Women are groomed from a young age to become mothers. When we’re little, we’re given baby dolls to take care of. We play house and prepare meals with our Fisher-Price kitchen sets and Easy Bake Ovens. We’re taught to be gentle and nurturing. We become babysitters when we’re teenagers to earn money. When we get older, we dream of finding Mr. Right, getting married, and building families of our own. We play ridiculous games at baby showers, “ooohing” and “ahhhhing” over high-tech breast pumps and strollers with fancy storage compartments. When we’re walking through the baby section at stores, we cry out with joy over tiny pajama sets and baby sneakers.
We are socialized to go gaga over babies.
This works out just swell for most women, who do go on to get married and have babies. But what about those of us who seem to be missing the mom gene? Who never experience the proverbial tick of the biological clock? Who choose to remain childless. Are we missing out? Does this make us selfish or weird? Are we doing the universe a disservice by not passing on our stellar genes?
Is something wrong with us?
These are questions I spent my mid to late twenties grappling with. At a time when most of my friends had settled down and were blowing up Facebook with pictures of their kids doing all sorts of unbelievably adorable things, I began to feel a little inadequate, and that alarmed me. There was a brief period of time during college when I thought it might be cool to be a mom someday — but that phase was over as quickly as it had begun.
I was once filling out a profile for an online dating service and had to indicate my position on children. The question was “Want Kids?” and the answers choices were: Definitely, Someday, Not Sure, or Probably Not. I found it interesting that “Definitely,” such a strong affirmation existed, but there was no absolute for people who didn’t want kids. Where was the “No” or “Definitely Not”? Or how about an “Other” box, where I could type in “Hell No”? The closest I could get was the non-committal “Probably Not.”
Let me be clear: Children are a blessing. I am absolutely positive that they bring an element of joy and an experience of selflessness to life that nothing else can come close to. I think little kids are darling. I love them. I dig kids that are a bit older, too. I absolutely adore crabby adolescents and teens. I just don’t want to own one.
There’s a weird thing that happens to me whenever I hear a baby screaming, see a child throwing a temper tantrum, or get the whiff of a poopy diaper. I get these sharp little pains in my pelvis. A little stinging sensation, which I’m quite sure is the feeling of my eggs self-destructing. It’s my body revolting against the concept of reproduction. I can envision my little eggs marching around inside my ovaries with tiny cardboard signs of protest.
Hell no, we won’t go!
During ovulation, there’s a massive fight among them over who will slide down my Fallopian tube and risk violation.
You go!
No way! I’m not going down there!
One of us has to go!
I imagine them drawing straws or playing paper-rock-scissors to decide who will journey off into the darkness. The day of, the doomed eats their final meal, puts on their best clothes, and bids farewell to their fellow ovum before disappearing into the abyss. The other eggs remember the lost, fondly recalling their genetic traits. Sally had the most beautiful alleles.
So you get it. I don’t want kids.
But defying such a deeply-rooted social norm can be tough. And if you want a partner, finding someone who shares your desire can certainly present a challenge. Most people want to have kids at some point. So what’s a girl to do?
I say, dig in. The decision to have children is the most important, life-changing choice you can make. Unless you are absolutely sure that you want babies and are positive that you’re emotionally, mentally, physically and financially up for the challenge, you must remain steadfast in your “no-babies-for-me” mantra. If you’ve decided that you don’t want to have kids, I promise, it’s still possible to live a fulfilling, exciting, awesome life. So what if other people think your strange for not having children? They aren’t you.
If you’re dating, I think it’s important to be up front and open about this decision before things get serious. Not wanting children should be an essential deal breaker. Yes, it may be more difficult to find a partner because this decision will rule out a large part of the dating pool, but it’s a hell of a lot easier than ending a relationship years down the road because you don’t see eye to eye on such a fundamental issue. And honestly, there are men out there who don’t have baby fever. Really.
For me, learning to accept my decision was incredibly freeing. Instead of looking at not wanting kids as some sort of external choice, I embraced it as an inherent component of who I am. Because I love and accept myself, I had to love and accept that decision, as well.
There is no mold that a woman should have to fit in. We’re all on our own unique journeys. For some, that includes having a family — for others, it doesn’t. Either way, it’s okay.
