Here’s the deal — I don’t want kids, I never have, and I don’t think I ever will. For years now I’ve had TONS of folks tell me “you’ll seeeee… that’ll change… wait until you hit 25… 27… 30…” I turned 30 last year, and it still hasn’t changed.
The only thing that has changed is that I’ve started to feel my biological clock ticking. And I’m wondering if maybe that’s what people mean by, “one day you’ll want kids.” Have all those people confused the feeling of their bodies becoming ready to get pregnant with the feeling of actually wanting a kid? Or am I so broken and scared shitless of children that it’s acting like a numbing agent to that “gimme a kid NAOW” feeling? I don’t know. But, I have a feeling that’s part of it.
Even with my body telling me that it’s baby-makin’ time, my logical mind is telling me NO FREAKING WAY! I’m not responsible enough, I’m not patient enough, I’m not tolerant enough, I’m not maternal enough, I’m not stable enough, and, until recently, that guy I married and I haven’t been employed enough to have a kid. Plus I have a whole host of irrational fears concerning the human body (belly buttons, blood, scar tissue, veins, I’ll stop now before I look even crazier), so all those weird pregnancy changes would just freak me out WAY too much.
But besides all the obvious reasons why we shouldn’t have kids — lack of responsibility, time, money, shits being given — there’s also another big reason why I never want to produce offspring. And though what I’m about to tell you may sound funny, I assure you, I am in no way kidding…
One time, I saw a pile of babies.
I was at a family event when it happened. Almost all of my female cousins had recently given birth within the year. (Sometimes I think my family members are trying to attempt world domination by sheer number.) My grandmother had the idea to take a group photo of all the newest additions. So all the gals placed their babies on a blanket one by one. And there it was — about five or six half-naked, sticky, drooling babies, squirming around and crawling over one another.
I was witness to a pile of small humans.
And that, my friends, is now one of the top reasons that I don’t want kids. I really don’t want to contribute to the growing pile of babies that my family is creating.
Baby piles, irrational fears, and responsibility issues aside… even though I’m pretty sure that I don’t ever want to be a parent, I know better than to speak in absolutes. Both Aaron and I are open to the fact that we may change our minds at some point, what with the whole biological clock thing, we’re just crossing our fingers that we don’t change.
But, I’ll tell you something that I’ve just recently admitted to myself — I sometimes wish that I wanted to have kids. Things would actually be easier on us, in some ways, to just know what we wanted. We could plan our future accordingly — make plans, save up money, get some of that ol’ health insurance stuff, etc.
It would also make our families super happy. They really haven’t been NOT pushy and open about how much they want us to have kids. And, to be honest, I’d love to see what a combination of both Aaron and me would look like. I’d also enjoy seeing my dad do fun grandpa stuff with the kid. And I bet being pregnant feels freaking amazing, you know, once you’re past all that barfing — I’m sure it’s all very romantic. Ooh, and think of all the sex you could be having without worrying about getting pregnant!
But as it stands Aaron and I are just not ready for that. Nor, if I’m being logical, do I think that we’ll ever be.
So that’s that. Babies are still a no-go even though I can definitely feel that pesky biological clock. I just keep hitting the snooze button in hopes that the damn clock will just run out of batteries and shut itself off soon.