{Honest Women} We are not having children

I chose the Otherhood

Otherhood is a term coined by Melanie Notkin in her book by the same title, which explores the choice women today are making to not have children. I have made my choice.

I’m going to make a very controversial confession: I can’t stand children. Yes, I am aware I was one once. Yes, I know how horrible it is for me to dislike children, but I do. To say I dislike them is by no means saying I am cruel to them, or rude, or hateful. The irony of this statement is that I am wonderful with children, they love me, but every moment is spent with gritted teeth (mentally, because I’m usually all smiles and tickles with kids). Please understand that before I say anything about kids, these are MY feelings, perceptions, and opinions. They by no means apply to you who has and loves children; nor do they apply to those women out there who dearly want children but can’t. If I could donate every single one of my eggs I would, but I’m currently too fat and my mental illness prevents it. Please do not feel that my opinions are targeting your lifestyle. I applaud your ability to be a mother because one of the reasons I’ve chosen to not have children is because I could never be a mother. I would be an awful mother, and this is one of the numerous reasons for my decision. Please do not shout at me for my dislike of children, I treat them with the same respect I would treat an adult (more usually because kids are nicer), and I treat them kindly. Please do not tell me that I am young, and I will change my mind. I might, but it won’t be because you told me I will, it will be of my volition. I turn 28 in a few weeks time, and while that may seem young, it’s old enough to know what I want to do with my body and my life.

One of the reasons, and probably the main reason I don’t want children is something I’ve already mentioned: I can’t stand children. I am a selfish person, maybe not outright, but my time is valuable. I realized a long time ago how little time I have left in my day. During my day, I sit in traffic for 2 hours, work a 9 hour day, feed my partner and dogs (more on them later), wash laundry and try to maintain order. That usually leaves me with about 3 hours before bedtime, and those few hours are precious to me. Most of my spare time is taken before I’ve gone to the gym, shopped for groceries, or had 5 minutes to myself.  Weekends are my safe, and happy place. I am an absolute introvert, so my weekends are spent recharging with my series, my books, and my pups. Children would ruin that. I would have no time,  specifically no down time. I need time to myself, to recharge and to prepare myself for the coming day/week.

Another reason I don’t want children is babies. Babies terrify the living daylights out of me. They have no means of communication, they’re fragile, and they just lie in a cot undergoing cellular reproduction. I’m sure that they are the universe’s way of punishing us for having premarital sex (for those of us who did, for those of us who didn’t, that screaming bundle of cells is punishing you for some other sin). Toddlers are fun. I don’t dislike toddlers. Toddlers are just beginning to develop little personalities, and senses of humour and this is when they are the most fun. You can speak to toddlers, and tickle them, and play with them very differently from babies. I always fear dropping a baby, or that it will puke on me (please don’t let it puke on me), or wail from fear and never stop ever again. I’m scared of kids, okay?

I decided a long time ago I didn’t want kids. My previous relationship was with an older man, and when I was 19, he was already 26 and quite ready for kids. When I hit 26, I thought he was out of his mind, but we’d already parted by then. Oddly, he is now with a woman a decade his junior who is no more ready to bear children than a tadpole is to win the Olympic 400m hurdles. I suffer from depression, it comes in waves, in leaps and sometimes it quiets for a decade. I’ve only had two severe, suicidal bouts of depression in my 28 years of life, but they were bad enough to land me in a hospital (where I met my fiance). Genetically speaking I am not a good candidate for motherhood. My fiance suffers the same thing, plus. He is not a good candidate for fatherhood. It would be irresponsible of us to bear children. Doctors argue percentages, mothers will tell you that you’ll be okay, but I don’t buy it. I will not doom a child to taking pills for the rest of its life. I will not doom a child to the deep, black, dark ditch that is depression, or the pain of anxiety, or the exhaustion of OCD. I refuse. If that makes me a bad person, so be it.

That all being said, I have found I do have a motherly instinct but I have been lucky enough to be able to exert it on my dogs. My dogs are my babies. My day and my life revolve around these two little bodies who rely on me for their daily needs. My youngest, in particular, is a baby. He whines, throws tantrums, and needs far more attention than his older brother. They fill a place in my heart that I didn’t know I had, and they complete my life.

I might chance my mind, I’m not saying that I won’t. However, I’ve decided, and my partner agrees, that one day if we realise that my eggs have dried up, and we feel we’ve missed the boat, we’ll adopt. Even if it’s before my time of bearing children is over, we’ll still adopt. I am not one for pregnancy, it sounds like nine months of hell, and there are so many children on this planet who don’t have homes, why should I bring another into this world? The world is a cruel place; children need all the love they can get, orphans even more so.

Thank you for indulging me, and taking the time to hear me out. I thank you in advance for your respect of my choice of lifestyle, as I have tried my dearest to respect yours.