Secret's Out

...and it's time for the gossipping to begin!

Last night my husband and I joined his family for the rehearsal dinner for his stepbrother's wedding. We had the unfortunate seating arrangement of being surrounded by (a) our nephews, who were tired, cranky and fidgety and (b) the notorious Aunt S (the one who cornered us on the boat at the reunion and spent half an hour on a rant about couples who get married and "waste" too much time having fun before doing what's important -- starting a family -- and how parents who only have one child are horribly selfish), complete with three glasses of wine before we even arrived. Luckily, Aunt S was next to my husband -- I had to help watch and discipline the middle nephew, who adores me but is nonetheless a giant PITA who doesn't listen and is in his mockery stage where he repeats everything anyone says. FUN! But again, I had the easy job.

Aunt S's daughter was getting visibly annoyed by the boys. While she's got a case of the baby rabies herself right now (she recently issued an ultimatum to her husband -- they either start trying in one year or it's divorce), she wants girls and only girls. A houseful of girls. Well, Aunt S taunted her and said "you're going to have all boys," which set her off. It wasn't a pretty scene.

She then asked A, "so when are you two going to start trying?" I was busy wrangling the two oldest nephews when I heard "…if we decide to have kids," followed by Aunt S's loud gasp. "If? DECIDE? What do you mean, IF?" Now, I'm all for being honest and opening up with the family about this, but S +4 (she's quick) glasses of wine is probably NOT the best test case to try this out on. She got very very flustered and only dropped it when her sister (A's stepmom) told her to stop making a scene. She was getting very defensive and A had tried to lighten it with comedy, but she was getting more and more defiant.

A prelude, perhaps? Who knows. S is a big lush and gets very boisterous and opinionated (her opinion = she is right) after the wine starts flowing. (I learned this the hard way at my first Christmas with the family.) I know this conversation with her isn't over (it never is), but maybe it will lead to finally coming out and dealing with the problems.

But at least it's out there. Although we *have* decided for certain, it's probably best to open the discussion with the notion that we're still making up our minds -- give them some time to get used to the idea before we come out and say "we're sure about this".

It's Only Fair

I had the opportunity to be interviewed for a professional women's magazine that was doing an article, so I thought, on childfree women in the workplace. Because the writer flaked out on me and didn't call for weeks, only finally reaching me near the end of her deadline when i was unavailable, I was not interviewed. After reading the article, which came out this month, I am SO happy I was not interviewed.

Had I been interviewed, I surely would have become the "bad guy" in an article about the "Opt-Out Revolution." The article ended up being about women who return to the workplace after having children, and I can see it now. I can see my quotes about how I've been made to take on extra work, to work extra hours while the people with "real" families went home, being taken in a horrifically negative context. I really want to write the journalist and ask her why she changed the focus of her article. I want to know what questions she'd have asked me if we were able to connect. I want to know what she'd have done with an anecdote about my boss treating my goings on as far less important than the activities of the parents in my creative team, volunteering me to stay late because everyone else had families to go to, and my plans were just with friends and my husband.

It makes me sad that the article took this turn, that perhaps her editors intervened and said "let's make this from a mother's point-of-view because more women can relate to that." Or maybe she's a mother herself, unable to handle talking to childfree women who have chosen to focus on their careers. I'd like to know, but I'm afraid to ask.

I've had this discussion with my parent friends, those who've "opted out" of professional careers. While I'm not in the camp that thinks mothers are "ruining everything" for childfree women, I have felt the discrimination. I've felt self-conscious about letting potential employers know that I'm a newlywed. My previous boss had spoken out and actually said ih he had his way he wouldn't have women who were planning weddings working for him because they spend all their time focusing on the wedding, then as soon as they're done they start having babies, stringing the company along during the maternity leave, then quitting entirely as soon as the baby is born. While this sounds like a heartless thing, it's often very true. It happened with several coworkers throughout my 18 months with the company. I found mysef wondering if I would hire a newlywed, or a new mother, as a business owner myself, because of all the missed work, the inflexible availability that a mother has, and I hate myself for thinking that I might discriminate, even if it were subconsciously.

I do have a problem with parent-friendly rules in the workplace when they don't make equal concessions for people with alternative families -- couples with friends who are family, in my case. Sure, allow flex-time, but allow it for everyone, not just because someone has a sick kid. If I have to take my cat to the vet, allow me the same rights. If my husband is sick and needs someone to help him at home, allow me to work from home if Annie with the sick baby can do the same.

And yet if I suggest things like this, people act as if it's unreasonable to expect these things. I don't appreciate being treated as less deserving than a parent, that my relationships are less valuable, that putting family before work doesn't count if it's managing my close personal relationships that do not involve kids.

All I want is equality, but I fear that if I were to interview for that magazine, or any of the others that might come my way as a result of this blog, that my message will be miscontrued. Do I think that women who choose to leave their careers to raise children are "ruining everything"? It's not a black & white thing, so it's hard to answer.

I once said to my sister-in-law who was quitting her job to raise her kids that I don't believe it's possible to have a full-time career, a happy marriage, and still raise well-adjusted kids. She fired off that it's because companies won't let mothers have the flexibility they need. And while that is true on some sense, it's also true that workplace flexibility needs to be approached not from a parents' rights position, but as a people's rights issue in order to maintain fairness.

Why is that such an inflamatory idea?

The Saddest Thing I've Ever Read

Well, of course that's an exaggeration, but this morning I came across a statement that really affected me and I had to write about it.

I spent my morning being a MySpace voyeur, peeking into the lives of people I went to high school with, or maybe the friends of friends of friends. I came across the profile of a girl I went to high school with -- didn't know her, wasn't her friend, but because I was the yearbook copy editor, I know names, I know faces -- it was my job. So anyway, I recognized her.

Read a bit in her profile, and landed where the "Interests" tag is, where someone would put "I like reading, movies, drawing and animals" or something.

She wrote:
"I used to have a lot of interests. Now my only interests are my 2-year-old son and sleeping. I have no time for anything else."

It just made me really, really sad. I already lack the time to do all the things I want to do -- knit an afghan, make my own renaissance faire costumes, read books, actually complete my NaNoWriMo novel, learn to speak Polish and practice my Spanish, or even keep my own house clean. Another drain on my time would make me miserable.

I would mourn my "interests", my hobbies and passions, if I were her. I'm so glad I'm not.

The Rules

A Mom friend recently posted a list in her journal about non-parent etiquette toward other people's kids after an unfortunate confrontation with her mother and little brother who recently moved down the street from them after living hours away, causing all sorts of boundary issues. What got me, though, was that while it was designed toward her parents, she said it was for non-parents. I found this interesting, but I can't tell her that.

So instead, I'm going to express my irritation in this journal by posting a list of my own:
PARENT TO CHILD-FREE ETIQUETTE
i.e. "Things you cannot say to me if I can't tell you 'I don't know how you do it' without you getting bent out of shape and thinking I'm insulting you."
1. "You don't know what life is until you have children." Also, "life isn't worth living without children," and "children are the reason we're all here." You're not doing anything but insulting me, telling me my life is worthless. Do you know how it feels to be told your life is worthless? We are happy, we are happy with each other and in our lives.
2. "I didn't think I wanted kids either, until I had my own." I think I speak for much of the childfree community when I say that we believe that if you don't want kids, you have no business having them. It is irresponsible to risk that you might not like it once you have the children, and it's unfair to the children. Not ever woman can be a mom. Not every woman wants to be a mom. Deal with it. Oh, and ditto on "it's different when they're you're own kids."
3. "You're going against God's plan!" This one is up there with the "why did you get married in the first place" commentary. I won't even go into all the reasons this is inappropriate, whatever religion you subscribe to.
4. In a nutshell, comments like "you'll change your mind", "you'll regret it later", and "you don't know what you're missing" are also off-limits.

Ask me questions, be open-minded, open a dialogue with me. I want to talk about it with you, to help you understand my side of the story. But if you enter that conversation with the intention of changing my mind or convincing me that I'm making a horrible mistake, we'll never get anywhere. Understand that this is horribly disrespectful to me.

I promise to never try to convince you that having children was the wrong decision, that you made a huge mistake, or that one day you'll end up regretting your life and wishing you could go back in time and do it over without the kids.

Open a dialogue. Don't lecture. Don't judge.

That's all I ask.

Snuggle Time

This is sort of a personal post, but it's a big part of the decision my husband and I have made.

My husband and I are big snugglers. Every morning we set our alarm for half an hour before we need to get up to build snuggle time into our mornings. It's an important part of our day, ridiculous as it may sound. When we started out four years ago, everyone told us that this part of our relationship would pass, that we wouldn't always want to snuggle up on the sofa, that we'd tire of sleeping wrapped up in each other. But, if anything, we love it even more. It's who we are as a couple.

It didn't take long to see when we stayed at my best friend's house, to see that children make that incredibly difficult, if not impossible. We lay in bed that morning, and even though we had nothing to do with the kids, who were corralled upstairs and away from us, that peace would not come to us and it was time to get up. We had gone out the night before (Grandma babysat the boys), and we only slept for about four hours before the kids were running about, playing with the dog (named "Bob Barker" for a reason). Breakfast came late, after the kids were fed and cleaned up. We weren't even involved in the care of the kids; we were spectators. Yet our day was still dominated by the kids.

The entire weekend, even though we weren't the parents, we were never a couple. We'd snuggle up on the sofa and the oldest, T, would hop in between us. We love when he does that -- I think it's awesome that he's so fond of us even though he so rarely sees us. And we don't miss couple time when T is around. But it's a moment at a time, it's a day, it's not a lifetime. It's a day that we can leave behind us with hugs and an extended goodbye.

My husband and I sat in our car, leaving their house after that goodbye, in the silent car. The car is never silent; we always listen to the radio, a CD, the iPod, something. But whenever we leave a home with children, the first leg of the trip is always silent. It's something we find ourselves craving. We leave, thankful that the life of our friends, or our family, ruled by their children, is not our life.

If we lost our snuggle time watching TV, or if it instead involved a third party, we'd survive. Might even be nice once in awhile. If we didn't have dinner together, at the table, and instead had a kid to concentrate on instead of each other, a kid fighting for one of our attention, we'd manage. And if, instead of laying in bed together, lazily flopping from side to side, switching between snuggler and snugglee, we were instead deciding whose turn it was to tend to the children, it would be okay. I suppose. I say this with a heavy heart because with each potential "what if", I feel sadder and sadder, with an increasing sense of loss.

When people say that a child brings fulfillment, completes a marriage...I don't see that in our case. We fulfill each other. Anything that comes between us, even something that would be, I suppose literally, a little part of each of us, would hurt what we have. I cherish our time together. It's something that many of the couples we know lack, those with and without kids. But we're happy how we are. That's a pretty big thing.

Do the Math

My husband and I have just begun watching Mogan Spurlock's (of "Supersize Me" fame) series 30 Days on DVD. Last night we watched the Minimum Wage episode, where he and his fiancée live on minimum wage for 30 days, and it made me very angry.

Not at the filmmaker — I think it was very important what he did. It opened my eyes to how great my life really is. We have money in savings, we eat what we want, we never have to wonder where our grocery money is coming from or anything. It's wonderful.

I'm not sure whom I'm mad at, to be honest. There was a point in the show where Morgan ran into a 22-year-old man with four children to support on $7 an hour. Why why WHY don't people think about the cost of having children before they actually do?! I look at our life and I wonder how we would ever manage to put anything at all in savings if we had children to raise, and we're comfortably in the middle class.

Glancing at my credit card statement -- my first one since my credit limit was raised and the first with a significant balance on it thanks to a series of plane tickets for two vacations -- I was horrified to see a $40 interest charge for a single month. No WONDER families are in so much debt! If they don't have the money to buy things, they put it all on credit cards. My minimum payment was $10 less than the interest payment. It was horrific to see -- so horrific that I borrowed from my savings account to pay it off. It's such a conspiracy, really.

But I think about all the families that rely on credit cards and end up in $20, $30, $50,000 of credit card debt alone, and it makes me so angry. Does ANYONE do the math?

It all seems so simple. Children are expensive. They need food, clothing, entertainment, etc., all separate from the adults. And let's not even go there when it comes to childcare. There's a mindset that "if you wait 'til you can afford it, then it will NEVER happen!" "If you get pregnant, then it's meant to be. God won't put more on you than you can handle." BULL. SHIT.

I see people constantly with more than they can handle. The only reason they're handling it at all is because the rest of us who pay our taxes and work for a living are handling it for them. I have accepted that when we buy a house, we'll be paying for services like schools and health care for children we don't have. But that people are having 4, 6, 8 children without having the means to afford it, it just makes me sick.

Why does critical thinking go out the window when it comes to pregnancy and babies? Why oh why do people make excuses and call each one a gift from God, even though some parents have children living in squalor, going hungry, just because it was "God's Plan."

It's bullshit and nothing but people using God to make excuses for their selfish behavior. If you can't afford to care for a child, then you have no business having one. PERIOD.

Does that change the reality that children will be born to unfit, unprepared parents? Of course not. But until every child can be cared for and cared for well, I will continue to believe that there are already far too many children for this little planet to handle, and it would be wholly irresponsible for me to add to that burden.

Growing Old Together

It's often asked of childfree couples what we might do when we're older. What about grandchildren? Won't we be lonely? Who will care for us?

Set aside the fact that having children is absolutely no guarantee of future care. My friend's father (rest his soul) was abandoned by all his children but her and her husband, who took him in when he was too ill, and provided him home hospice care when their family, with meager means, could not afford a dignified nursing home. She and her husband lived in misery for her father, sacrificing much of their first year of marriage, caring for him. They wanted to do this, but the lack of caring from her other siblings was constant and palpable. Her father was miserable and knew that only his eldest daughter gave a damn about what happened to him when he became incapacitated.

Many aren't even fortunate enough to have one of their many children care for them.

My husband and I, on the other hand, will have a long-term care plan to guarantee us care when there's no one else to do that. The money we save by not having children will go to our retirement and future healthcare arrangements. We will have this luxury.

Aside from care, there was the question of loneliness. This was answered for us at Dragon*Con, a science fiction convention in Atlanta that we were fortunate enough to attend this past weekend. Throughout the *Con, we saw this adorable little costumed couple -- at least in their 60s, sometimes in full Jedi regalia, other times as elaborate wizards -- having a blast. Their love for each other could be felt a mile away and they were so clearly having a blast, talking to other *Con-goers, smiling with each other, posing gleefully for photos. My husband and I mused that we would be that couple in 30 years.

The best part? A dear friend, upon seeing the couple for the first time near the end of the *Con, turned to me and said "that is SO going to be you and A in 30 years".

I don't believe children keep one young. I believe the responsibility for that lies i oneself. In many, I daresay most cases, children make one exhausted, bitter, grumpy and haggard. They turn loving couples against each other, unable to appreciate each other after years of putting the children ahead of their relationships. It makes me sad.

I wish I'd approached the little wizard couple at Dragon*Con. My instinct was that they were childfree, but who knows. In my fantasy, they are, kept young because they never decided to grow up. That's the beauty of remaining childfree -- you never have to grow up. You pay your bills, manage your investments, buy your houses and cars, but there's also no reason you can't have ice cream for breakfast, stay in Saturday morning and watch cartoons while snuggling on the sofa, decide on a whim to go on a roadtrip, or maybe just to the mall.

Sure, you can do this with kids if you put your mind to it. It's just not as fun because whenever you're with kids, you still have to be The Grown-Up. I never want to be in a situation where I have to be The Grown-Up for more than a day or so at a time.

Coming Clean

So I told my sister-in-law M that we're not having children.

Sort of.

It was my future sister-in-law's wedding shower, and I was sat at the table with all the sisters and cousins, all of whom have children. I was also seated directly across from M and baby J. I was treated to a great deal of conversation about topics ranging from "I sometimes don't even know my husband anymore" to "I almost couldn't come today because I couldn't find a sitter [and my husband is a lazy hack who wouldn't watch the kids]" and "I'm getting ready to go back to work but employers are so horrible about being accommodating for mothers".

Great, right?

Yeah, so I sat silent most of the dinner. I felt as if I had no allies, especially as these women kept looking at me to pipe up and contribute, but to contribute what, exactly?

There was also the Passing of the New Baby. Just two months old, little J is adorable, with soft tufts of orange hair and a smile that could make anyone melt. She is absolutely adorable, no doubt. But thank you, I'll pass on holding her.

She was tossed from one cousin to the next, cuddled and snuggled while the women talked longingly about wanting "another one of these", missing the little cries, the little whines. "I miss this!" they all say. Luckily I was at the end of the table, so I wasn't put in the awkward position of actually having to say no when someone handed me the child, instead just passively sitting while not asking to hold the baby. I don't like holding babies, in general, for the sake of holding them. If there's a reason, if Mom needs a hand with something, I'll gladly take over, but it's not something I enjoy doing just for the sake of doing it.

So later in the evening, M was sitting opposite me with Sleeping J in her arms and asked me, "so have you guys given any thought to whether you want to do this", gesturing to the baby. She assured me she wasn't judging, just asking, and I believed her. I told her about my career aspirations, that I want to start my own business, A's finishing up school, and we're just so busy all the time, and that I just didn't see fitting a child into that routine. She nodded and said it was good that we were thinking it through, and that we should never let anyone tell us that it's a decision we should make without careful consideration. She conceded she never could have done her previous job while raising a child, and losing that part of her career was a big decision to make.

It was nice talking to her. I didn't close the door completely, but I certainly didn't lead her to believe I was changing my mind anytime soon. It felt good. I knew she would be understanding -- she's not blood. The blood of A's stepfamily is where the judgment comes in that family.

In the meantime, my future sister-in-law is ripping her gifts to shreds and breaking every ribbon she can find intentionally because she plans to get started early on a large family. She'll be a good addition to the family. They'll approve of that.

When I told my mother-in-law that A was going back to school in January, she asked me what prompted him to do so. "We have the money now," I said. "We're financially stable and he's ready." I could read in her eyes when she said "are you SURE that's the only reason? Was there any other reason that made him consider that?" that she really wanted to say "is it because you're finally coming to your senses and realizing that the husband is supposed to support "the family", and it's about time you come to your senses and stop it with these career goals that keep postponing the babies".

Am I putting words in her mouth? Only because she implies it constantly. I know she disapproves of the fact that I make more money than my husband, that she thinks a woman's place is, indeed, at home. She's said it, just not as a direct criticism to me.

I hope my words to M make their way to my mother-in-law. I hope the conversation we finally have is a confrontation, the result of a direct question, because I cannot lie. I'm done smiling and giggling uncomfortably when the subject comes up, and I have my husband's support to tell them. I just don't want to be the one to open the conversation.

Thank the Gods for One Pink Line

I just took my first pregnancy test in years.

All the signs were there. I've been inexplicably nauseaus the last few days, along with a host of other symptoms that pointed to babies. I talked to my husband and he insisted I go take the test now, even though he's at work, so I can stop feeling paranoid.

I cried -- a lot -- before I left to get the test. Never is it more clear to me that I don't want children than when I have a scare. I haven't had one in a couple years, but my god, there is nothing more terrifying to sit there watching the reference line coming in and praying to whomever will listen that the other line doesn't come up.

The IUD is as effective as a vasectomy, but it's still not 100%, and that small percentage is enough to freak me out when I'm feeling as crappy as I have been the last few days. I don't get a regular period, so there's no real way to know when I miss it. With my menstrual history I'm probably damn near infertile anyway, but I still get paranoid.

When I told my husband that I was taking the test, he reassured me, told me if it was positive it was my decision what to do and he'd support whatever I decided, which meant so much. But I was terrified, as i drove to Walgreens, as I stood in the checkout line, and I took the test and watched the pink line form in the reference area... I was more than half-sure this would be it. And I was thinking about my infertile friends, how horrible it would be if this happened to me and not them.

But it didn't. I'm okay. The IUD is effective and I've probably just got a bug.

I hope this helps me with my paranoia, knowing that these physical symptoms have nothing to do with pregnancy. I can go on normally, now. And I'm so thankful.

Law of Averages

My friend's niece was born extremely premature, like as-early-as-a-child-can-possibly-survive premature. It's been very hard for their family and they won't know until they watch her develop for awhile what the implications of this are. There is only one at this point: The child is impossibly small at 4 months old (she'd barely be born by now) and looks like an alien. I know, it's cruel, it's horrible, but she looks like little more than a foetus in clothes. She shows off the pictures of her tiny little niece and she totally creeps me out.

She already has a lot of health problems and it's likely they will continue. It's not just the likelihood of health issues either; it's even more likely that she will have developmental and mental problems.

Now, add this to the fact that my friend's sister was knocked up -- this was a very unplanned pregnancy. She and her now-husband (they wanted to "do the right thing") are incredibly young, don't have the kind of money or, quite frankly, the maturity (from the stories I've heard) to deal with this.

One of my greatest fears is having a sick child. I know it's possible to lead a fun, social life and career with a child, but what about a sick child? Something as minor and prevalent as ADHD, to something as major as Down Syndrome or worse... there goes your life. You're not even Mom anymore, you're Caregiver, in some cases stuck with a baby who is still, functionally, a baby at 30. A woman and her Down Syndrome son joined us in the elevator at my grandmother-in-law's building, and my husband and I smiled at each other and we knew why.

Our friends and family are blessed with children whose worst issues are behavioral problems (specifically, our nephew who has a sensory disorder and my cousin who has a learning disability). My husband is *obsessed* with the law of averages and is convinced that one of the next babies who comes into our life will have a major issue. Even if that is a little extreme, I know I definitely don't want to be a part of that club. It's a chance I don't want to take.

If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do that too?

The only time I wonder if I'm missing out on anything is when I watch too much daytime television. I want to stress here that it's not that I actually feel I'm missing out, it's that I *wonder* if I'm missing out. It's really the "what's wrong with me" factor.

It's odd, because I spent the entire weekend with my husband at a gaming convention, spending time with friends, meeting new ones, staying out 'til the wee hours, staring in wonder at the families with kids and wondering how they could possibly do this convention with them. Of course they experience the Con differently than we do, spending more time at the Yu-Gi-Oh! booth than with their own friends, and it was really cute to see the dads who were helping their sons with their Dungeons & Dragons games. But, as usual, the moment I get a glimmer of "I could do that", I get hit in the face with "oh my gods I could NEVER do that".

I feel fortunate that I know before making the leap that I am not equipped to handle being a mom. And I feel like I beat a dead horse on this, but I hear the women on these talk shows speak about how it's the best thing in the world to be a mom, etc etc etc, and when this happens, I ask myself "why don't I want that?"

I read and hear it implied that if I don't want children, I must be suppressing my natural instincts, that I'm fighting against a desire because I want something else. Even within the childfree community I hear about people and their surrogate children (usually pets), or finding a replacement for kids, or an alternate outlet for maternal feelings. As much as I love my cat and consider him part of our family, I don't consider him a child-replacement. There's no need for one.

I don't feel like I'm missing out on motherhood any more than I'm missing out on, say, the skydiving outing my friends are doing in a couple weeks. They can go ahead, have fun, tell me how I'm missing out on a good time; but if it's something I have no desire to do, that I fear and find unpleasant at the mere thought, then how can I be missing out on it? Sure, if you want to do something and chicken out because of fear, there might be some regret. It's not that I fear it -- it's that I don't want to do it.

Building analogies helps me understand my feelings and realize they're okay. I think when I watch daytime TV and start feeling this way it's because I'm looking at my situation and seeing it through the Mommy filter. I'm glad I have this blog to sort out my feelings. I'm much better than I was at the beginning of this post.

It's my life.

Commander Lock: Not everyone believes what you do Morpheus.
Morpheus: My beliefs do not require them to.
—The Matrix

My husband's annual family reunion brings with it a few guarantees. #1 - We will appreciate how fortunate we are that we get to enjoy the sun, the lake, and the company at his step-aunt's lake house estate. #2 - we will want, by the end of the weekend, to either gouge our own eyes out or perhaps the eyes of others if the children don't stop. Doesn't matter what, we just need them to STOP. #3 - we will experience a lecture of some sort about what we're missing out on by not having children (usually by the grandparents), while the parents tell us how the children are making them crazy and destroying their lives.

Never is it more apparent that I am not Mommy material than at the family reunion. Like last year, I see what is supposed to be a vacation transform into a rodeo, wrangling the kids, keeping them off each other, finding out who hit whom and why, locating lost toys, determining what belongs to whom and who stole whose whatever. It's exhausting to watch, and I can't imagine how it must be for the parents. Well, I sort of can, because all I hear from the moms is complaining.

I will say this. The sister-in-law who has been the main culprit in the "Stasha must have babies" campaign has mellowed, and I think she might even get it. She hasn't said anything about "when" we have kids, I must have kids, etc. in two visits now. This is a good thing.

My father-in-law, on the other hand, just loves talking about how great my husband and I are with the kids when we're playing with them. It's true -- we have a lot of fun when the kids are behaving. I was playing with our three-year-old niece and nephew and a giant frisbee sort of thing, while my 6'5" tall husband played monkey in the middle with the older kids (all between 6 and 9). It was a ton of fun, and we loved it! And when the kids started getting too rough, we said "okay, that's enough, Auntie and Uncle are tired," and sent the kids off to their parents. It was fantastic!

But it was shortlived. We left the kids to play by themselves and then came -- not the thanks for playing with them for over an hour -- the guilt. "Oh, come on, now who's going to watch them? They just beat up on each other when no one's around!" The answer? NOT OUR PROBLEM.

The worst part of the trip was the annual pontoon boat ride, always a haven for drama. At first we considered ourselves lucky that we weren't on the boat with all the children. Then we realized we were on the boat with the drunk aunts. The passive-aggressively preachy ones.

Oh, it was fabulous. We got to hear all about how kids these days think it's just fine to get married in their late 20s and not have kids until well into their 30s, when the best thing to do is just have "the kids" right away (because marriage=children). Oh, and did we ever hear it about families with only one child. It's almost as if having no children would be preferable to having only one child. WOW. Of course, as most things are in this family, everything was indirect. There were no direct questions about when we were having children, just insistence and pressure to have many and start NOW, to stop "wasting our time" with traveling and building my business. Oh, she preached and preached, made sure I knew how devastated her oldest daughter was to be single and childless at 36 (I think she's intentionally both); made sure I knew her one daughter was barren and her other, well, let's not talk about how she's wasting her life (single at 32).

To this woman, success at life equals marrying, having babies, and letting your husband make the money. We talked about our plans to travel -- Australia next year, China with friends in 2008 or 2009 -- and she just kept on about how important it was to start a family while you're young.

I wanted to scream at her "It's my life! This is what I want to do with it! We want to travel, to enjoy our vacations instead of having them feel like babysitting. We want to ride on the waverunners and swim to the deep end and not have our eyes glued to the children. It's our life. Just be happy that we're happy."

I should have screamed that, but I decided long ago that it's my husband's responsibility to decide when he wants to tell his family we're not having children. My family knows. My family is fine. This is his deal.

On Infertility

I have to wonder lately if this truly is as unusual as I think it is, or if it's the gods testing me in some way. Another friend has come to me and told me that she appreciates the childfree filter I put on my LiveJournal (my primary journal) because she is infertile. She has been trying for several years to conceive and she and her husband are beginning to look into options like foster care because they have no money to adopt.

I had no idea.

This is just one more person I am close to who has dealt with fertility and childbearing issues. Two people in my husband's close family, an aunt of mine, and now not two, but three close friends of mine had/have devastating fertility problems. This seems like a lot of people to me; either that or infertility is more common than I'd initially thought. The only common thread among them is that I feel very uncomfortable around them.

When my friend told me this weekend, I was in shock. I suspected she and her husband might be trying to conceive, but some of the issues she brought up, I had never considered. She talked about people wo talk about "just adopting", and she explained how impossible it seems, and it's even been hard for them to commit to foster care because she was a foster kid and understands that the ultimate goal for foster kids is to get them back to their birth parents. It worked for her, and she went back with her mom eventually, so she has an especially deep understanding about this. But I know it's killing her that she can't have a baby of her own.

I started to feel self-conscious that I've been trivializing the desire to have children. It's so hard because it's something I have never felt, and while I know it's not as simple as, say, a fleeting desire for a pair of shoes, it's impossible for me to understand this burning need to have children, the heartbreak of not being able to have them, to feel like you're "settling" for adoption or foster care.

I feel like I need to clarify that when I say "if we decide later that we want kids, we'll adopt", I am saying this with an understanding of what it's about, at least in that I know it's not "easy". It's not cheap, it's not painless, and it's not an easy thing. I do know this, and the adoption thing is also not a decision that my husband and I have just up and "said". When we talk about him getting a vasectomy, this is a very real thing that we discuss, even though we're confident about our decision.

But still, when the talk of babies and children comes up, when it's friends talking about their kids or talking about my childfree life, I feel instantly uncomfortable for them, wondering if they're okay with this. I know it's different for everyone. I have one friend who exuses herself from the room and bursts into tears at any mention of children, especially the children of her friends, another who is okay with it but the tension in the room becomes palpable. This latest friend I haven't quite read, but she's notoriously hard to read about EVERYTHING, and I can't imagine her getting emotional about anything.

I don't know if this is the case, but I feel as if infertile women think I'm insulting them, that my decision makes a mockery of their situation, that I run around thinking "anyone" can have babies and it's no big deal. I'm not a big subscriber to the "no big deal" mindset, although I stand by and own my statements from my Biology 101 post. Of course it's not as simple as that, especially for women who can't conceive. It's so hard to clarify my thoughts on this, because while the friend who cries as the mere thought of baby shoes is in an already bad relationship that will suffer incurably if she gets pregnant, I actually wished on a shooting star the other night my latest infertile friend would be able to conceive.

When people suggest to me that I should just pretend we are infertile, I can't think of anything more insensitive. I can't possibly mock the pain these people in my life are going through, and I certainly don't want to end up in the position of talking about my "infertility". While I suspect that if I desired to get pregnant it would be very, very difficult because I don't get a regular period (only once every few months, even a year after getting off hormonal birth control), I can't pretend that's something I'm living with. It would be disrespectful to anyone who ever truly has gone through it.

The point I intended on making in this post was "just because we can have babies does not mean we must", but I wanted to take it a step further. I believe it is a tragedy when people who desperately want to be parents cannot realize that dream. But I also believe that I have to stop feeling guilty because I don't want children. It's my own fault that I do feel guilty,

Biology 101

A major reason that my husband and I do not want children of our own is that there are far too many children in the world anyway. Schools are horrifically overcrowded, and a good education is nearly impossible to find outside of the high-income neighborhoods that having a child would preclude us from living in. Oh, wait, we could move outside the city, but our desire to be near a cultural and creative center is another aspect of the childfree life that we find appealing.

It's so interesting to me that there are so many people who "accidentally" get pregnant. Of course accidents happen, and I have several friends and acquaintances who are the victims of failed birth control. But I see television shows like Maury "Paternity Test" Povich, where these women are coming out and wondering if one of two, three, ten, twelve men are the father of their children, and I just wonder how on earth God could let them breed. It's one of those issues that truly makes me wonder how there could possibly be a God, to be honest.

All children are a blessing, a miracle, right? I don't think so. Constantly I see women with more children than they can handle, and often they can't even handle one! They have unprotected sex and the punishment for that is what? BABIES! It just seems so wrong, like God would consider a more appropriate punishment to fit the crime.

Raising a child is so difficult -- why is it that it's so easy for humans to breed? The only answer I can think of is that it's just science, biology at its most basic, not some master plan by an unseen higher power. It's unfathomable to me that this God who is supposed to be looking out for His people, would let the world become overrun with children, would take something that is supposed to be special and wonderful and make it no more magical than an accident. In a world where children are so easily produced, so frivolously produced, I just can't see children as anything but that -- as Biology 101. Even my beautiful neice was little more than an accident, and both she and my brother have been paying for that since her birth because her mother is so messed up.

Of course it's more than that, and for many couples it's a conscious choice and these kids are created intentionally and out of love. It just kills me that it's implied that I'm missing out on this miracle, when all I see that I'm missing out on is Biology 101, a reproductive process that I have no desire to be a part of. If I want kids someday, I will take in one of those frivolously created children, someone whose parents didn't think about, couldn't take care of. As long as all those children need homes, need love, need parents, I feel like they would need me more than a child that I biologically created could ever need me.

But that's the beauty of my situation. Those children need a home with people who are willing and ready to raise them. I am not that person, and neither is my husband. If our situation changes, we know there never will be a shortage of kids up for adoption. But until we are 100% ready for that step, and if our life continues to be as full and happy as it is now, we won't ever be, if we get sterilized as we want to, we don't have to worry about accidental pregnancy. It's the best freedom of choice that there could possibly be.

Blindsided

I have an acquaintance who assumed she'd probably have kids one day, but not now. Not when she was unmarried and still building her career. She assumed she would be one of those women who established herself in her field of environmental biology, got the contacts, references, and experience she needed (probably a few more years) and then strategically pick a time to have a baby. There was never a question of whether she would return to this career she'd worked so hard to get, even earning her Master's degree.

She was the last person you'd expect to see get knocked up.

Birth control fails, people. It happens. It happened to her. Sure she had recently finished a round of antibiotics, but she was done now, and it's not like she was ovulating.

She and her boyfriend talked about it, decided to get married and combine their incomes so they could raise the baby and still afford the house she had bought. It would be tight, with childcare so expensive, but they could do this. It was one baby, not that big of a deal.

And then there were two. Gorgeous twin boys. Two gorgeous twin boys. Two mouths to feed. To bottoms to diaper. Two cribs, two sleepers, two carseats, two strollers. Two gorgeous baby boys to pay someone to watch. Two boys were too much.

Her husband had an extra four years of career over hers, therefore more contacts, more experience, and a better salary. 80% of her salary went to childcare. Eighty Percent. With gas prices, the cost of commuting, and too many hours in the lab tugging at her heart strings, she decided, reluctantly to leave her job.

Of course she loves her boys, but after only a month at home with them she's losing her mind. She misses the challenges of working in the lab, working toward something, toward her dream job. This wasn't what she signed up for. She still feels that one baby they could have handled, but being blindsided by two is just too much.

And yet it's overkill to want two forms of highly effective birth control. Her story terrifies me more than anything else. Regardless of whether we want kids, one baby, sure we could manage financially, but what if the child had special needs? What if there were two? Kiss a career goodbye. Kiss all the nice things we can have goodbye, the traveling, the time with friends, with each other. No thank you. Give me a one in a million chance and then I'll stop worrying about getting pregnant.

Cold Feet

One of my dearest friends, Angie, got engaged about 6 months ago, and it was just about the happiest I've ever been for my friends. Although they were a wonderful couple, they used to always say that they didn't believe in getting married. He works for a very progressive company and gets domestic partner benefits, so there wasn't any real incentive as far as that's concerned. I wondered what would happen to them because she still had some desires to live abroad or maybe move to Chicago, and he wasn't always a part of these plans. They were "if things don't work out" plans, but when he proposed she excitedly said yes and was comfortable and happy to give up those plans.

Angie was the first person to introduce me to the word "childfree". She's the first person I was ever able to talk with about childfree issues. It has been no secret that she has no desire for children.

They've been together for over 5 years, and while early in the relationship there was some wondering what the future because of Eric's desire for kids one day, eventually Eric started coming over to the other side. She thought they had come to an understanding -- she did not want kids. There was the possibility that would change with time, but it was nothing he could bank on.

As time has passed since the engagement, however, Eric has gotten the worst case of cold feet I've ever seen. I suspect a big reason for this is that he never really did get comfortable with the idea of a childfree marriage. He wants to be a father one day, and yes, he'd make a great one, but Angie doesn't want to be a mom. She doesn't even like children. She's happy with her kittens and doesn't need or want for more.

With all of this, Angie feels betrayed and lied to because he didn't think it through before getting her hopes up. Saying yes was not an easy thing for her. It shocked us all that they would ever get married, not because we doubted their committment -- they just weren't marryin' folk. But now he's wondering if they are truly compatible for the long term, in large part because of this issue.

This is causing a huge rift that may not only end the engagement, but one of the most lovely relationships I've had the pleasure of knowing, and it's breaking my heart. I want them to be in love, I want them to get married and live happily ever after, but it makes me wonder if this is something that Angie will compromise on. She's not a compromiser, but I know she wants to spend her life with Eric. If this one issue tears them apart... I don't know, it's just making me very, very sad.

A Pretty Good Way to Stunt a Soul

…Although most of us think of heroin as a source of human misery, shooting heroin doesn't actually make people feel miserable. It makes them feel really, really good--so good, in fact, that it crowds out every other source of pleasure. Family, friends, work, play, food, sex--none can compete with the narcotic experience; hence all fall by the wayside. The analogy to children is all too clear. Even if their company were an unremitting pleasure, the fact that they require so much company means that other sources of pleasure will all but disappear. Movies, theater, parties, travel--those are just a few of the English nouns that parents of young children quickly forget how to pronounce. We believe our children are our greatest joy, and we're absolutely right. When you have one joy, it's bound to be the greatest.

Now, in David Gilbert's Time magazine essay "Does Fatherhood Make You Happy", he feels that this is part of the human experience and a rewarding one at that, if not one that generates happiness as the children are young and grow older. He suggests that to even ask the question is missing the point. But it is a valid question, and one that I think couples should consider, especially when they think a child will bring more happiness to a marriage, but so few do. (I'm thinking specifically about my friend from work, obsessed now with conceiving after her miscarriage. Even though she's in an unhappy and verbally abusive marriage, she's told me she's convinced a baby will bring them closer together.)

It's been shown in studies time and again that married couples become markedly less happy in their relationship and in general after becoming parents. It's something many folks will deny, and of course it's not 100%, but it begs the question, why do so many people have a hard time imagining that someone might prefer to do something else with their life? Why is it considered a horrific symptom of an "all about me" culture, selfish and a terrible thing to say "no" to children? When childfree folk consider kids, we would rather say no than sentence ourselves to decades of relative unhappiness just so we can say "look, I did something great with my life". Parents *are* doing something great, no doubt, but it's not a life for everyone, but parents must realize it's not the only way to have meaning in one's life.

My step-grandfather (and others) likes to joke that the affection that A and I have with each other won't last, to which I always take offense. Why won't it last? Why must one assume it can't last? For many couples, childed or otherwise, it doesn't, but I know that I want to make the best attempt at increasing my odds of happiness. Because I know that having children isn't for us, we certainly would become one of those couples who says "that won't last" every time A gets the door for me or gives me a big hug in public.

Studies reveal that most married couples start out happy and then become progressively less satisfied over the course of their lives, becoming especially disconsolate when their children are in diapers and in adolescence, and returning to their initial levels of happiness only after their children have had the decency to grow up and go away. When the popular press invented a malady called "empty-nest syndrome," it failed to mention that its primary symptom is a marked increase in smiling.

Writer Betsy Hart had a very intriguing counterpoint to the article, but couldn't seem to get her points out without a snarky -- and completely unnecessary -- comment about the childfree. The comment had nothing to do with the rest of her article, especially since Gilbert's article was not targeted toward childfree folk, and it's primary message was that "it doesn't matter, kids are a rewarding experience." Still, Hart just *had* to get her comment in there.

Web sites and books for people who choose to never have children (versus those many folks who would desperately like to have them but can't) have boomed and a new term was coined for the phenomenon in the 1990s: "childfree." Again and again, these resources celebrate people, especially married couples, who say they just want to live life on their own terms, and do what they want to do when they want to do it.

Yeah. Whoopee.

In the end, that's a pretty good way to stunt a soul.

And I ask, WTF?

I wonder what her point was. That she's a better person than me because she's a mom? That all moms are better people because they don't think it's "all about them"? That there's not enough support out there for women who desperately want babies? PLEASE. That those of us in the minority, obsessed with our "all about me" culture as she has accused, are unworthy of emotional support? When searching for childfree resources in print I had a VERY hard time and found only a small handful of books, many which had terrible reader reviews, and without the emotional support I've gotten from other childfree women that I've met online, I'd be so conflicted over this issue -- instead, I am confident we are making the right choice for our family. And we ARE a family.

It would have been such a wonderful counterpoint, too.

But then again, I don't know what I'm saying because my soul is stunted and I have no heart.

It's all about me anyway.

The Mall

My husband is a rare breed -- he loves the mall and likes going shopping, even if it's just window shopping. So maybe once a month or so, we go mall-walking, browsing the game stores, the clothing stores. We steer clear of department stores, but that's all besides the point.

This Sunday we sat in the middle of one of the mall crossroads at a coffeeshop, and we observed the families wandering about. None of the children around were being anything but kids -- no temper tantrums, just being kids, being THERE, all the time. I watched these kids all over the place and it just amazed me that there are women who look at the moms and covet their babies. But nowhere is it more fashionable to wear a child as an accessory than the mall.

Whether it was a fancy stroller or fashionable clothes, there's nowhere that children and moms are more put-together than at the mall. It's not like that at the grocery store, or even at Target, and it makes me wonder if the mall really does become a destination, a place to show off their beautiful trophies. Perhaps, if a woman will go and desire something from that world, maybe it's understandable that someone could look at that, the perfectly coiffed mom with her fashionable kids, and say "that's the life I want."

But I still don't understand.

Maybe because as a childfree person I allow myself to see past that veil of perfection. Other than the endless supply of Gap babies, there was one other pattern we noticed. 100% of the men who were there with families were visibly miserable. They carried the bags, they were the ones who had to say "no" to purchases, the carried the children who had worn themselves out by running around during what was intended to be a sitting break at the coffeeshop. After I noticed the pattern, I then tried to find a happy dad, and in this crowded mall full of families, the only happy men I saw had no children in tow. It was fascinating.

I tend to actively counter myself when I find myself focusing on the negative parts of families, so I start looking for the positives. And of course they're there. But overwhelmingly I see the things that the parents "didn't sign up for"... the touching of things that aren't supposed to be touched, the begging and pleading for the items they want want want, the uncomfortable apologies after someone wriggles away into oncoming mall traffic, causing a collision. I see the rift between mommy and daddy, who have forgotten why they decided to start a family. And I see the exhausted women trying in vain to control their kids, at their wits end and trapped.

I look at this and I wonder how people miss this. How do women look at this and say "I've always wanted to be a mom", or they look at this and want it so desperately? I truly do not understand their shock that "this wasn't what they thought it would be like" when things aren't always peachy. "What a parent is like" is all over the place. It's the hardest job in the world to raise kids at all, much less well-adjusted, well-behaved kids. Why can't these women who are living this life comprehend why someone might want to follow another path?

Misunderstood

My best friend and I had the much-needed conversation that's been put off for too long. Things were allowed to fester, and there are wounds that I'm unsure will be able to be healed. We both misunderstood each other, but while I thought when we spoke that things were resolved, the more I think about it now the more I think that our relationship has evolved past the point where we can be okay.

I lied to her about this journal, that's the main part, but that's only because... well, I'll give you an example. After a day of watching our niece, my husband and I were worn out from the day, listening to Radio Disney, taking her where she wanted to go, saying "no, that's ok, Uncle A and I really wanted to go to [X], but you want to leave, so we'll leave." We humored her with her video game, endured her constant "wanna see something cool"s. And, at the end of the day, we came to a conclusion: we like being grown-ups too much.

That phrase, "we like being grown-ups too much", left me trying to explain why of course she still likes to do grown-up things too, and yes, I know people go to clubs and whatever less when they're older, but I-- but I--

Yeah, fumbling for words to explain that what I said was not meant as an insult to Parents of the World(tm). This explaining of myself, justifying my feelings and trying to find a way to do so without someone taking offense... THIS is why I have my separate journal, where I can be me and talk about things without everyone thinking I'm attacking their lifestyle.

Yet comments like "childfree people like to think they know everything about parenting" are supposed to be accepted by me. Because clearly when we talk about bad parents we're talking about the normal child who has an occasional tantrum at the store, and the mom who's clearly trying to calm him down. I'm talking about HER children if I say that, not the parents who scold their child for crying with a smack on the back of the head, or threats of violence, or the kids who run amok without supervision. No, it's the normal kid having a normal tantrum that offends me.

I was concerned that I didn't give her enough credit when she started asking a lot of questions about A's (unscheduled, merely discussed) vasectomy, and I probably didn't. But the fact is, she doesn't like childfree people, or at least that label, "childfree", and while I have double-standards for parents and kids I know and love, she has double-standards for childfree folk and me.

The question is, is that really okay? On either side, I mean.

I don't know. I just find myself wondering if I'll ever stop feeling like I can't be myself around her. She asked me what prompted me to think that she didn't support me, and at first I wasn't sure. But I think now I know.

If she saw the things I post on this journal, as innocuous as they seem to me; if she read Childfree and Loving It!, the book that's really helping my confidence with this decision, she would be apalled to think that I agree with many of the viewpoints, that many parents are selfish martyrs that feel the simple act of reproduction should give them more rights than some poor sap who never had children. I wish she would read that book, because then she'd see how I really feel, the things I can't tell her I feel, and then she'd be able to see why I find such a disconnect between us.

I honestly believed when I got off the phone with her the other night that things were going to be okay. But I'm not sure they can be. At least not the way they were. I've known her for 7 years now, and we're both different people now. Her children have changed her, and that's not bad, it's just different. I've wanted to believe we could still be "best friends", but this isn't how best friends make each other feel. I'm guilty of changing as well, and I hate to think we fall into that category of friendships broken because one person is childfree and the other is a parent. I'm just tired of living what I feel is like a double-life -- my politically correct discussions with her, and the way I feel when I write here, when I live in *this* world.

There are many more issues than the kids, by the way, although those issues seem to be influenced by the kids as well. She wants me to be honest with her, maybe I should be. The problem is, I don't know what being honest is in this context. Because I don't really know how I feel or what the actual problem is, and there's definitely no way it can be fixed. I just think we've changed, and a lot of that comes since the birth of her second son.

I want it to be better.
I just wish I knew how to make it so, but sometimes something's so broke can't be fixed.

Tired.

It amazes me how some folks who are so openminded about alternative lifestyles, accepting the lifestyles of gay and polyamorous friends (some in polyamorous relationships themselves!), even a friend's transgendered sibling... these people would never ever confront one of their friends and tell them they were making a mistake, that they would change their mind later or regret decisions they were making for their relationships. And they certainly don't speak to friends and family who decide to have children and suggest that this desire to have a child is just a phase, that maybe they'll regret this decision.

It's been a year since I realized there was a name for what we, my husband and I, are, for our lifestyle. I've had people say I can not want kids without taking the "childfree" label, I say that's missing the point. Our lifestyle seems to be at least as scrutinized as that of the poly friends mentioned earlier, and I can't explain the power that having a label for it really has had. It's like having a health condition or something, where you have these symptoms but no one knows what it is. It may just be a minor, harmless thing, but until you know what it is, you feel like something terrible is wrong with you. Putting a label to it made me realize that I'm not alone, that this is not such a freakish condition.

I've never thought about myself as someone who leads an "alternative lifestyle", but in the last couple months since I married, I've been trying so hard to find resources to help with the "coming out" to family, to deal with the friends who say they accept my position until I announce plans for A to have a vasectomy. I wonder if those who deal with other alternative lifestyles face similar feelings.

What feelings?

Primarily, the feeling that I am so solid in this decision, but it's the disapproval of others disguised as "concern" that makes me think too much. It doesn't make me doubt myself or my convictions; it's so hard to describe how it tears me up. I just want everyone to be happy, and I want these people who judge me to understand that this is a valid lifestyle, that I'm not running away from something, we're not doing it to get revenge at parents or to make a statement. This is who we are in our marriage.

I can see those who judge me reading Nicki DeFago's book Childfree and Loving It! and telling me it's just propaganda, even though these are the same people who read liberal political books and couldn't be persuaded to read, say Ann Coulter's work. They would say it's not balanced and miss the point that it's a book to support people who make this decision. This book that's changing my outlook on my situation, the book that's really driving the point home that my experience is a universal one, that the feelings I have are real and valid, and that I'm not a part of some obscure "movement"; I'm part of something real, something that 10% of married couples choose for themselves. And most of all, that there's nothing wrong with me that I don't have the insatiable urge to reproduce.

If I had the guts to confront the people who make me feel this way, this is what I would say.

Stop telling me how concerned you are about me, that you're worried I'm getting caught up in some "movement", as if I'm being brainwashed or something. It's insulting to my intelligence that you think I would make a decision this big just to fit in with any group. Stop bringing up everything I've ever changed my mind on. ACCEPT ME. Accept that my husband and I have talked about this, and accept that this is our life. You've been able to accept your gay friends, your poly friends, and I'm sure that happens without a lecture. You don't suspect your gay male friends have feelings for your husbands just because they are gay, why should you suspect that I hate your children because I don't want them for myself? Stop being suspicious about my love for your kids, and stop assuming that I'm overcompensating when all I want to do is love them.

And when you tell me that you accept my decision, please mean it. Don't make it conditional and don't change your mind when I suggest that we might be doing something permanent. We've already said that we'd adopt if we decide we want to raise children because we don't want to bring any more children into this world. There is no "permanency" to that, so comfort yourself by saying we might change our mind and adopt. Or better yet, accept that we can be different, that you are mothers and I am not, and that's okay. It's really okay.

World Childfree Day

My husband and I decided to celebrate World Childfree Day on Sunday with a visit to Wicker Park. It started out as an outing to downtown proper, but we revised it once we got onto the train. Wicker Park is a very hipster neighborhood, filled with countless little boutiques and shops. And while those shops all seem to conform to another standard that makes me angry (no one carries over a size 16, and few go over 10-12), the neighborhood also boasts a ton of mostly childfree-by-chance independent coffeeshops and restaurants. It's not that kids aren't welcome -- they're just not around.

It was intriguing how many times yesterday we looked at each other and said "Happy Childfree Day!" We said it with almost every child (very few) who crossed our path that day, dragged behind a frustrated parent while whining "I don't wanna shop anymore!"; declaring they didn't want to walk anymore by stopping completely, motivating her mother to just pick her up (this was no small child) and carry her to the car in the parking garage; the teenager who spent the entire train ride (where we were hoping to relax -- the ride to our stop is usually quiet since it's near the end of the route) yapping on her cell phone LOUDLY.

We were just so happy to say "we won't have to deal with that". We got to enjoy our day, go where we wanted, linger in the stores we wanted to linger in, avoid the ones we didn't. When we went with my niece into the city, she got tired of walking and bored very quickly. She was completely disinterested in going into a store if she knew we couldn't afford to buy something for her. We had planned to spend the whole afternoon in the city with the reward at the end of the day being dinner at Grand Lux Cafe, but she didn't want to stay anymore, so we ended up going home and eating at the China Buffet. Instead of the day being at all about what *we* wanted to do, there was no compromise (unless we wanted to deal with a public display of "don't wanna be here") -- it revolved around her because we wanted to avoid a scene. It made me understand a bit why some parents just let their kid make a scene, but those never end up well either, because then the focus turns, more often than not, to appeasing the child and rewarding the scene. The mother who picks up her stubborn child who just won't walk the one remaining block to the car, the dad who buys his son whatever he's crying about just to make him stop crying. There's just no way around it, really.

Who wants to be in that position anyway, deciding if it's best for the child to give them what they want or to deny them and "make them stronger". Either way you face public ridicule, and I know I would constantly obsess about what would screw up my child less, how each action would affect the child in the future. Who needs that kind of stress? We don't.

So yesterday we celebrated, and I think we did the pseudo-holiday justice. We ate at a kitchy restaurant with no kid's menu and loud punk music playing, browsed too long in noisy and crowded Reckless Records, bought some artisan soaps and cleansers and chatted with the owner and her father for awhile, and sat outside a cafe eating delicious vegan zucchini bread. It was a great day and it really did serve to remind us of all we have, all that our lifestyle affords us. That's pretty special.

I never wanted to be an astronaut.

I never wanted to be an astronaut.

Sure, when I was younger, every kid wanted to be an astronaut, to do something to sort of honor the victims of the Challenger explosion that we watched on our grade-school televisions. Every girl (including myself) wanted to be Lea Thompson from the movie Space Camp, the accidental hero... every boy went through a phase of wanting to be whomever the famous male astronaut was at the time (take your pick -- they were almost all men).

Oh, if I'd wanted to I could have become an astronaut. I had the brain for science, for sure, scoring above the 98th percentile on my ACTs. But here was the thing... I never really liked science that much. It drove my teachers mad, that I could pick up and do the work if I had to, but I didn't like coming to class, didn't care to spend my time learning that sort of thing. There were better things I wanted to do with my time.

Creative things. Social things. Science just didn't fit into the life I wanted for myself.

Then there was the time commitment. So many years of college devoted to this thing that I didn't really want in the first place, yet people pressured me in high school to go into something more challenging or intellectual because I was smart. Just because I'd be great at science doesn't mean I want to spend a lifetime doing it. I wanted to do something creative, so when I graduated from high school, it was dropped.

I want to be a journalist, I said initially, then a graphic designer. I eventually got my B.A. in both and no one ever questioned it.

When I tell women what I do for a living, they never ask why I'm a graphic designer, a writer, and not an astronaut. I would've been a damn fine astronaut, but that's not the life I wanted for myself.

So why, when I tell women I'm not a mother and have no intention of becoming one, is that so different? Because, in all honesty, the reasons for both why I did not become an astronaut and why I will not become a mother are strikingly similar.

They're both not "me".

Prediction = Lobster Fondue

We are now aunts/uncles again!
A's stepbrother D and his wife M are now the proud parents of an as-yet-unnamed little girl. I so knew she was having a girl. After all she's been through (4 miscarriages and giving up on being able to have babies altogether), this baby truly is a blessing and I couldn't be more thrilled for her!!! Plus, they needed a girl in that family to balance Joy's three boys. I can't wait to hear what they name her!!

My father-in-law sounded like he had happy tears when he just called, but I couldn't talk because of my client call. I look forward to talking to him tonight and finding out all about this new little girl!!

So my lovely husband and I have a bet going… I bet that tonight will be the night that A's Dad just can't hold in his joy and asks the big question… "So, when are YOU guys having kids!" -OR- he will declare that "now it's your turn!!"

If his dad does this, I get dinner at Red Lobster on Sunday. If he does NOT, A gets to choose the destination. It's a silly bet because it's not like we have different tastes in restaurants, it's just the principle of the thing.

I guarantee it, that his dad will be so overcome with emotion that he won't be able to help himself. Yay for games!!

We'll probably just go with the standard "kids aren't even on our roadmap right now" plan (it's not a lie, we're just omitting the "or ever"…) We don't want to dilute his joy right now. I've just long suspected that the birth of M's baby would take the subject off the "taboo" list (don't want to jinx anything because it's been such a difficult pregnancy for her). Now that little baby girl is here safe and sound, though, I think it will begin. As soon as the shower it had sort of started, but I think now it starts for real.

I hope I'm wrong. Of course it's natural to ask about it; I wouldn't expect them not to. I hope they just respect that it's our business and take what we say and accept it without the pressure that his elder stepsister's already started applying. They're a family of busybodies, though, and I doubt that will happen.

Growing Tired of Disclaimers

It's been nearly a year since I first posted this and started my journal. By request, I'm posting it again. As I reread it, nothing has changed; if anything, I'm more secure in my decision, personally. The only thing that's changed is that I talk about it more… and have alienated folks because of it.

I need this to stop. The addition of the phrase "who knows, we could change our minds eventually" or "maybe in a few years we'll be ready" is beginning to make me sick. The more I say it, the more it nauseates me, because it's a lie.

We're not having children. We are comfortable with this decision. Please stop trying to convince me that I'll regret it.

This is not because:
We hate children. We don't. Yes, we have a low misbehaving tolerance, but we adore our nieces, nephews and the younglings of friends. It gives us great pride to be called Auntie and Uncle. I'm honored when people assume that, for example, my niece is my own child, because I know what a great kid she is. We love the kids in our lives. What we like even more is giving them back at the end of the hour/day/whathaveyou.

We fear losing our independence. I'd be lying if I said this was 100%, but we know that it's possible to live a fun, social life while raising kids. We have friends that do it. We know the birth of a child isn't the social death sentence that it was for our parents. The parents we know get a babysitter or have company at their house, raising their children with half a dozen honorary Aunts and Uncles. I think that's pretty special and helps create a rich environment for a child, filled with role models and, of course, enthusiastic babysitters.

My parents never had friends when my brother and I were growing up. The only time we'd have a babysitter was New Year's Eve, when my mom and dad would go out with their siblings. I know my mom loves me, my brother, and my 6-year-old niece, but she has openly told me she wishes she could hit the do-over button and find out what her life would be like without kids, without my dad. I do not take offense to this because I know it is an issue completely separate from her love for me.

We think we'd make terrible parents. On the contrary. We'd make fantastic parents. We'd read to our kids every night, and give them a life rich with social and educational experiences. We'd take them camping with us and teach them how to fish; we'd take them to historical and cultural places as well as DisneyWorld and the local playgroup. We'd learn all about disciplining our kids and sure, we'd maybe lose our tempers once in awhile, get irritated during the "why" stages, etc. but we could make it through it. We just have no desire to.

There are a thousand reasons that we are making this choice. I am leary to list these reasons, though, for fear of those with kids and the many who want kids accusing me of making generalizations. This is, after all, a public forum and I'm opening myself up to the criticism that I face constantly at work when I show disinterest in the baby stories of strangers (not the people I work closely with -- I like their stories), or when I don't want to hold the baby that's been brought in for show and tell. "SHE doesn't want kids," a co-worker will say in a tone that cannot possibly be conveyed in type but is much like an eight-year-old tattling on her classmate, opening the classmate up for immediate ridicule. The conversation inevitably shifts, usually to trying to talk me out of the decision by bringing up one of the three aforementioned points.

"It's the toughest job you'll ever love," Eddie, the man going through the nasty divorce tells me. This same man who readily admits that his marriage began going downhill upon the birth of their twins, bringing the grand total to three kids. He resents his wife for insisting on putting her career as an international flight attendant before the kids, putting him last in line for her attention and affection. After the twins were born, he tells me, she took more flights than ever and she'd be gone several days a week. It was as if, he says, she was running from their family. I don't think there are any "as ifs" about it.

"You have such nice things," said my fiancé's stepsister, Joy. "You'll have to get rid of it all when you have children." She told this to me without a hint of humor. "I can't have nice things anymore. I traded all that for my kids." Her kids are three holy hellion boys. No, I take that back. Her firstborn is actually a nice kid. It's his little brother -- the middle one -- who's the troublemaker. He gets his attention the hard way -- he breaks things, or he just screams. The third and youngest child seems to be following, of course, in the middle boy's evil little footsteps.

Is this a parenting issue? Of course it is. But when I saw Joy in this rare moment without her children, speaking openly about how exhausted she always was, how tired she was of yelling all the time, how impossible these boys are to control and how this wasn't what she signed up for when she became a mother, I feel sorry for her. When she says "I never looked past that little baby, and how beautiful having that little baby would be. I never thought it would be this much work," she's not talking me out of having children, but she is reinforcing one of the big reasons why I've made this decision: I already have a job. I love what I do. I want to keep doing it. Joy is miserable since she quit her catering career to be a stay-at-home mom because financially it was more expensive, with three children, for her to work than to stay home. Some people are wired to be stay-at-home moms and I respect and envy their temperament. Joy is not one of these women. Neither am I. But at least I know that now before jumping into having kids.

"You guys have so much fun together," says Mike, my coworker who has two children, one of whom has severe ADHD. "That's because you don't have children." He whines about how we see all the good movies yet he, a huge sci-fi buff, only this weekend finally saw Revenge of the Sith. "You two so need to have children," he says enthusiastically. "You'd be the coolest parents ever." He says this immediately after a story about how his hyperactive daughter's overcommitted schedule eliminates all time for fun in their household. This past weekend, Madeleine's ice skating instructor is on vacation, which left him a rare moment to catch the film. Usually he'll come in on Monday, exhausted, talking of the two birthday parties, flute lessons and four hours of ice-skating preliminaries that he did in one weekend. "That sounds great," I'll tell him. "We're going to have kids right now." I do this because he's the worst of them, the ones who insist I'll be the best mom ever. It used to be cute, a funny game between us and I usually don't mind that particular tactic. I'm usually flattered by it. His tone has changed, though, putting a little too much emphasis on "accidents happen!" and "you two are doing the world a disservice by not breeding" (his actual words), and so too must mine. Listen to me very carefully, Michael. THAT IS NOT WHAT WE WANT.

"I want my life back," my friend Lisa has said a number of times. She was much like me two years or so ago, upwardly mobile in her career with a clear vision of her future that didn't involve children. She was in the middle of planning her wedding when she found out she was pregnant. They moved up the wedding date so she wouldn't be showing too much on her wedding day, and eventually came a gorgeous little girl. First she was forced to give up a sales position that involved quite a bit of traveling for a local one -- one she didn't want. Determined not to let motherhood get in the way of her career, she enrolled 2-month-old Kelsey in daycare. "It's a no-win situation," she tells me. "Either I stay home and become miserable because I'm not working, or I put her in day care and I'm home all the time because she's sick." Her daughter spent the winter in a constant state of illness, going back to daycare for a day only to come home two later with another cold. She and her new husband had to cancel their delayed honeymoon because they used all their vacation time over the winter staying home for a sick little girl whom daycare wouldn't allow through the door. Lisa and her husband got sick too, a result of the lack of sleep caused by a sick, collicky baby. "I love Kelsey, I really do," she'll say. All she ever wanted was to meet the man of her dreams and marry him. "I just want to enjoy my life now, and enjoy my husband. I feel like a terrible mom and a worse wife." I don't doubt that she loves her daughter. She lights up when she talks about her, about her milestones, and when she shares her latest pictures. But Lisa might be the only parent I know who discourages me, for the sake of, at the very least, my career, from having children.

-------

I like when people tell me about their kids. I love stories about how cute they are, and I'm empathetic when the stories turn to how rough a job being a good parent is. I genuinely care about people, about their relationships and their children. It hurts my feelings when people assume we're childhaters and anti-family. When I first met my fiancé, he said he wanted four kids. Seeing how Joy's family has changed since our relationship began has been a huge motivator in changing his mind, especially hearing her talk so frankly about how hard it is, and how hard it's been on her relationship with her husband. Of course there may be three happy marriages for every one that's changed for the worse with the addition of children. Of course many of you are thrilled about the idea of starting your families or enjoying your children you already have. WE BOTH KNOW THIS.

I would love to discuss this with people. Tell me how much you love your families, tell me how happy you are and how your life has changed since you've had children -- I want to hear it. But tell me because you want to share your joy, not because you want to convince me I'm making a grave mistake. And please, for god's sake, don't ask me what I'm going to do when I'm 45 and childless and wishing I'd had kids. (this is what brought on this post). I have strong feeling I'll have no regrets.

Now I just need to practice declaring my upcoming marriage a childfree one to parents-in-law convinced that we must carry on the family name. And I need to learn to deal with the tears, and with hearing the same things I always hear: "It's the toughest job you'll ever love." Thanks, but, as a good friend is fond of saying, if I want a tough job to love, I'll join the Peace Corps.

Greed

There's a common misconception, I think, about childfree folk that it's a matter of greed. We want the big house, the big vacations and the luxury car. Speaking at least for us, that is only a small bit of the puzzle.

Of course children are expensive. I can't imagine how expensive my niece is. It's $1000 per month just to put her in private school the only option, really, because her public school friends are so far behind her. Nevermind the schools have gone WAY downhill since my brother and I were in school there. Then there's birthday presents for friends -- about $100 a month, as she goes to at least two parties per month. Clothes, special kid's food, toys, games, etc... children are expensive. Would we be able to live on one less paycheck per month, on 25% less money? Of course... if we had a smaller apartment, fewer luxuries, put less money in savings, and i'm sure we would be carrying balances on our credit cards. Of course money is a concern, but money is something we would figure out.

If we're greedy about anything, it's time. I learned while watching her that my morning started an hour before I was used to and immediately turned into work. Even at seven, she needs to be told what to do and when, in sequence. Take her to school, then it's off to work. As soon as work is done, I'd pick her up, then if her friends were not available, she'd look to me to entertain her; otherwise, I'd have to keep tabs on her anyway. That's 'til dinner. I made two dinners -- one for her, the picky eater, one for me. Then it's bathtime, booktime, bedtime, *poof* it's 9pm. At that point, if I want to keep the house clean, I'm tidying up and doing dishes 'til 10pm. Since I'm getting up at 6 with her now, I have to go to bed if I want 8 hours of sleep, but we all know that's not happening.

Now, granted, I didn't have my husband to help out, which I know he would, but where is the *us* time in that? Where is our time to be romantic, intimate, even just friendly grown-ups? Time to have a conversation by ourselves? And that was with a seven-year-old. Nevermind how it is with an infant, or a toddler, or later when she's a dramatic pre-teen, or a teenager? What happens to our marriage? Where does it go?

I understand that many people view children as a step in the evolution of a marriage, but based on what I've seen it do to my friends and family, I ask "why does it have to go there?" I see moms resenting the dads for not being around, dads working "too many hours" and not spending enough time for the family, arguments over who does more than the other. I see parents who are completely unable to talk about anything but their children, even when the kids aren't around, when they're with grown-ups, people completely unable to relate to the childless people in their company. I see sleepy, exhausted people who complain that they haven't had sex in months, haven't gone on a date or seen a grown-up movie. I see people whose vacation days are used up on sick children or sick nannies, who are depressed that all their vacations are to see far-flung family. The couples I know with children don't get to be husband and wife anymore. They're not friends, they're not lovers. They're parents, partners is a job that will last 18 years.

To that, I say "no thank you."

Oh, we could hire nannies, babysitters, but I don't want to be one of those parents who never ever spends time with their children. I don't want to be a parent at all.

I refuse to believe that my relationship with my husband will stagnate without children. I see A's Aunt & Uncle, both childfree after infertility, and they have the happiest marriage I have ever seen, after 30 years. They love their life, they travel, and yes, they do have the money for things like a vacation home and trips to Europe and luxury items… but their wealth is not why I envy them. It's their happiness, their freedom, and the fact that they are still in love.

I know couples who haven't been married a decade who aren't in love. They're unhappy, and staying together "for the kids", or they just don't talk about it at all. I don't know a single couple whose marriage has not suffered since the addition of children. Does it make them stronger? I don't know.

What I know is this: I don't want to wait 18, 20 years, 'til the kids are "finally out of the house", to experience the joy that I see A's Aunt & Uncle experiencing during their retirement years. I want to have 30 years of that happiness, that love, that intimacy. A lifetime of it.

Call that greedy. Call that selfish.
It's my life.
Don't you forget,.

Justified

I've never really wanted children.

That does not mean I haven't thought of names for kids, like any woman might. I think Aubriel (Auby) is a pretty name for a girl, Gabriel for a boy. But I don't want children.

That does not mean I haven't imagined that if A and I had a child, what color would his eyes be, if he would be tall like A or short like me, or fall somewhere in between. But I don't want children.

I'm not sure anyone believes me that I've never wanted children. Wondering "what if" is not the same thing as having the desire to change my lifestyle in the way a child would. I have never had the longing that most women seem to have; any "what ifs" have been tempered by a strong realization of what having that child would mean.
To me, living with children is completely undesirable and always has been.

Today I read someone's intriguing point… no one EVER questions a couple who chooses to have kids if they thought long and hard about it, at least not if they're in a position like A and I are -- financially stable, emotionally stable. No one asks a pregnant woman "what if you regret the decision?" When a woman says she wants to have children, no one explores the emotions behind that decision, yet I have to justify everything.

I'm tired of explaining myself.

I'm tired of trudging out every major and minor life event that I've changed my mind on. So I got divorced the first time -- it was a bad marriage, and even THEN we didn't want children. So I went through a phase during my post-divorce single years where I was coming to terms with possibly never getting married. That didn't mean I *never* wanted to get married again. I wanted to marry A VERY early into our relationship.

What's that you said? A wanted children at one time? Well, gee, I've never talked to my husband about that!

We've talked exhaustively about his motivations to change his mind, from seeing friends and family change after having kids, to the admission that he never realized before me that it could be a CHOICE. Love + Marriage = Children in his very religious upbringing. His motivations are sound -- I made sure before I agreed to even get engaged because I didn't want him to be motivated by getting back at his dad, or if he was just saying it to make me happy...

There are people who will never be comfortable with this decision. The problem is, these are people that I love. I just wish there was something I could do, that there was a way I could say "we're not having kids" and have that be the end of it. I know this is not going to be the case. I just need to vent.

…or You Could Choose to Have a Career

I've had a great deal on my mind since returning my niece to my brother (who is now entering his fourth migraine-free week, which is unbelievable). Things have been said to me, and there's a purple elephant breathing heavily into the phone every time my best friend and I talk on the phone, but of course we're ignoring it as well as we can. We need to talk about it, we need to talk about A's vasectomy, but neither of us can bring ourselves to start the debate, and I'm tired.

So today I will talk about my in-laws.

We went to lunch last weekend with my in-laws. It was my husband's step-mom's 60th birthday and it was great family-political capital to make the long drive out to Galena, IL to join them. We enjoyed browsing the shops, walked into the glass shop that the family in front of us skipped because little Timmy might break something, and had a lovely time.

When we met with the family for dinner, the three hellions were already at it. Bulky toys that had no business being at the dinner table were flying all over the place, the children fighting over whose turn it was to play with the yellow Power Ranger, and it was loud, so loud. There was a lot of baby talk due to M's very pregnant belly -- she's due any day now, and I sat silent for much of it, as the other sisters talked childbirth and bringing home baby.

After some talk about labor pain being hereditary, I guess I made a face or something, because M asked "are you worried about the pain?" "It's not that bad," said J with a smile. I laughed uncomfortably. J's husband then alluded to A's kids and mine, afterward saying "unless you choose to have careers instead," which I thought was funny. I think her husband has had me/us figured out for awhile -- maybe I leave the room too quickly when his boys are being irritating and loud, or maybe I just never talk about it and that's what did it. However, he's the only one.

I was intrigued, though, that someone recognized my main concern. I want a career -- I cannot do a career well AND raise a child well. It's not possible. After Ron's comment, A immediately launched into telling him about our business plans and made no commentary about babies. But that wasn't enough.

"When these guys have kids" became somewhat of a theme. "Until these guys have kids," we'll never appreciate how wonderful our mothers were. "Until these guys have kids," we won't understand what sacrifice means. "Until these guys have kids..." ad nauseum. To which we replied, "....."

After M's shower, I remarked that J would either get the hint or start pushing harder. Ladies and gentlemen, the pushing has begun. And I can't take much more.

And She's a Good One!

I propose that Band-Aids be no longer made ouchless or with cute cartoon characters on them. I have given my niece at least a dozen band-aids for non-existent ouches and injuries. I hated band-aids as a child because they hurt when you removed them -- A LOT. Today's band-aids fall off by themselves -- it's ridiculous. So when she just asked me (as an excuse for being out of bed after bedtime) for a band-aid, I was half-tempted to give her a grown-up band-aid, designed to stick until removal, and then they take a chunk of your arm hair and a layer of skin with them. But I didn't, because I am kind, and although I was annoyed and at my wits end after a long day, I love her and would never intentionally cause her pain, I dug around for a crappy Star Wars band-aid that will likely fall off before the end of the night.

Yes we have Star Wars band-aids. Shut up.

It has been an incredibly long day. On the way home on the El from the city this afternoon, I asked A why it felt like Sunday -- because, seriously, this day feels like it has been two.


Like any day I've spent with kids, it started out fine. She's a picky eater, but she ate a Kashi granola bar and was fine with the pancakes we made for breakfast. She was initially annoyed that I couldn't play with her and had to clean the house, but after she kept bothering me I turned it into a game and let her help, which worked out really well. She's actually a very good helper.

Lunch went well, and then it was off to the city to the Hershey Store, her destination of choice. It was, in a word, anticlimactic, but we made it fun. She bought presents for grandma and daddy, and we bought her a sweatshirt because she didn't bring the warm clothes I asked her to bring (I should have double-checked, my bad). She got grumpy, though, and didn't even want to go to American Girl Place because we wouldn't be buying her a doll, so we went immediately home. SOOOOO glad we didn't drive and pay for parking, because the initial plan was to stay and go out to dinner on Michigan Ave.

When we're in the house, she does not stop talking, and I've noticed she's very resistant to getting things for herself. Maybe it's because she's here, but she doesn't understand that sometimes people just won't be able to help her do a task that she's perfectly capable of. I think it's because my mom babies her so much. She also interrupts conversations when she's not the center of attention and can't seem to handle that one bit. This drives Uncle A a little crazy, which is understandable. "Look what I can do!" "Wanna see something cool?" It's incessant and while adorable at first, the things she considers impressive, but near the end of the day it gets really hard to inject enthusiasm in your "wows" and "that's cools". She also tells a LOT of little white lies, and gets mad when I don't humor her like my mom does. She has to learn that even little white lies aren't funny or cute -- lying isn't right.

Overall, though, she is a really good kid, and I love her to pieces. We didn't have her special toothpaste here, but instead of crying, refusing to brush her teeth, or doing a half-ass job, she fought through the minty-ness and did a nice thorough brushing of her teeth. I told her I was proud of her because I was -- most kids wouldn't have been so brave, and she DID hate that toothpaste. She was great on the train, she didn't fight when we said to hold hands, and while she got defiant a couple of times about dressing warm enough and having to wear her jacket over her pretty new hoodie, she's not a tantrum sort of girl. We're lucky for that, even if she is super picky about her food, doesn't like having to get her own Kleenex or come back into the room to pick up her own clothes. And she's adorable -- really a gorgeous kid, and again, so well-behaved. I was proud to walk around with her with everyone around assuming she was my daughter.

But after a day with an easy kid, I'm still so thankful for a little grown-up time at the end of the day with the guarantees of no interruptions. From after dinner to the first bit after putting her to bed, A and I were frustrated, exhausted, and very testy, with her and eachother. She went off with a hug and an "I love you", but A and I needed some solo time (hence the entry), which makes me kind of sad. I don't like this depressurization period, but I know we need it. With work, the drive home, or the cooking dinner is depressurization. She's like having a job that doesn't end until she goes to bed. And now I want to watch television with too much sex and poor morals, I want to stop talking in my over-enthusiastic kid voice and maybe swear a little (A says "fuckin-A!"). I want to snuggle my husband and not be concerned that we're ignoring her. Just the two of us. In silence. Sweet silence.