One weekend stands out in my head for the crystal clear lens through which it showed me how different we are from everyone else. It started with my high school reunion. At the first one you are an oddity one step
away from cat lady status if you aren't married but at reunion number two you
are a freak of nature if you don't have at least one or two kids at home.
I found myself saying we don't have kids, so we travel a lot. Repeatedly.
They wanted answers and I didn't want to go into it so that was the
easiest thing to say. "No kids?" a former classmate said in confusion. "Wow. Your life is a fairy
tale." And I guess in a way it sort
of is, when you consider how rare the childfree choice is.
The next day was a pool party and it isn't
a party in your thirties without at least one child present. One baby made an appearance at my high school reunion
and at the party all married couples present had kids except
us. The following day we attended our very first
pony party. Things like that happen when
all of your friends have kids. We were
the only childfree couple which I would totally expect for a pony party
considering the weight limit is 100 lbs, but at least we have the kind of friends where you can always expect adult beverages even when the guest of honor is four. It was a busy weekend, and I was very tired by the end of it. I came home and took a long hot uninterrupted
shower while my husband retreated to
his Xbox. I had no obligations that
needed immediate attention so I fell into an exhausted slumber while I imagined
our friends hustling home with kids in tow to the non stop marathon that has become
their life. I'm pretty sure there was no
nap or leisurely lounging about the couch in their future. Every single thing we did that weekend, even the nap was reminder that we are the only ones our age without kids. Not on the planet, although
it feels like that sometimes, but at least in our social circle and among those
around us.
No kids
in your thirties is a fairly unpaved and little trodden path it seems. In your twenties and early thirties, there are rumblings of three
kinds among childfree couples not actively trying to conceive.
A. We definitely want kids but aren't ready yet.
B. We aren't sure about kids. Maybe someday.
C. We aren't interested in kids and don't want
any.
We are
in category C, not interested don't want any group, but it was automatically assumed
that we would shift up to category B and then ultimately land on category A at
some point. I mean, everybody does
because everybody wants kids right? And
even if you don't, you do it anyway because the maternal instincts are so powerful. If they don't get you, then eventually you succumb to the pressure of the masses. It's not uncommon for women in their twenties
to still be in their so called "selfish" phase where they are not
willing to hand over their life to a child, but as you mature and it becomes
the norm among your peers it seems like the natural step. Even if you
were against it, you start to see it as something you want. If everyone else has abandoned their fears,
turned their body into an incubator/food source, totally upended their lives,
given up sleep, and freedom to move about the world then made it sound like the
best thing in the whole wide world it must be the thing to do. Preferably, before it gets too late because
after you have one, chances are you will spawn another even if you don't know
it yet because that's what people do.
You are
not alone in your twenties, but the thirties separate the ones who were serious
about not having kids from the ones who simply weren't ready. It's been well over a year since the last hold out
in our group had their first and they are already speaking about seconds while
the ones who took the plunge years before already have. Unlike
most people we haven't shifted up from category C. Do you know that some people have told me
that they didn't even know it was an option NOT to have kids? They get this dumbfounded look on their face
when I tell them. "Yes, it's true. You don't have to have kids. You can if you want to, but you don't have
to.” Mind blown. When we say we don't have kids we feel the
pink elephant sitting in the corner with large round questioning eyes. If we don't say it first, they inevitably ask
because people are very bold about sticking their noses into the reproductive
lives of others. Also, it's just that
much of an oddity to come across a stable married couple of our age who have
not gotten around to procreation that even if they had the restraint to refrain
from asking a newlywed couple in their twenties they are probably going to ask
us. "Why not?"
 |
| From our 2010 wedding |
We
happily jumped on the home ownership and wedding wagon but the baby train has yet to leave the station
and it's kind of a strange place to be right now. What started with weddings, turned into baby
showers, and shifted into birthday parties.
The number of kids at get togethers has multiplied and the dynamic of
outings has shifted to accommodate friends with kids. It used to be that my husband's friends could plan a bike ride or a group dinner with one week notice but the call for social outings are fewer and far between and group sports have fallen by
the wayside. The social reservoir available to parents juggling life
and children seems to have officially run dry. There is childcare to arrange, time and
energy already stretched to the breaking point, and a serious case of chronic
sleep deprivation going around. I'm happy to still have the freedom they
don't, but also can't help feeling left out even though it's something that I never
wanted in the first place.
I'm not
a woman who always wanted a child, but it is really bizarre how you
can know one thing and yet your body tells you something entirely different. The maternal instincts didn't start kicking until
my thirties after my nephew was born and after all of my peers had already
started doing it. There was a tug of war happening between what I know to be
true and instincts beyond my control. Maternal
instincts and the babies of Instagram with their tiny moccasins and gummy grins
are an inescapable duo. Cunning. Convincing.
Impossible to ignore. My
body ached with the want of it even though it is something I didn't want. I don't want the physical, emotional and
financial strain that goes along with bringing another person into this world
and yet maternal instincts threatened to convince me of otherwise. My mind is objective and calculated but my
heart was driven by emotions beyond my control. I wavered slightly, he did not. The important thing is that we have always
been on the same page regarding this matter, but it should be noted that had he
not been so steadfast in his position things could have turned out differently.
If I see
one more bump date, have another baby poop conversation or hear one more person
say "it's so worth it," I think I will scream. Hold on a moment while I stifle that scream
with my hands. Don't worry, it's not
you, it's me and it's the same phenomenon that occurs anytime you buck the
trend. I imagine that people who don't
believe in home ownership or marriage understand. Everyone else is on board but
you haven't quite bought into the notion that it could make a wonderful
difference in your life. When they say how
awesome it is you can't relate and grow tired of feeling the need to defend
your choices. The entire world is talking about it, dreaming about it, hoping
for it, doing it and you are not. Having
it in your face day in day out starts to feel like a tiresome barrage you can't escape.
I may be
tired of hearing it, but I believe you when you say it's worth it. Once you have a person in front of you that
you created it's pretty crappy to say oops we changed our mind it's not working
out and we don't like you very much. There is no going back when it comes to parenthood. Even parents who feel that way are hard
pressed to verbalize such thoughts because this is a helpless little person
that you have agreed to take care of for a very long time. They may drive you crazy with their ability
to do nothing but poop, eat, cry, yet control everything and spend all
the money, but they need you and you love them fiercely if for no other reason
than because they are yours. As ambivalent as I am I'm quite sure I'd feel the same. The difference is that I'm not willing to
accept the end of life as I know it and the ensuing trials and tribulations in
exchange for being the one saying those words. I'm not
a monster. I am not immune to those
adorable baby leg rolls, round tummies and tiny dimpled hands. Babies are indeed precious. I adore my nephew. He is the sweetest thing ever. His hugs and sweet smiles melt my heart. I admit, I'm torn between wanting to send him
home with mom and wanting him for myself but they don't stay little forever and
behind every adorable baby is a mountain of struggles that I don't want to
have.
The DINK
life suits us well. Dual income no kids,
for those who don't know. I really enjoy
the time that we have to ourselves, the vacations we get to take and a life I
don't have to try to split between work, finances, self, spouse and child which
seems to be an impossible tug of war that nobody wins. It's startlingly sad how
little time working parents get to spend with their children and I barely have
enough time and energy for myself let alone a kid who wakes up at the crack of
dawn and needs to be entertained all day long.
We get to come and go as we please and our life is our own. Pregnancy and childbirth sound awful. I'm
glad I'll never have to do it. And then there is the money. Money doesn't buy happiness but you are lying
to yourself if you say it can't help.
People with less income have multiple children and I don't believe I can
afford one. They say you never believe
you have enough and that you figure it out but I am the stubborn sort. I don't want to just figure it out. If I can't do it the way I want to then I don't want to do it all.
I
realize that there are things we might miss out on. I say might because nothing is a given when
you have a child. It is 100% fueled by hope, and just doing your best. I won't ever know what
our child might have looked like, what they would have done with their life or
what joys they might have brought to ours.
I won't ever know what it's like for someone to call me mom or
experience that parent child bond. We
are a family of two. We won't have
anyone to take care of us when we are old, because you know, having children
definitely guarantees that.
The
childfree choice can be a lonely path.
The gap widens between yourself and everyone else. Children present their own set of challenges to relationships but so
does not having them. Our first few years together were a whirlwind with the house hunting, the wedding and everything that goes into early stages of building a life together. Then it all stopped, and it hit me that this is it. It is just us
and this is how it will be for the foreseeable future. Without bath time, story
time and car pools there are no distractions and no kids to shake things
up. Our relationship is what we make it
just the two of us, for better or for worse now and ten years from now. We have to be okay with that. Part of
me wishes I wanted kids just so I can be like everyone else, but I can't do it
because everybody else is doing it. I
can't do it because babies are so cute and I certainly can't do it out of fear
of future regret that may or may not ever occur. Some call it selfish. Some call it lazy. Others just call it weird. I call it making a rational, informed, practical
decision that is right for us. We
decided the cons outweighed the pros. We decided we are
enough for each other.
We don't want
kids, so we aren't having any.
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