Why I wish I didn’t want children - by Zoe O.
Why I Wish I Didn’t Want Children - by Zoe O’Neill
Women today, at least in my little neck of the world, have choice. This is the outcome of generation upon generation of women fighting tooth and nail for such freedoms. Many women in their mid to late 20s today are juggling careers, hobbies, relationships, sex, socialising, along with unprecedented awareness of their fitness, self image, wealth management and friendship nurturing. Some of us feel like we’ve got the balance nailed, like we’ve reached the harmonious ying yang of the work-life equilibrium; And then WHAM! Those force-of-nature, procreate-or-die hormones kick in. For me that was at about age 26/27. A flood of fuck-off hormones telling me that I only needed one thing to be fulfilled in life: Offspring (and everything else be damned).
Suddenly all aspects of my life I had steadfastly built were being picked apart in terms of how they related to my ability to get knocked up and produce a mini-me. Sure, I had an amazing job opportunity to take over an established business and work for myself; a possibility to triple my earning capacity and flourish in my field BUT I thought, this is going to mean a hard slog. This will mean being my own task master and no paid holiday or sick leave. Most importantly; no maternity leave. I should point out at this stage that I had absolutely no intention of falling pregnant in the immediately foreseeable future. I had an IUD. I had always foreseen, in abstract terms, that I would have children in my 30s (like my mother did), and just generally this sort of extensive forward planning was just not my MO at all. But the hormones coursing through my body were telling my brain that this was IMPORTANT. This was the most valuable thing I could ever and would ever do and it required thinking about on some subconscious level, every minute of every fugging day…
Suddenly my partner, who I’d been with for 5 years didn’t seem mature enough, didn’t seem… reliable enough. His creative proclivities and gypsy charm didn’t appear s-t-a-b-l-e and supportive. After all, if I had to constantly badger him to do the dishes (one of his two jobs around the house) then how the fuck was he going to support us in the shared burden (I hesitate to use such a loaded word in this context but I’m going to anyway) of raising a child - hell, childREN: Plural!
Confession time. I’ve been pregnant once before. I was young and it was not to be, and I made a decision to have an abortion. It was a sensible choice for me and one that I have never, not even for a second, regretted. My experience does in no way account for every woman’s and it is an incredibly personal event that affects each of us in a different ways. I have had reason to wonder lately, how I would have handled the situation were it to have occurred now. With my body screaming at me that my ultimate value will be decided by the creation of another human. I’m not sure I would have stayed the course as I did then, and if I had - I’m sure it would have taken a far greater emotional toll.
I’m not the only woman I know to have had to make this decision. Some such women decided to go ahead with the pregnancy and gave birth to beautiful children (though as a strange aside, none of these women are in my close social circle - whatever that may say). Some, like me, chose to abort even though they do absolutely want children at some point. Some knew knew before, that motherhood was not for them. This does not mean that their decisions were any easier. It’s quite one thing to know your stance in theory, quite another to face it in all it’s brutal reality.
Some of my female friends have made a decision much more difficult than whether or not to maintain a pregnancy. They have made the decision - consciously, conscientiously and conclusively - about whether they want to be parents at all. I’m fortunate I suppose in that my circle of peers and acquaintances are quite liberal, respectful and generally not D-Bags. I’ve only ever had one person quip that foulest of foul ditty at me: “Tick Tock”. Yes, women have a biological clock. It’s something we always knew but something your body makes you abundantly aware of from about the age of 26 onwards. As an aside, PLEASE Mothers; teach your sons about this. Teach them to be understanding and compassionate to women and not speak down to them as being ‘emotional’ or ‘crazy’ as this clock kicks into awareness. This clock means that women are generally aware that they have a decision to make regarding parenthood. Unlike men who can face this event passively and without deadline, women must proactively address this quandry and choose.
Some of my friends have made that decision. They are all wonderful, complete people. They are all intelligent with dynamic and fulfilling lives. Some have creative careers and see that they do have a role as a nurturer, but that it will best take form as them being a doting aunty. Some have high powered careers, and/or vocations that involve children and feel that having their own may prevent them from conducting their job with a clear head. Many haven’t ruled out adoption in the future. All of these women have copped some sort of backlash from family, friends and society for their logical, personal and well reasoned decision; “Oh, just you wait. You’ll change your mind when the time is right”. No. These women are in their 30s and have already had their own bodies try to strong-arm them into pregnancy; condescension and a couple more years are not going to change that. “What about giving your parents Grandchildren?” Guilt - now there’s a great reason to bring a new life into this world.
These women who have stared biology in the face and made a conscious decision, against what many in society dictate is the “right” matter of course, are my heroes. I am also phenomenally envious of them.
Because, somewhat unfortunately, I do want children. I can’t explain why I love kids so much, or why I’ve always felt that I would be incomplete without them. I’d say it’s just my late 20s hormones blackmailing me, but I’ve felt like this since I was a child. Maybe it’s a product of being raised by a single mother and having known that intense mother-child relationship. Maybe it’s being an only child and wanting someone else to nurture. I don’t know. All I know is that I will immediately stop whatever I’m doing to roll around on the floor with my nieces and nephew; or pretty much any child who’s curiosity I pique. I’m not someone who goes gooey over cats or dogs generally, but put a small child in my vicinity and I will happily play imaginary adventure games and ‘monsters’ on repeat for hours without ever ceasing to be enthralled by their energy and capacity to learn.
Despite this, I’ve always valued my own life and independence. I travel. I spend my money on me. I eat, drink, go out dancing. I answer to no-one. I’ve lived like a rockstar and I’ve wandered like a gypsy. I stay out till sunrise on weeknights, gone on overseas travel on a whim and I alone pay the consequences. I’ve loved - deeply, passionately, clandestinely and at times, irresponsibly. I’ve risked my personal safety for an assortment of highs. I’ve prioritised living excessively, while pursuing further education, a professional qualification, and a career. I’ve gone “all-in” but never had to really sacrifice any of my freedoms along the way. Which brings me to my starting point. How do I live MY life, and make room for someone else in it too? Not a partner, but an all consuming being who is pre-occupying my thoughts and has me into a tailspin years before they even exist?
After being raised a feminist and unflinchingly believing that I, and all modern women, can ‘have it all’, how does this actually fit into the framework of my reality? How to get the timing right? How to have the best of both worlds? How to do it all without fucking ‘it all’ up? How to live without regrets? How to prioritise yourself without being utterly selfish?
Above all, how to manage all of this without losing your mind? This is not an intellectual exercise. It’s not even a purely emotional or psychological one. For me, and women my age, this quandary is visceral. It’s physical and guttural and very very real. It’s a conversation that needs to stop playing around my head several times a day, and be spoken out loud.
