This has been a topic of conversation among my peers for a while now. I’m hurtling towards the big 3-0 like nobodies business, whereas most of my friends are in their mid twenties but even though we’re not quite the same age, we all have the same decision to make eventually – to have children or to not have children.
For generations, society has dictated that when girls grow up, they become child bearers, mothers and wives. In more recent years, the ‘you can have it all’ movement gave way to women deciding to shun the typical route of getting married and having children instead to focus on being career women first and mothers second.
I am part of a group of women who have not only shunned society’s labels of wife and mother and career woman. I am simply ME.
At 29 years of age, I am at my childbearing peak. In a few years my eggs will start to dwindle and my chances of becoming pregnant get lower. But, for me, this isn’t an issue because I am consciously CHILD FREE. I do not want to have a baby, ever.
My Mother’s Mother wasn’t a maternal lady. She wasn’t a natural mother, but in the 50s, women had babies, that’s just what they did. My own Mother has said that she too didn’t have a maternal instinct (despite having myself and my elder sister) and if she had her time again, she probably wouldn’t have had children. I don’t blame her for saying that, I know how hard she has toiled bringing up my sister and I.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your stance, mental illness is a family issue for me – it’s in both sides of my family (thanks Mum, thanks Dad!) and I also have a physical (inherited) disability. Knowing that I have inherited these conditions really has made me consider how this may affect my own offspring.
Making the decision to not have children has been an incredibly easy decision for me. Mostly, because like my Mum and Grandma, I seem to have missed the ‘maternal instinct’ gene (if there is one). I see babies and I recoil. The noise they make sounds like nails down a chalk board and I hate bright colours. I hate everything to do with children – the tv shows, the Pixar movies, the nursery rhymes, the toilet training, the school run and most importantly, childbirth.
I have absolutely no interest in carrying a baby in my (poorly designed) body. Having an inheritable connective tissue disorder comes with its own problems so being pregnant whilst having EDS is no mean feat. I can’t run about like I’d need to with a child, I can barely hold my 1 year old Nephew for more than a minute before I’m in excrutiating pain, so physically I know I wouldn’t cope being a mother.
And most importantly for me, I’m too selfish. I love sex, travel and antiques. My partner and I are planning on restoring a Victorian house at some point in our future. You simply can’t do that and afford to pay for a child too. We’re both in our late twenties, I can’t work so we’d be relying on his salary. It’s just too much.
Thankfully, I’m with a man who, like me, has little interest in having his own offspring. He is a Primary School teacher, so loves to come home at the end of the day to peace and quiet. His job as a teacher is extremely fulfilling and he loves imprinting knowledge on the young. Thankfully for me, we’re both on the same page when it comes to being child-free.
You may notice I use the term childfree rather than childless, because to me, I am free of children. I am not ‘less’ – if anything, I can be more than just a Mum. I’m not saying there is anything at all wrong with women who want to be Mums. I just know in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t born to bring a child into the world. I want to travel the world while I’m able to (my condition is degenerative), I want to buy luxurious sofas and thick carpets that aren’t going to have paint or pen trodden into them. I want bricks and mortar and to sit by the open fire with my (one day) husband and our cats.
To me, that is the best thing about being a twenty-something; I can choose who I want to be and so can you.