Hi everyone!
Anu asked me if I would consider writing on this blog about
my own experience as a childless
person. I’m no expert, but I hope that my story might be helpful
to some of you who might be thinking
about the possibility of a childless future. While I call myself
“childless by choice”, I should be honest
and tell you that I am childless by circumstance/ divine
protection and thankful, after-the-fact, that
things worked out this way.
I grew up in a middle class home in the US, primarily raised by a
single mother who had never
completed her college degree. I was raised a Catholic and attended
Catholic schools but have never
really had an affinity for organized religion. My parents had a
bitter divorce, and my mother was
overwhelmed by and unprepared for the task of raising children by
herself. I assumed many of the
duties of taking care of my younger siblings (I am the oldest of
four) when I was 11 because I wanted to
help, and I somehow knew that my mother was not up to the task. We
were tight on money, and I spent
many hours listening to my mother’s problems and often dire
concerns about our future. While I didn’t
dislike the role, I wanted to be like other kids my age, and that
I wanted a different life when the time
came to go out on my own. No childhood is perfect, but mine seemed
to be several standard deviations
from perfect, at least in my mind.
By the time I was in high school, I knew that my “way out” was
through education, and I put my energy
towards getting into a good college. I was fortunate; I was
offered admittance to a prestigious university
in a different state along with a full academic scholarship, and I
accepted. Before I left for school, my
mother and I had a conversation about the future. She told me that
I didn’t have to have children. She
also told me that if she had the opportunity to do things over
again, she wouldn’t have kids. This was not
meant to be cruel, but rather as a “truth”. In retrospect, I think
she realized that she was not properly
prepared for parenthood, and that she had not done a very good job
at it. My father was largely absent
from my childhood, but he apparently felt the same way. While
visiting him on one occasion, he let slip
that our visit had interfered with his plans for the weekend, but
it wasn’t the first time. He went on to
say that I personally had dashed his plans of attending medical
school when my mother became
pregnant unexpectedly. The arrival of my siblings had sealed his
fate.
After graduation from college, I started into my career,
eventually went to graduate school, and for the
most part, did not think about marriage or family. My focus was
first on survival. I had no idea if I could
make it on my own, let alone think about caring for children. I
also didn’t seem to have that loudly
ticking “biological clock” that my friends talked about, and when
I dated, I didn’t think about whether
the guy was good “father material” or not as they did. I was
completely absorbed in my career, making
something of myself, being in control of my destiny, and frankly,
in enjoying myself for the first time in
my life.
When I was 29, I married a guy that I considered my equal. By then
I had established myself as a working
anthropologist with a good understanding of consumer insights and
a good reputation. I had moved to
New York and was working as an account planner at a major
advertising agency. My husband was a
rising star at a major music label, and things looked bright. We
had talked about having children when
we were dating, but it was never a major topic of discussion. We
both liked kids, but it was clearly
something we would do “later”. After we married, he began to ease
up in his work schedule to the point
that I worried it would affect his employment. It did, and he lost
his job. He looked for another job, but
quickly became discouraged. Since I was working, there was no
pressure to start working again. In an
attempt to motivate him, I arranged to take a job in Los Angeles
in hopes that the change in scenery
would help him find another job in his industry. Over the next
seven years, he was unable to find stable
employment and became more and more dependent upon me. During that
time, I had two miscarriages,
both of which I was sad for, but also secretly relieved about due
to “timing”. The marriage began to
unravel, and we discussed our options. We decided that, if we were
going to stay married and have kids,
we needed a fresh start.
I took a job north of New York City, thinking that my husband
being “home” again would inspire him to
get back to work, and that living outside a big city would be a
good family atmosphere. A few months
after returning to New York, we experienced the 9/11 attacks. A
month later, I found out completely by
accident that my husband was having an affair with a woman in Los
Angeles. Oddly, it was a relief.
Because the economy had largely come to a standstill in the weeks
following 9/11, I had a good deal of
time to think about things. Ruminating over my criteria for having
a child, I realized that I met the most
important criteria for parenthood: I was emotionally stable and
financially capable of taking care of
children. I didn’t have the solid relationship I wanted, but I
didn’t need it. I was relieved that I did not
have children with this man because I no longer wanted him in my
life. But even more importantly, I
realized that had I really wanted kids, the aforementioned
criteria wouldn’t have mattered. I would have
found a “work around”. I
was in my mid-thirties, the time women begin to believe they are in the home
stretch of their childbearing years, and I felt no remorse or
anxiety about being childless. For me,
parenthood was not the greatest of all life experiences, but
rather “checking the box”. Circumstances
had not been working against me; somehow, the universe was looking
out for me. I felt relief.
Some people believe that being childless is a selfish act.
Furthermore, some individuals believe that our
only true responsibility in life is to bear children. I even had a
scientist tell me that, as a woman, I was no
longer biologically relevant after 40 because my ability to bear
children is, for the most part, gone. I
disagree.
I love kids. I also love it when they go home! Being a parent, in
my opinion, is a full-time job - if you want
a crack at success. Raising children is the most important
undertaking that an individual will experience,
because the result cannot be written off as a bad debt, a failed
marketing effort, business bankruptcy or
otherwise. It’s serious shit. I had experience raising kids when I
was a kid. Maybe that’s why
motherhood did not call out loudly to me. What did call out loudly
and strongly was to make a success
of myself in a different way - through my career.
Today, I run a successful software company that would not have
been possible if I was trying to juggle
family and career. Admittedly, I’m not a very successful
multitasker! In this role, I provide the means by
which a number of people support their families, many of whom do
have children. I offer and support
working conditions that are conducive to families: flexible work
hours, job sharing, telecommuting,
extended parental leave, etc. I have the time and resources to
support political and philanthropic efforts
that support kids, and I do. My latest effort is to bring a
resource to disadvantaged high school
sophomores, juniors and seniors that will help them identify the
best college majors, schools and
careers for them based on their interests and experiences. I am a
senior fellow at the honors residential
college at a major university. My company provides paid
internships for pre-college age kids who are
thinking about a career in software development. You get the
picture.
Sometimes people ask me what will happen to me when I get old with
no children to take care of me.
It’s a fair question. Sometimes I look at my nieces and nephews,
when they’re being good, and wonder
what my life would have been like if I had had children. And then
I think about the people I know who
have children that they don’t speak to, or don’t have time for
them or only begrudgingly engage out of
duty. If I play my cards right, I hope to have people in my life
at that time were there because they want
to be there. Anything can happen; so far, so good.
