Re: Why I don't want to have kids
I've never had any motherly feelings toward anyone or anything. I know, that sounds a little wicked. That doesn't mean I am not caring though. I say this only because some who are childfree, a label I sometimes struggle to assign myself given the nature of some in the community, have no issue calling themselves "dog moms" or "cat dads." Of course, people can define themselves however they want. Still, I think labels like those dilute the meaning behind the responsibility and work that parenthood demands. Caring for an animal is no doubt a lot of work, though parenting a child is something else entirely in my opinion. In any case, I've never felt like a mother to any animal but rather a companion, even though that's not quite right either.
I'm writing this because I have long felt like I needed to make a post about it, and I found a lot of commonalities (and some differences) between VonGiorno and me.
Unlike some childfree people, I don't hate children. Okay, I get a little upset when kids run around screaming in public and clearly haven't been parented well. I think more childfree spaces should exist. I don't really care to hold anyone's baby. But children are little people who are sometimes misunderstood or sometimes even disserviced by their parents when it appears to be vice-versa. In fact, one of my favorite experiences in elementary school was when I had the privilege of being a "safety" for the kindergarteners. In this role I was responsible for taking three of the children to their respective buses at the end of the day so that they could make it home safely. With the other "safeties" we supervised them at lunch and on other occasions as well. I still vividly remember the few children I helped and wonder what they're up to over 15 years later. I'll never know.
I never daydreamed about becoming a mother. As a child, I liked playing with my toy animals—not dolls or anything like this—and eventually sports. Sometimes I would hear "when you have children . . . " from my mother or grandma, and it just went into one ear and out of the other. It was assumed I would have kids, but I didn't push back against that idea yet because adulthood seemed so far away. I actually don't even feel like an adult as I write this, instead a perpetual child who will never grow up (for better or for worse). I'm still mistaken for a teenager sometimes.
I guess I should feel grateful that eventual parenthood wasn't enforced on me as much as it has on others. Though my mother also had these expectations in her head for me. Sometimes they were rules, sometimes they seemed like desires she had if she could go back and redo her life. She overlooked that I was studying at a good university and setting the foundations for my career; she only insisted that I marry a (white) doctor. Probably have two kids, ultimately stay at home to care for them. End of story. Thankfully, we are no longer in touch.
Then it further dawned on me one day: I never want to become pregnant. Ever. The idea of my body giving birth to a human being—if that is even possible—terrifies me, not to mention all the bodily changes that come with doing so. I mean the permanent ones post-pregnancy. All this scares me so much that I decided to make my decision permanent over three years ago, at the ripe age of 25, to have my fallopian tubes removed.
Even though the regret following sterilization is higher among women who already have children, many people, including those who perform such procedures, question the motives of childfree women. They're bound to change their minds someday, aren't they? It just takes the right man to want to raise his children. Isn't that how it works?
The truth is that I've felt nothing but relief since that surgery. I have zero regrets and don't see that changing anytime soon.
But people might still think: Well, you could adopt, right?
Now I have made it to what may be the true reason why I am not going to have children. Even if all the other reasons to not have children—the dying planet, the unsustainable costs of living, geopolitical instability, the unwillingness of many men to take on a fair share of household management and parenthood, and whatever else—hypothetically disappeared, I would still refuse.
Why? Every day I feel like I am reparenting myself. I was abandoned, given up to an orphanage on the day I was born. I lost my family and my country. Many adoptees, separated by their birth families by distance, death, rejection, or a mix of some of these factors, dream of having a child to be able to see themselves in another person. It's sort of selfish though, or at least it would be for me. I'd rather focus on building a relationship with my biological family however I can.
More importantly, however, this being-given-awayness is something I will never fully shake, worsened by my inability to fit into what I now realize was a narcissistic adoptive family who only made me feel even more alien and disposable. I'm still recovering from this and just want peace. I simply cannot come home to a child who needs (and deserves) my undivided attention when I am still very much a child. I also don't support adoption even though it is often a necessity, but that is a post for another day.
Don't get me wrong, I respect and appreciate those who aspire to become parents and do so responsibly. And helping young people is still very important to me. I've delighted in mentoring students. I want to support the next generations as much as I can beyond abstaining from bringing another child into a world that is burning down, something that I would consider selfish more than the decision to be childfree. If anyone close to me has a child, I'd be happy to help them in whatever capacity I can. It takes a village, after all.
Sadly, given political events in the US and in other countries, I'm afraid that being a childfree woman will become even more of a statement, maybe one that should not be advertised. Writing this post was nice but still felt a tiny bit taboo. I appreciate VonGiorno speaking up and inspiring me to finally write about it though.