LIFE LESSONS|PSYCHOLOGY

Countless People Said I Should Have Children, Then This Happened

I had never doubted the fact that I would have children, but then things began to change

My childhood was hard and seemed to take forever to get through. I was eager to become an adult and have full control over my life. I watched too many of my family members and friends of family members struggle terribly.

My grandmother had eight children 20 years apart. My mom was the third. I have 20 first cousins. Someone is always having a baby and oftentimes, they are under the age of 25.

I have been caring for babies and children of all ages since I was 11 years old.

When I was around 13 years old, I had the names of my twin girls and one boy picked out.

Nicole and Victoria, Nicky and Vicky for short, for the twins. Christopher for the boy. I’m sure I had their middle names picked out, but I don’t recall them.

My first pregnancy scare was when I was almost 18 years old. I had sex with my first love “for the last time” (it really was the last time that time). The condom broke.

I was scared shitless!

I knew my life would change forever if I’d become pregnant. I didn’t want to have a baby at all then, but I would have kept it. I am 100% pro-choice. I didn’t want to get an abortion though.

Time stood still…only one other time in my life did something comparable happen. My heart pounds faster just thinking about it.

By the time I was 22 years old, I decided that I wanted to be a rockstar and spiritual guru— one that was not attached to worldly things, like children.

Over the course of one year, between the ages of 22 and 23, my list of reasons for not wanting to bear children any longer was long:

• Statistics showed (in 1999) that the average cost of raising a child from birth to 18 years for poor people started at $180,000. It’s even more now.
• You cannot predict the personalities of your children. They can have awful predispositions.
• Daycare is very expensive.
• Overpopulation is a serious problem. What kind of world would I be raising my child in (and this was before the Internet, school shootings, etc)?
• I did not want anyone in my family babysitting my children for me.
• My menstrual cycle was hard enough to deal with. I knew that pregnancy would be a hell of a physical, emotional, and mental journey.
• Some women have a terrible time during pregnancy with all kinds of weird and/or painful things happening (I’ve had many close friends, and strangers, who have been very honest with me).
• The idea of milk coming out of my breasts on a regular basis, as does a baby with teeth sucking on my boobs, does not appeal to me at all…not one teeny tiny bit. However, I would have opted to breastfeed had I given birth and could produce milk.
• Did I mention how expensive I am to raise?
• Schools…the American school system leaves quite a lot to be desired.
• I love to travel which I had not done much of until I was in my early thirties.
• The guys that I chose to date were generally not ones I could see as good father material. Since I did not want to start a family any time soon, if ever, I pushed away guys who were looking for women who wanted that someday.

In my twenties, I had a serious amount of “soul searching” to do. I was adamant about figuring out how life worked. The meaning of it all and my place in it.

Everything else came after.

I realized that I’m an artist. My various artistic creations became my babies and satisfied me more than I ever imagined.

By my thirties, I had a better grasp on myself and life. I was open to dating men who either had children or possibly wanted to adopt. I knew that I didn’t want to be pregnant, but had more interest and patience to be some kind of mother.

However, the vast majority of the men that I met and dated in my thirties were far from any whom I would ever consider raising a child.

Then I turned 40 and met my boyfriend who is wonderful. I think he’d make a fantastic father, but I’m not willing to do any fertility treatment and can’t really see us adopting since I don’t want to be raising a teenager in my sixties.

If he wants children, it will most likely mark the end of our relationship. I would not begrudge him one bit. I know that I’ve made the right choice for me and my life. He needs to do the same for his. So far he’s content, as am I.

I am 46 years old, travel extensively, write regularly and enjoy my life fully while working at a German daycare.

The kids I help care for are between three and six years old. I love contributing to their well-being and growth. My official job is to speak English to them to help them become multilingual, but what I teach them is much deeper.

I believe in the saying, “It takes a village,” when it comes to raising children. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve seen adults do. It’s also one of the most rewarding.

Just because I chose not to biologically have children nor adopt does not mean that I don’t love children.

We were all children once.

Part of me is still a child which makes me want to protect, cherish and nourish children as a whole even more.

Countless people, especially the women in my family, told me that I should have at least one child. I told them firmly that I did not think I would ever have any. I could tell that for some, the idea of something, especially a baby or person, being fully “theirs” is what appealed most to me.

It appealed to me when I was a child.

At times I have wondered if I would ever change my mind.

So far, I have never once regretted my decision not to have children. In fact, most days, I thank my lucky stars that I do not.

Overpopulation is real and is a real problem.

There are more than enough people alive on this earth now for me to give my time, money, and energy to on a regular basis, starting with my mother.