Being a mid-thirties woman with a husband, a functioning uterus and a spare bedroom in my house means that I am routinely subjected to interrogation about when I’m going to have a baby.
For the better part of my adult life I’ve responded to that question with a well-rehearsed ‘Oh, we just haven’t gotten around to it yet’ whilst nervously twisting my wedding ring and steeling myself for the inevitable clock-is-ticking diatribe.
The truth, and what I struggle to say out loud, is that we don’t want kids. Never have.
I utter excuses about our absence of offspring not because of a wavering resolution about it, but because I simply do not have the energy to endure the condescending lectures, smug judgement and pitiful decries of ‘Aren’t you scared you’ll regret it?’ or ‘You’ll never know what REAL love is!’
For the record, it’s not a decision that we arrived at lightly. It takes a colossal amount of courage, personal insight and maturity to excavate and examine yourself as a person, to confront your capabilities and limitations, and to honour your instinct in making a choice like this.
You wouldn’t pester us about our breeding status if we revealed that we’d experienced a succession of miscarriages or that one or both of us were infertile.
In fact, you’d probably apologise for asking such an intrusive question and then promptly drop the subject. There’d be no glaring down your nose and moaning “Having children really is the most fulfilling thing you’ll do in your lives.”
For us, it has been a joint decision. However, as the female counterpart in the judgement about procreation, rather than be accepted or even respected for embarking on a journey of deep contemplation and self-exploration, I am instead demonised and swiftly branded as cold and vacuous for not wanting to experience motherhood. In the eyes of many, I’m an anomalous abomination of womankind. If it were the year 1692 I’d probably be burned at the stake in the middle of a colonial village.
I’m not sure why it bothers people so much that I have no desire to have a small human pass through my vagina and subsequently be responsible for their physical, emotional, financial, spiritual and psychological wellbeing for decades to come, while simultaneously keeping my own life under effective management and being a decent wife, friend, daughter, employee and member of society.
Surely, I am the only one qualified to make a ruling about my capability to fulfil, thrive or even survive a role with such a hefty job description?
It would seem I am well supported by the sisterhood when it comes to making choices about my body in regard to terminating or proceeding with a pregnancy once a foetus is in question, but it’s a whole other head shaking, brow furrowing matter when it comes to rallying support for being child-free by choice.
To be clear, my husband and I don’t dislike kids and we are not incompetent babysitters. If you leave us alone with your toddlers, we’re not going to barricade them in a room full of sharp knives and lighters and take bets on how long it takes for one to give the other a life-threatening injury.
Quite the opposite. We’ll blow raspberries on their fat bellies and revel in their tiny rumbles of laughter, pick playdough out of our rug and watch Frozen for the 633rd time with almost zero resentment. We are not immune to the heart flutter and stomach heave that can only be invoked by chubby legs and tiny noses or experiencing vicarious joy by way of a child discovering the simple wonders of the world around them.
We find empowerment, sanctuary, contentedness, even relief in our decision to not have children of our own. Instead, we are liberated to offer the best of ourselves to the children around us when we are able, when we feel patient, attentive and energised to nurture, play and teach. We can assume the role of care-giver and magic-maker when it suits us, or when our friends and family need us as respite resources.
This is where we find the meaning, purpose, satisfaction and joy that some would accuse us of missing out on.
I can assure you that we do know what real love is. We are fulfilled. We are comfortable with our decision. If our spare bedroom and the halting of our genetic lineage makes you uncomfortable, then you’ve got some self-analysis of your own to embark upon.
Most significantly, as a woman, I am not a monster with de-commissioned ovaries and an undersized heart that you may first assume me to be if I happen to find the courage to tell you “We’ve decided that we don’t want children.”
I am a thoughtful, informed, insightful, astute, sensible, warm and giving person who made a very responsible decision to turn down the most demanding job in the world, and to not have banana mashed all through the backseat of my car.
And that’s OK.
Isn’t it?
Melissa is a program developer and coordinator in an early intervention mental health service for adolescents, and a small business owner. She lives with her music producer husband of over 15 years and their 14-year-old feline, Catbastard. She has written programs and publications for state and federal government health services and as an antidote to the gravity of her day job, pens satirical prose in reflection of her own life experiences.
Top Comments
I am a mother of two gorgeous children 13 and 11. I’ve also been a Nanny and a speech pathologist so I’ve been part of the lives of many families with children. All my friends have kids. I often think many people should seriously consider their choice to have children and wonder why some did as they don’t take on the responsibility and neglect, complain and resent their kids. I completely respect your choice and admire your insight into the complexity of the job description and clarity about whatvis right right for you. The worlds population is already out of control. You are content. No one has the right to make you wrong for making a choice that is so considered. Some people may be genuinely curious but never take on comments from people making you wrong. You do not need to justify your choice to anyone.
I don't care what you decide to do with your body, to be clear.. but I do think it was a foolish decision to give answers like 'we just haven't got around to it yet' if you had never had any intention to have kids. It carries the implication kids are part of your future and gives reason to ask again later.
I'm sure it is frustrating meeting many people's confusion about your life choice. I chose to stay home with my kids and always meet comments about how I feel about having lost my career or prioritising my husband. Whatever choice we makd it is alien to many other people. I have always concluded the best way to help people get used to people having a given opinion is to own it and assert it clearly. "My husband and I have never had the desire for kids so we're not likely to have any." If someone wants to ask you if you are worried about missing out, just say "no." When people deliberately avoid talking about these choices, you miss the opportunity to normalize them. If a Christian questions me if I am worried about hell, sure it's slightly annoying, I say no. If they carry on, I am good at saying "No I've told you I am not interested in or worried about that and I wont be discussing it further." Show people what is and isn't acceptable. That's how society can change.
What?? People suggest you're going to hell if you don't breed? Where in the bible does it say that? And what kind of cretin would dream of saving such a thing to your face??? How awful.
I agree that people need to be set straight in these conversations, but I do also sympathise with the author - it's exhausting to educate people with fixed, judgemental attitudes. But yeah, if you do set out to tell them the utter truth of the matter, don't sugar-coat it or dance around the issue. Not having children is just another form of normal. You don't need to provide them with reassurance about how you nurture others in other facets or roles in your life. You don't have to remind them that you love all children and think they are adorable. You don't have to allude to your fur babies like they are some sort of surrogate outlet of love for your cold, childless heart. "No, we don't want kids, ever" is enough of an explanation. You don't need an excuse, and don't you ever apologise!
The thing is that when you own it during your childbearing years, people knowingly saying ‘oh you’ll change your mind’ or ‘you’ll regret that later’. It can be infuriatingly tedious to listen to so I can understand the author wanting to avoid that.
Yes! I can’t stand it when people think my cats are substitutes for children. Having cats is a VERY different experience to having children and that’s why I have them. I particularly love their independence and ability to fend for themselves if required.
Yes, I understand wanting to avoid it, too, but she set herself up for more questions later, and seriously, all you have to say is "maybe" and change the subject. If you can't say your own choices with conviction, then ofcourse people will never believe you could be certain.