The Ache of Not Wanting Children
I came across a poem today that deeply moved me. I was casually scrolling through my Facebook feed when a video of a woman performing this poem came across my feed. I’m not sure what made me watch this particular video. Usually I just scroll past videos without a second thought, but there was something about her that made me stop. She’s a beautiful plus-sized woman in bright colors and the first line of the poem says, “When my boyfriend sends me a text that asks…”. I think some part of me just wanted to hear this woman complain about her boyfriend. Listening to plus sized women like myself complain about their interactions with men is somewhat cathartic to me. When I hear their stories, it validates my own experiences. It also makes me feel glad that I’ve willingly taken myself off the market and developed certain standards that I hope will help me avoid repeating my own bad experiences or having more stories like theirs. What I was not expecting when I watched this video was to feel like someone had totally and completely understood my feelings toward motherhood and my own potential to bear children.
The poem beautifully encompasses all of the pressures the poet, Rachel Wiley, feels from the outside world to have children. More importantly, she depicts the specific pain of knowing that having children is not for you. She calls this pain an “ache” and I was astounded by how accurate that description felt.
As someone who is almost certain that I don’t want to have children, there are a million waring thoughts that go through my mind whenever I consider that future. There is the small, but powerful desire to follow the traditional path, build a home, build a family, and live that idealized version of the American dream. This desire runs deep because of cultural conditioning, biology, and the fact that I don’t hate children (something Riley mentions in her poem that I felt particularly drawn to). It is not as if I think children are the worst thing in the world or that having a traditional family would be horrible. It’s quite the opposite, actually. I think on that potential future frequently and quite fondly. The miraculous feeling of creating life, the idea that I will have created something so beautiful, the unconditional love a parent feels toward their child, the thought that I would in all likelihood be a good mother and raise wonderful children - these thoughts all rage through my mind. Having children is not something I look on with disdain or scorn, and yet, I don’t think it’s for me.
“I love my not at all childproofed life.”
Gorgeous sunset views from a plane trip I took recently.
As beautiful as the future of having children seems to me, a future full of freedom and adventure, of peace and quiet, of being responsible only for myself and answering only to myself is, at this particular moment in time, much more in line with the life I want for myself. It takes a lot of self-reflection to be able to say that I think I’m too selfish to be a good parent. Of course, if I found myself in the situation of motherhood (which, given my privilege of being middle class in California and having access to reproductive healthcare, is not something likely to happen), I would do everything in my power to be a good one. But the truth of it is, I do think I’d resent my children for the possibilities, potential, and peace that I would lose as a mother. As Wiley says, “I own and like owning breakable things. I am and like being the one to break them.” I love my not at all childproofed life.
While the idea of having children currently makes me feel as though I would lose more than I would gain and I have essentially decided against that path for myself, I can’t deny that there are difficult sacrifices and aches that making that decision creates. When I say that I don’t want to have children, it isn’t an easy, casual, or flippant decision. It isn’t to be contrary or get a rise out of people. It is the result of genuine self-knowledge and, in many ways, sacrifice. For those of you considering the future of parenthood, be sure to take the time to assess what you truly want out of life. Being a parent may be your true desire, but it’s a huge decision to make without fully examining it and while under the pressures of society. Think deep, think hard, and do what will make you happiest. If you’re of the “You’ll definitely want kids when you’re older” or “But babies are so cute!” crowd, I encourage you to take a minute and think about all the sacrifice, all the ache, you might bring up in someone when you place that seemingly harmless pressure on them. This decision isn’t easy, it isn’t casual, but it’s absolutely the right one for some of us.
While you’re here, please take the time to watch this beautiful poem performed. Perhaps it will move you the same way it moved me.
