If you’re a woman, the idea of settling down and having kids has been drilled into you. When I was younger, I’d play with dolls and pretend to have a baby of my own. I’d pick out future baby names and matching middle names that I told myself would be non-negotiable in the future. Then something happened. I hit puberty and started working with kids. That’s the moment that this idea struck me.
I liked handing them back at the end of the day.Â
As awful as that sounds, I didn’t like the idea of having to take them home at the end of the day to get them ready for bed or make them dinner. I didn’t want to change diapers, pay for college, puberty fights, or even birth itself. I don’t want to nurse my cooter who’s covered with stitches while having to take care of a baby, and it wasn’t just this.Â
If I’m being honest, I didn’t want the good parts either like Christmas or Halloween because it just seemed stressful. Finding the perfect costume or gift, and the amount of money that would go into it. It was only then when I thought of it as a whole I realized, maybe I don’t want to be a mom.
I realize being a mom is a full-time job, and can be rewarding, but that’s not a path I wanted.
I know these reasons seem superficial but I have others that have popped up over the years like not wanting to pass on my long long long list of mental disorders and allergies and my anger issues when I am overwhelmed. In reality, none of those reasons matter because if I don’t want to have kids, I shouldn’t have to explain why!
Now there is a lot of privilege in this statement, like my access to birth control and having my partner who has similar views on not wanting to have kids. I am at a point in time where I have the resources to not be a parent, but there is still that one barrier. Society. The number of times I have been asked or told that I will change my mind when I grow up, but as I’ve grown up it only solidified my decision. There’s this idea that I hate kids now, but will grow out of it.
I don’t hate kids. I’m not opposed to being around them. While working with kids ranging from 3 months to twelve years old, there have been a bunch who I enjoyed sitting and coloring with or playing gaga ball during camp. When they hand me a piece of artwork they made for me, I hang it up in my dorm. It’s not the child’s fault. It’s mine. It’s my decision.Â
Why is it that my job must be to produce a kid? Why do I have to give up my wants to give my parents grandkids or make my friends an aunt? Why do so many people care? I’ve spent so long listing why I don’t want kids and defending myself because this is the long list of reasons that I’ve had to give for years. That somehow my decision is the wrong one.Â
Yes, I could break the cycle. Yes, I could rise above my issues to be a good parent to little Timmy. But I don’t want to.Â
I’ll be a great aunt. When my friends have kids, I will spend an entire paycheck getting them clothes and toys. I’ll be their number-one fan. But in the future, I don’t want to come home to kids. I want to come home to my pets and my partner. We’ll live a quiet life child-free. That’s okay. So don’t shame me for not wanting the future you want, because frankly, my life will make me happy. That’s all that matters.