I Don't Think I Want Children

This post is all over the place, but that's ok, because when it comes to this topic, I'm sort of all over the place.

Father with daughter.  Cutest thing ever.

Madison Square Park.  May 2012.

Seriously.  I've thought about it for almost five years.  I go back and forth on the subject but almost always, I talk myself out of it.  It's that I'm too emotionally unprepared, that I'm too stubborn, that I'm too immature, that I can't even figure out how to have a relationship with my mother, how will I ever manage the humility and grace required of allowing a grandchild to grow a relationship with her grandparents?  Ironically, I know that I am maternal enough; it's the other things that have me wringing my hands (internally, of course, because, um, have we met?).  Admittedly, while I typed the words of this post's title, and now that I see the words on the screen, things are still a little hazy.

There was a turning point for me this past fall.  I was at a work function chatting with someone when, as an aside, she said, "I'm not having children" and then continued on her merry way with the rest of her story.  I looked at her as my brain processed her words.  Her statement was so resolute.  She didn't even flinch.  So finite.  So matter-of-fact.

It was refreshing.

I thought, what personal narrative could this woman, someone my age, someone far more successful and caring, someone whom I thought would make for the perfect mother candidate, have that would bring her to decide so progressively on motherhood?  I had heard of the notion before, but hadn't met anyone who was so comfortable and self-assured with her decision that she openly carried it into and out of conversation.  Part of me was sad, thinking that a mini version of this woman would actually be a gift to the world.  She was completely ok with it.  Just like that, a little magic wand appeared and twirled atop my head.  Was I in the same boat?

The reasons I left Philadelphia were many, but none of them were as compelling as the fact that our baby brother had finally graduated high school.  It was the summer of 2007 and he had been living with me since his junior year.  Ever heard of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air?  It was a little bit like that, only the bad influences were our parents, not his neighborhood peers.  And instead of moving into a mansion with his rich aunt and uncle, he downsized into a small apartment with his modest income twenty-something sister.  Things had spun out of control by the time he arrived at my place.  When it was all over and he had his diploma in his hands, I submitted my resignation to the greatest boss I ever had, sold all my furniture, and moved here.

I learned so much about myself during that time: what true friends did; what loving people did for one another; how good, compassionate people handled trying situations.  It really lit up humanity for me.  Humans are amazing.  Really.  One of my greatest lessons was that I don't have the spine to be a lifelong single caretaker.  It is, to put simply, not for the weak.  And I am exceptionally weak in more ways than one.  I can hold myself up, but only by a thread.  And so I decided, if I can help it, I will never choose the path of single parenthood.

Since then, this line of thinking has morphed into, well, maybe I'm not cut out to be a mother at all.  Coming from the girl who had planned on seven children (four biological and three adopted!) this is a complete one-eighty.  I'm still shocked.  Ultimately, because I don't want to go at it alone, my choice will be navigated by my partner.  I'm not blind to that.  I trust that he'll steer me in the right direction, whether that's with child or without.  Poor guy.  Taking me on sounds like a lot of work.