For The Millionth Time: We Are Not Having Kids

I don’t see why it’s so difficult for people to understand. We’re not having kids. Period.

If you have kids, that’s great. Honestly. I know tone doesn’t always translate well on the internet, and for that I’m sorry, but believe me when I say that if you’ve always wanted children, you should have them. Enjoy them.

I’m not anti-kid. I have two nephews that I love like crazy, and any future nieces and nephews will also be welcomed with open arms and spoiled rotten. But enjoying kids is not the same as wanting your own.

I know most people mean well. They cherish their own kids, and find fulfillment and purpose in raising them. It saddens them that I’m “missing out”. I appreciate the concern.

Where it gets frustrating is when a simple “nope, not for us” goes unheeded. I’m a woman in my thirties. I’ve had lots and lots of time to think this over, and being female I’ve had lots of heavy encouragement to jump on the parent-wagon. I’ve been in a straight relationship for years; it’s not like we couldn’t have tried for kids, had we wanted them. The simple fact is that we’ve made our decision, and prodding us is irritating, not influential.

Flip it for a second: what would it be like if, instead of congratulating you on your pregnancy, I raised an eyebrow and said, “But what if you change your mind?”

I realize parenting is hard work. I know that parents make sacrifices in order to give the best to their children. If bowing out makes me selfish, then so be it. But my life, our life together, is just plain built differently. We have different goals and ambitions, and enjoy spending our time differently. We have different expectations for the future. We find satisfaction and contentment in other places.

If I wouldn’t force my life on you, why force yours on me?