To The Women Who Choose Not To Have Kids- Abby Rosmarin

 

Source: http://thoughtcatalog.com/abby-rosmarin/2013/12/to-the-women-who-choose-not-to-have-kids/

Abby Rosmarin

To the women who choose not to have kids, I have one thing to say: thank you.

You probably don’t hear it enough. In fact, you probably don’t hear it at all. What you do hear is an array of pro-childbearing responses, such as, “You’ll change your mind someday,” or, “Doesn’t your mother want grandkids?” or, “You’ll never find a husband if you never want to have kids.”

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All things considered, “thank you” is probably on the opposite end of what you hear.
But seriously: thank you. Thank you for recognizing that childrearing isn’t for you and being true to who you are. It doesn’t mean you hate kids. It just means that raising one is not part of your path in life.
Thank you for not succumbing to the societal pressures. I’ve known far too many parents who had kids because that’s what was expected of them. Working in childcare, you see more of this type than you wish to see. The resentment is almost palpable. They love their children — at least, they have no choice but to love their children — but every single movement seems to scream, “I wasn’t meant for this.” I’ve known too many people who grew up with at least one parent who harbored that resentment, who let that resentment dictate how they parented. I’ve seen how that influenced the way these former children are now as adults, or even as parents themselves.
Thank you for not trying to compromise who you are in an effort to keep a partner around. Thank you for being honest and open and refusing to apologize for who you are. Everyone has different values. Everyone wants something different in life. It takes a lot of guts and confidence to say, “This is what I want in life. It’s not the orthodox way, but it’s my way.”
Thank you for not trying to silence that feeling in your gut as a means to validate your life. There are too many people in this world who cannot figure out their path — or have stumbled while walking down said path — and decided that maybe having a child could provide that meaning and definition instead. You understand that down this path lies vicarious living and hurt emotions and you recognize that there are so many other ways to find love and meaning and joy in your life.
Raising children is a difficult, onerous, frustrating, and disappointing gig. It’s tough enough for those who want it. It is a rewarding and loving gig as well, but it’s not something one should go into while focusing only on reward and love and societal acceptance. In this day and age, with a booming population in almost every country, it makes no sense to pressure every person to have a baby. But we’re sticklers to tradition, ritualistic to a fault.
So thank you. It’s not easy to stand firm with your belief. Honestly, truly, and genuinely: thank you. 

Unapologetically child-free by Janaki Lenin

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/chen-columns/unapologetically-childfree/article4837335.ece

When I was 13, I announced I wasn’t ever going to have babies. I could tell from my mother’s pained expression that I was being difficult. She suggested, “Why don’t you wait till you’re older before you make that decision?”

Just a few days earlier, I had declared with the air of a haughty artist, “Aesthetically, ears are ugly.” The only reason I remember moments like these are my poor mother’s reactions. Throughout my growing years, aunts handed me baby-cousins to look after during weddings and family gatherings. I was a girl and ought to have an automatic desire to care for babies. But I never felt maternal, no matter how hard I tried. I thought babies were like ears. Most Indian families I know are besotted with marriage and children. As soon as I turned 18, the nagging began, “When are you getting married?” Then I dropped Rom, the bomb, on them, and after the initial shock wore off, relatives nagged, “When are you having children?” Nobody thought to ask if I wanted babies. I didn’t desire them nor was I convinced there was a good reason to have them. I imagined myself in my mother’s position, and immediately baulked at the idea of bringing me up.

As an adult, I revelled in my newfound freedom. I had spent more than a decade dreaming of it. Having a child would put me under another kind of tyranny for at least 18 long years, if I was lucky. And I would have to be a tyrant, too.

My friends, however, wasted no time in making the transition from brides to mothers. They sent euphoric emails with numerous pictures. Puzzled, I asked Rom, “What’s the big deal? Anyone with ovaries can pop babies out, right?” With a look of mock-horror, he signalled me to hush up before imaginary neighbours overheard the blasphemy.

But my attitude to baby animals was different. I watched Rom and the Croc Bank staff fret over compatibility of reptile mates, the right conditions for courtship, and eagerly anticipate eggs and babies. Once they passed that gauntlet, they struggled to control humidity, temperature, fungal infections, mortality, and finding the right prey for the babies. If the babies survived past their first birthdays, there was much-deserved celebration all around.

Many parents feel insulted that I skipped motherhood. One matriarch tried hard to divine the problem. Throughout the rest of our stay, she asked about which fertility treatments we had sought. I tried to explain it was a deliberate choice; I may as well have been speaking Martian because I made no sense to her.

As is typical on trains, after demanding to know what I did and was I married, a stranger asked, “How many issues [children]?” “None.” “Why not?” “Because issues don’t have fur.” I went back to reading my book, while he spluttered on about how women are incomplete without babies. When I didn’t rise to the bait, he demanded, “Who will look after you in your old age?” I shot back, “And you have a pre-natal agreement with your children, right?”

A few people wagered I would change my mind if a baby parachuted into my life. I countered, “What if I don’t? Would you take the baby back?” Now I was being rude, they concluded.

Many misinterpreted my words as criticism of their choice to have children. No matter how I couched my explanation, there was no way of treading softly. People saw my rejection of baby-dom as a religious challenge. My child-freedom also poses another kind of challenge. For genes to survive, organisms have to reproduce. My poor genes watch helplessly as I happily and without regret consign them to a reproductive dead-end.

Ever seen a bumper sticker “We two; ours none”?