Children May Be The Future, But They’re Not Mine
Wanting, and having, children is surely a great thing. As the title states, kids are, after all, the future, and are absolutely necessary to the continuation of the human race. The vast majority of parents will tell you that there’s no better job than parenting, and don’t get me wrong, the idea of bringing more life into the world does sound pretty rock ’n’ roll. And as hard and laborious a task as parenting seems to be, it’s one that’s always described as being worth the blood, sweat and tears in the end.
But I’m not convinced.
All of those things I mentioned above are still true — children certainly are the future, and it’s nice when people want kids. And I’m sure that the job is a rewarding one, for those people. I’m sure that there is no better feeling than raising a child and experiencing all the milestones that come with it, like hearing them say their first word, or seeing them skip off to their first day of school, for those people. I’m sure that being a parent can indeed be pretty rock ’n’ roll, but that’s never been my kind of music.
I think we can all agree that our differences are what make the world go round. No two people are the same and we’re grateful for that. What kind of world would it be if everyone’s favourite meal was pizza, or if everyone wore the same thing? Worse still, what kind of world would it be if we all shared the same goals? We can’t all be top of the ladder at the same company, or all win the lottery, and by the same token, we can’t all have the picturesque life of domestic bliss complete with marriage and 2.4 children. We can’t all want that. What a boring world it would be if we were all destined for the same finish line.
You might wonder why we can’t all want that. After all, I described that scenario above as picturesque and blissful, and who wouldn’t want that? Why shouldn’t we all get a slice of the good life? Isn’t having children the ultimate goal? Again, for some, it certainly is. And it seems to me that these questions aren’t just reserved for the more conservative amongst us. More people than you’d think — our parents, our friends, our siblings — ask these questions in all sincerity and are nonplussed at answers that hint towards not wanting children. Clearly there’s a misunderstanding between parents of the world, and those who are childfree. So, let’s look into this issue a little deeper.
A few years ago, I thought I did want children. I wanted that fulfilled, successful life where all the boxes had been ticked, and God knows everyone wanted it for me. I’d see my brother living his own life of domestic bliss and feel slightly awed. The security and stability of such an existence seemed appealing, not least because I had been searching for a sense of belonging since I’d finished my undergrad in 2017. I thought that kind of life would finally provide me with that. I would imagine future scenes — me with a new-born sleeping on my chest, playing with a toddler in the back garden on summer days, imparting all the wisdom I could spare to a teenager.
But therein lies the problem. It’s easy to imagine all the nice parts of parenthood. It’s easy to imagine parenthood full stop. Don’t get me wrong, I’d consider that there’d be difficult times, and I’d fret continuously about how good of a parent I’d actually turn out to be. But it wasn’t children I wanted. Not really. I wanted that sense of belonging, of home, and it made sense that I’d get that from settling down, marrying, and putting down roots. I wanted the scenic vision of a family, the kind you see on the front of Christmas biscuit tins. I didn’t want the messy, stressful, monotonous reality, and therefore, I didn’t ever want children.
All of that is to say that I have at least considered the possibility of children. It wasn’t something I simply dismissed out of hand, although to be clear, some people know from the start that they don’t want kids without even pausing to think about it, and that’s valid too. Considering the possibility isn’t a prerequisite for making a firm decision on not wanting kids. There are no criteria to be met, no boxes to tick when deciding you don’t want to be a parent. Sometimes people know, and sometimes they don’t, and sometimes, it’ll take a lifetime to figure that kind of question out.
And ultimately, being sure of that kind of decision is always going to be better than making it on a whim. Having children isn’t like taking on a new houseplant, or deciding to embark on a new hobby. It’s not nearly as temporary, unrestricting or reversible as either of those things. Even a houseplant is beyond my capabilities — I can’t seem to keep one alive no matter what I do. Partly, of course, that comes down to irresponsibility and a purposeful decision to prioritise what I want to do over learning to properly care for the plant. The same can be said of children.
A lot of people say they’d be too selfish to have kids. I used to say the same thing. I considered it an inherently selfish thing to not want to sacrifice my life for another person, that if I did have kids, they’d suffer for my selfishness. But it isn’t a selfish thing to want to keep your life for you, and you only. Would it be selfish to continue to think that way after having children? Yes, to an extent. After all, it’s an obvious fact that kids will suck up most, if not all, of your time and energy. Even if you don’t want to give either of those things up, being a parent, by definition, forces you to. You lose that freedom of choice.
The things that you took for granted before, like sleeping in late on your days off or going out for a quick pint after work, won’t be available choices to you anymore. And some people clearly don’t mind losing that freedom in return for what they consider a worthy payoff. But I’m a simple person. I enjoy sleeping in late, and grabbing a drink after work. I enjoy living my life exactly as I want to live it, with minimal responsibilities and expectations. In fact, there’s no better way to live life in my eyes. Responsibilities and expectations certainly aren’t bad things, and I welcome them in small doses. But the unbridled freedom of a life largely unbeholden to them is bliss.
I’m sure that isn’t something you need me to convince you of. Parents all over the world fantasise about a week, a weekend, even a single day, of freedom, where nothing is asked of them by anybody. Maybe it’d get old fast for some people. Maybe they’d miss being needed. But it remains a universal, if intermittent, desire for many people, and who can blame them? Even the most passionate of parents need that time away from the stresses of life.
And parents who are passionate about being parents, and who genuinely love that role, are important. Too many people decide to have kids for all the wrong reasons — not because they actually want them, but because it might fix the relationship (it won’t), or because it seems to be the next logical step in their lives, so why not? That isn’t to say these people are bad parents, because I’m sure most of them do as good a job as they reasonably can. But the fact remains that those reasons aren’t particularly watertight, and can have a bigger negative impact than you’d think. Your resentment towards your children will not go unnoticed by them.
That was the single greatest fear I had when considering whether or not I wanted children. I worried about everything, admittedly, including how financially stable I could realistically be as a parent without forcing myself into a job I hated. But the scariest concern of all was how emotionally stable I could realistically be as a parent. My philosophy was, and still is, that anyone should strive to be the best versions of themselves before having children. That could mean a lot of things — going to therapy even if you think you don’t need it, looking inward, practicing self-reflection and ultimately working on your flaws and insecurities. On paper it seems like a solid plan, and I’m sure most people would agree with the general concept.
The problem is that, realistically, nobody is perfect, and ‘the best version of yourself’ is a loose phrase with a loose definition. Who knows when anybody has reached that point? Really, I don’t think it actually can be reached. After all, progress is a journey without end. We can’t strive for progress without understanding that there is no finish line. It isn’t like filling a glass to the top with water. There is no stopping point because we can always be better, more well-adjusted, more patient, more educated.
While progress can be easy to make if we’re open to it, it’s something I never stopped worrying about. I felt I had a lot of personal issues to work on before having kids would be viable, and that was terrifying because there was a strong likelihood that some of those things weren’t fixable. We shouldn’t want to be fixable because we’re humans, not machines, but even so, I didn’t want to pass on those unfixable issues. I worried, all the time, about what I could be passing down to my kids in the future, not medically, but emotionally. I didn’t want my trauma, my anxieties, my faults, to rub off on them like so many black marks.
The pressure of it all was tremendous, and this was while I was only considering children. The reality of having them seemed almost too much to bear. The relief of deciding that I ultimately didn’t want children, knowing that the question would stop circling my brain like a vulture, was a great feeling. And if I hadn’t already figured it out, that intense relief alone would have been enough to tell me that no, children were not for me.
Making the decision not to become a parent isn’t made lightly, for me, nor for a million other people. The decision can be a particularly heavy one, with sore and delicate points that are best left alone. For some, it’s a much more painful topic thanks to past trauma or heartache related to pregnancy that I won’t go into here. Suffice to say that I’m grateful not to be part of that group, but that no matter who we’re talking to, we should tread lightly around the subject of children. At the very least, we shouldn’t continue to push this age-old idea that everyone should want children.
It is not a bad thing to not want kids, nor is it indicative of any moral failings or shortcomings. Children are not a ticket to happiness or success, and they are not the end goal for everyone. We need to stop looking at women who decide they don’t want children as any lesser than their mothering counterparts, and stop bringing up the mildly threatening idea of a biological clock. We need to stop telling each other ‘you’ll want them someday!’ My decision is not to be dismissed so easily. After all, it was far from an easy one to make.
