Why Kids?
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Last week, I wrote a post about my conversation with a friend who doesn’t want kids. I talked about how when she told me this it was like she was speaking a foreign language. One that I barely understood. No kids? Never? Never ever? No kids. Ever, she confirmed. Okay. I was a tad anxious about publishing the post because I am well aware that this kids/no kids topic is a thicket of controversy. Thankfully, my anxiety didn’t paralyze me (this time). I published. And waited (like we bloggers do) for the comments to roll in (or not roll in. Sob.) And roll in, they did. Amazing comments. Diverse voices. Strong opinions.
I was thrilled at the participation, but more than that I was thrilled at the continuum of reactions. I was heartened by the gentleness, the unanticipated diplomacy, the conspicuous open-mindedness. I was pleasantly surprised at the number of people who chimed in who: (a) are not parents; and (b) do not plan to be. Don’t get me wrong. I love parents. I am a parent. This is my world. But. These comments from members of the human species who do not have wee ones (and do not crave wee ones) underscored the fact that this blog, however young and sprightly and scattered, appeals to an audience broader than moms. Yay. This blog is not just reaching clones of Aidan! This is exactly what I want. Depth. Diversity. Grays.
But something struck me about the content of these comments. Something upset me. That something? The vast majority of those who declared that they do not want kids also stated that they are constantly asked to justify this life choice to others. I can’t imagine this. Frankly, I am quite the mainstream cliche. I went to college, then law school, then started my career, then married, then popped out a couple of (freakishly cute) kids. No one has asked me to justify my path. Ever. (Wait, not entirely true. A few people asked me to justify the whole novel writing dream. You know who you are.)
Part of me is thankful. That no one has asked me why I have made the decisions I have made because, well, I have no idea what I would say. I would stumble and bumble. If I were being honest, I would probably mutter something along the lines of: “Well, I have done these things because these are prudent things, these are things people do. I have done these things because I wanted to. Wait, yeah, I think I wanted these things because these are things people want, right?” Sad. Circular. Utterly unoriginal. Hardly compelling.
Part of me is angry. That no one ever asked. School. Career. Marriage. Parenthood. These are big things. Huge. Emotionally and financially taxing. These are major existential steps along the way. And because I chose to navigate a more “mainstream” path, no one took me by the shoulders and asked that all-important question: Why? Why do you want these things? Do you want these things?
So now I will. I will pick one relevant topic: Kids. I will ask this question of myself. Why did I want to have kids? To heed parental or societal expectations? To be less lonely? To continue a legacy? To fulfill a perceived biological destiny? To find meaning? To be a kid again? To escape a high-wattage career? To settle down? Because kids are so deliciously cute? (They are.)
Why did I want to have kids? And why do I want more? (Two, Husband.)
And now I will sit here and sweat and scramble for the answers I don’t have. Ones I’ve never needed to have.
And while I mull this over, I will ask you this same question and I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable. Like it or not, this blog is not a saccharine space where you are invited to roll around in baby pictures and cutesy stories. In this space, you are not meant to feel safe. No. Here, in this virtual classroom, my job is to shake you up, to make you think, to make you doubt what you think you know. To call on you when you’re least prepared. Here, I am going to ask questions. Hard ones. Of me. And of you.
And if you are brave, you will answer these questions. Or at least try to.
If you are a parent, why did you choose to have kids? If you would like kids someday, why?
And now, again, I will publish this. And wait. For you to say something. Anything. And while I wait for your words, I will think about this question, this important question that’s too rarely uttered, and when the time is right, I will try to answer it too.
Everyone struggles and...
I am a parent, and an older parent at that. My first was born in my mid 30s and the second, 18 months later. I wanted more children; my husband did not. It still saddens me that I didn’t have a third, even a fourth child – despite everything that raising them alone has cost. And I don’t mean financially.
I was unsure of wanting children until I was in my 30s. Before that, I didn’t think I would be a good mother, so I thought it best that I not become one, whether I ever married or not. While other women I knew who were single in their 30s were choosing to go to sperm banks to become parents, I made a conscious choice to not parent alone (ironic). Once I married, I welcomed the idea of building a large and boisterous family with the man I loved. Storybook stuff. You know.
It didn’t exactly turn out that way, but I have loved the parenting. It is beyond anything I could’ve imagined – and I know you understand that. It is about them – exploring together, growing together. I had lived enough “life” to know that self alone (school, work, travel, career) wasn’t enough for me; I wanted family. I wanted continuum that was of self and beyond self. Had I not been able to have children, I would’ve happily adopted.
Aidan,
Your post last week made me think about this very same question. Why did I want to have kids? I know it was sort of a visceral, gut-level longing. And now I have them, and can’t imagine my life without them, but, in truth, I can totally see the reasons people choose not to do this.
I don’t think it’s the thing that some people talk about, that urge to reproduce, to continue my genetic material. Nope. I know it wasn’t because I had some saccharine image of what life with kids would be like – I sort of imagined it would be, well, just as it is: noisy, confusing, wonderful, awful, full of love and shouting and throw-up and fingerpainting and questions and a love so fierce it sometimes stuns me.
I guess I’ll just credit some deep intuitive knowledge that knew I wanted this. That is a cop-out, I know, but I don’t have a better-considered answer yet.
But, thank you for pushing me to think about these things. I know that there is huge value in that!
Thank you.
i wanted kids b/c i believe that each time you hand off the baton, you should put the recipient in a best position possible to run an even better race than you did.
i wanted kids so i could share the love inside of me–to pick out my very favorite parts of who i am and what i’ve learned and put them inside someone else in hopes that they, too, would one day do the same.
i wanted kids to continue the trend of each generation becoming better than the previous one.
i wanted kids as a way to further celebrate and extol the magical love i have for my wife.
i just didn’t plan on having three at once! but after that became our reality, all the original reasons i wanted to have kids in the first place intensified immediately. i love being a husband. i love being step dad. and i love being the father of triplets. to me, they all go hand in hand.
As coincidence would have it, I had a very relevant conversation with a good friend this weekend. She said two things that were somewhat socially improper and almost entirely un-romantic:
a. She said she would be “fine” marrying her current boyfriend. This is someone who had thought out the future marriage extensively, and wasn’t implying that her relationship was mediocre. She went on to explain why she chose to use that specific word – Not “thrilled” or “elated,” but “fine.” And we talked about whether “fine” was enough, whether seeing a pretty tough marriage in one’s own parents meant she had more jaded views on marriage generally, and lots of other more complex questions.
b. My same friend said she definitely wanted kids. Why? “Because when you’re old and falling apart, your kids are the ones who take care of you.” OK, so now you are seeing that my friend is not a particularly sentimental person. But what’s really so wrong with what she said? Selfish, maybe. Unromantic, definitely.
But… It got me thinking. Because in the past year I have watched my own parents care for three aging grandparents and allow two of those grandparents to die with peace, comfort, love, and dignity. As many of you know, death is incredibly difficult on both the dying and those who love them.
I saw my mother and father work harder than I’ve ever seen either of them to make sure their parents’ needs (both emotional and physical) were met. I know you can hire people to do this, but in that one moment where my friend gave the utterly simple, non-sappy reason to have children…I gotta say… I didn’t entirely disagree with her.
What I saw my parents provide for my grandparents this year, I fully intend on providing for my own parents. And I would consider myself blessed and lucky to someday have children who may want to provide such final comfort for me.
I have read the preceding comments and don’t really think that I could add anything better. Well said, all. I just knew at the moment that I made that decision (and it was me…my husband helped in this department but ultimately he told me that it was up to me) I knew that my life really didn’t feel as complete as I thought it would. Not that I don’t love my man, becuase I do, immensely, but love multiplies as it divides and I knew that my heart had more love in it than it could possibly hold. So I let it go and I surrendered to the idea that the life I had lived and the life I thought I wanted would be completely changed, albeit for the better. Or worse. With vomit and night terrors and stinky diapers and milk stains on my blouse. But also with pride and generosity and compassion and forgiveness and more love than I would ever know what to do with. Yup. That’s why I did it as these words just flowed from my heart to your site. Thanks for the deep thoughts today Aidan. Enjoy the day! Erin
I think one change of semantics makes this a much easier question to answer. Change “kids” to “family.” I wanted a family.
Why did I want a family? Because I loved my family as a child. I loved the vacations and games and jokes and lessons learned. I loved sitting around the supper table. I loved making my parents laugh. I loved beating my sister at Candy Land (confession: I always stacked the deck…). And while my husband’s specific set of memories is different, his sentiment is the same. We loved being part of a family.
We want to be surrounded with love and laughter and fun and fellowship. And we want to provide a strong family for our own children. Sure there are heartaches and hurt feelings that sometimes come along for the ride. But the strength they build bears up under life’s biggest challenges. And feeling those pains with your family at your side makes them softer, more bearable. And it makes the joys and triumphs shine brighter.
We’re not planning to have children, and I get told – not asked if – I would change my mind. That I *had* to have kids, we’re *obligated* to have kids “because they’d be smart.” My stepfather said this during a long conversation during which he received the same response from me and varied his approach several times.
I finally just flared my nostrils, gave him the side-eye and reached for more wine.
There is an assortment of reasons why we’re (probably – never say never, right?) not going to have kids and it would take up too much space here were I to list them all. I think, honestly, it comes down to wanting to sacrifice. I hate how terrible that sounds, like I’m some kind of ass or something. We don’t come from model families and don’t have very good role models, so it’s hard not to doubt. I just don’t want to ever half-ass it. I want to pursue my Ph.D. in neuroscience, I want to travel unencumbered. I don’t want to ever find myself resenting a child like I feel I was. I felt like a burden. That has colored my life enormously.
Second, I (I don’t feel it is fair to discuss him, so I can only speak for myself) come from a long line of mental illness. *Mild* mental illness, to be sure, but depression and anxiety and a few eating disorders for good measure – that scares me. I don’t want to replicate that. I don’t ever want my kid to go through the breakdown I ended up having.
Shit. This was longer than I intended. I really love the different perspectives on this. It’s only when one side feels righteousness that it gets awful.
I don’t know if I ever made the conscious decision to have children. I never consciously realized it was an option to NOT have them. That always seemed like something done in movies by successful women CEOs and millionaire playboys. It never occurred to me that normal people wouldn’t want to be parents. (please, no offense intended to those who don’t)
I wasn’t one of those girls who fantasized about having kids of her own or getting married. I assumed it would happen one day and moved on to other, more important thoughts. I married the first guy who asked me, a man I’d met when I was 19 and would go on to date for 4 years. We were surprised when our first child made his growing presence known 8 months into our marriage. We had planned to wait, but those plans fell through. Being a mother is never easy, but I found it wasn’t too hard, either. It takes a certain amount of sacrifice, unselfishness, and ability to laugh when you want to cry.
I consciously made the decision to have our second two years later. I didn’t want them to be too far apart in age and didn’t want to be trapped in baby-world forever.
Maybe if we had thought about it we shouldn’t have had children. My husband is a high-functioning schizophrenic with chronic depression. His genes may have passed this malady on to our children and we won’t know for 20 years. But you wouldn’t believe how these children have helped him become a better person. Me, as well. A family gives him something else to focus on in the bad times, rather than feeling sorry for himself. It gives him a reason to get out of bed in the morning and go to work. As parents, we are far less selfish and more patient. We give and give to the point of exhaustion and then get up a few hours later to do it again. I feel as if my offering is worthwhile when I see the sparks of generosity and kindness in our children.
So, I offer that as another reason to have children: raising a tiny human being is the ultimate unselfishly creative act. They change you into a better person. They teach you, just with their ever-present needs, desires, and love how to be more Christ-like. There are other ways to get to this higher-plane of being, but I can’t think of a faster and purer way than being a parent.
Aha! Yes, you do ask the hard questions. I might be considered one of those people who falls on the parallel line. Why? I had one kid. Singular, no more than one. And yes, I’ve been asked why only one.
Honestly, Skye was my miracle baby. I wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids and wasn’t planning on it when I found myself pregnant with her. I enjoyed every single moment of motherhood. And I worried endlessly about her hearing. Often asking myself if it was fair to bring a child in the world who may one day become deaf. My mother had six of us and all except my younger brother eventually ended up deaf.
So that would be a hard question in itself; would someone bring a child into the world knowing the possibilities of said child having a disability? I think I could respect either argument believe it or not. If my mother had made the choice not to, I wouldn’t be here.
My daughter knows there is more than 50% chance a baby she brings into the world might be born deaf or have a hearing disability later on in life. She still wants to someday have kids knowing this.
Conscious or unconscious choice in parenthood. I think in the end whatever reason someone has a kid or chooses not to is a choice only they can make. The only judgment I would ever have is if someone had a child they neglected and didn’t want. There are way too many people out there who can’t have kids, who would gladly take them.
And that’s my take on parenting.
Incidently I get a wide range of readers on my blog too. I love the diversity of who reads me. (Hugs)Indigo
Gale makes a good point about changing “children” to “family” which does make the question easier for me to answer. I wanted a family.
I guess the simple answer to the question of why kids is love. My sister had a baby before me and I saw that love and I wanted it too. I felt no pressure from anyone, didn’t feel the need to carry on the generations, etc. Just love. The kind of love that makes me crazy for my creatures and makes my heart swell and ache for all children. I would not have gotten here by myself.
At some point in my late 20s, I felt what I would describe as a physical stirring. I became that stereotypical young woman who gazes after passing strollers and coos at babies in cafes. But never did my longing for a child of my own feel as great as when I experienced some medical issues that prevented me from getting pregnant right away. At that point in my life I hadn’t had to compromise much on the issues of time and timing. I was used to getting things when I wanted them. The idea of waiting for this momentous change to begin was painful to me, but was ultimately a critical preparation for the uncertainties I’ve experienced as a mother (now, of two small boys).
Oh, this fascinates me, because I come at it from a whole different perspective. No one has the right to ask why I’ve made the choices I’ve made, any more than they have a right to judge them or I a responsibility to justify them. They’re my choices! It’s never occurred to me to wonder why I don’t want children, any more than I wonder why I don’t want to live in Florida or work at Costco or own a dog or a house or a horse. I’ve got other things to think about, frankly, and feel no compulsion to justify that either. Nor would it occur to me to ask someone else why they do want kids, or why they want to get married or drive a Volvo or drink whole milk or run in Nikes and not Asics. Those are their choices and preferences, not mine, and they’re welcome to them. When I announced that I was moving to New York a couple of years ago, people kept asking why, as if I were forcing them to come along, or asking for their opinion — the question made no sense to me then and still doesn’t, and I could only answer, “Because…I want to live in New York?” I never said, “Why do you want to stay here?” Who knows? We make different choices because we’re different people; my life experiences aren’t identical to anyone’s, not even someone whose blood I share and grew up in the same house with. There are so many different paths open to us; why presume that we all want the same things from life, or that we make like choices for the same reasons or that we even experience the same things in the same way?
(Ugh, did I just sound preachy and dogmatic? That happens sometimes, but it’s not intentional. And thank you for the opportunity to think out loud.)
A hard question this is indeed!
I never loved babies. Never cooed at babies. Didn’t want to hold babies. Babies made me nervous and uncomfortable. And honestly, they still do, except mine. I think I started wanting a baby after 4 years of marriage because I felt like it was the right next step. I wasn’t craving a baby but knew I’d enjoy sharing myself with one. NEVER in my wildest dreams did I think I’d fall so head over heels in love with that little girl and not want to separate myself for one second of any day from her. My career that I had worked so hard to get to where I was… became secondary. I still can’t believe it. I ALWAYS thought (KNEW) I’d climb the corporate ladder and then go home to baby as my next priority. Now? Career? What career? When it was time to think about #2 I was SO SURE this was what I was meant to do. Be a mom. I was good at it. I did it with passion. Every ounce of me adored what I was doing. So really, it wasn’t until planning #2 that I knew it was my calling. I didn’t have a ticking biological clock (or it was broken). I hadn’t been dreaming of this fairytale family for my whole life. I did it, because something in me knew I should, but I probably could have easily swayed the other way. Thank god I didn’t!
A tad more than ten years ago, I exercised my ‘right’ to uninformed baby-making. Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong spouse. She is beautiful. Talented. Full of wise-assery and cuteness, and the fact remains: I had no clue what I was getting into.
Now, many years later and happily married to a wonderful and intelligent man… I wrestled with the conundrum of adding to our family. After much thoughtful consideration, we decided that the responsible decision was to abstain from bringing any more children into the world. Regardless of how happy, healthy and wonderfully welcoming our home is. Regardless of what anyone else thinks or does.
We made an informed choice, then backed it up with a definitive surgery. Case closed.
My last word on the matter, said in all seriousness to my own sister, is this: if you aren’t actively planning your future, your future will plan YOU. I refuse to have a whoops-I-accidentally-got-pregnant-in-my-thirties moment after we made the only fiscally and emotionally responsible choice possible.
I don’t have kids yet, but I definitely want to have kids in the future. One of the main reasons is that I don’t think you can fully experience life until you have kids. Until you live for someone else. Until you have someone that comes from you.
I actually think phrasing the question “Why do I want kids?” is subliminally different from asking “Why do I want to be a parent?”
As a teacher, I have kids. And I love them. All of them. Even the ones who drive me mad and the ones who I am often more than to dismiss to their parents/nannies/family after class. I normally dislike generalizations but I can honestly say that I like children — all children.
But why do I want to be a parent? Not just a teacher/aunt/cousin/friend etc. I want to be a mom. More than anything else in the world, I want to be a mom. I can’t explain in words why, because it’s so deeply instinctual.
So, how do I become a clone of Aidan? It sounds nice.
Why did I want kids? It just seemed natural, I had a happy childhood, wonderful friends, and bringing lives into this world just seemed like the natural thing to do, and what a privilege it is too!
Why do I want more? I only have one, a little daughter, and her beautiful smile and the fun we have and the joy she gives is just so worth it.
Wow. I’m not sure I can add much to what the other commenters said. But, I do like what Gail had to say. Family..family is what I wanted. I grew up in a family that was somewhat distant. The funny thing is, I was never the teen that babysat, or even was remotely good with babies. Then I had one…and my instinct kicked in, the love overflowed and I just knew that the love I had inside me and the family I envisioned was right before my eyes.
Thank you! I would now go on this blog every day!
Dolly
Sorry I’m a bit late on this, but I do have an answer. (Whew.) I didn’t even review the comments already posted b/c I did not want to be like “Oh yeah…that reason, too.”
BEFORE we had kids, Hubby and I sat down (many times) and talked (A LOT) about kids. We had a good life. We had a GOOD relationship. We liked to travel and play, a lot and often. So we needed to be really really clear on this, because we both knew (as much as you can know before you have them) what we were getting into. So…why did we have kids?
~I, personally, wanted to know what it was to be pregnant, to give birth to a child, to be a Mom.
~We wanted to make something out of this love affair we had stumbled into. We wanted something to BE because of US. Because, fortunately, the US is really, really great.
~We wanted to see a little person who was part him, part me.
~We wanted to see if we could really parent the way we thought other people should be parenting.
Those were our reasons. And in spite of many struggles to have our first son, and how desperately we wanted him, we still found it all to be quite a shock. We still sometimes ask ourselves: “Why did we do this again??” Although no regrets, b/c both of our kids were very conscious mutual decisions, parenthood is not easy. I hate when people make it sound like it’s not okay when someone decides it’s not for them. I applaud those people, because they had the guts to bow out of something that you must be fully present for. And I agree with you…what a great point you make…Why don’t people question us?
Well, I think you kind of missed a big point here: when your childless/childfree respondents said that they are constantly asked to justify their choices, I doubt that they were referring to such kindly phrases questions such as you are asking. I mean come on, there is nothing parents like more than to gush philosophically about why they had kids, how important it is, how good it makes them feel, how cute their kids are, how wonderful their turds are, etc.
What your childless respondents were actually talking about was something quite different: being attacked. Confronting constant demands that they *justify* themselves. These demands usually have an attack quality which presumes that not having children is somehow a judement of people who do have children, and in which the underlying question is “What is wrong with you?”
Very different. The reason you are not challenged like this is because frankly you are doing everything you are supposed to do. It happens to be what you want, which is fine, but what you outlined is the basic formula for what all good ivy leagers are supposed to do. College, law school (never an MFA!), heterosexual marriage, home ownership, cute non-handicapped in-wedlock children who will also go to ivy league colleges, etc.
So parents, Let’s take a different spin on this: Google Nina Paley’s video The Stork, watch it, and then please pretend you are standing before a self-appointed and very smug judge who demands that you JUSTIFY what you are doing to this planet.
(This reply is meant to provoke and stir up the complacent pot a bit– please don’t attack me– I actually do have kids).
I’ve always loved babies, and they have always loved me. I was told I was a “natural.” Yet I really hesitated when it came to having kids.
I didn’t want to have kids because:
1) I wasn’t sure I loved my husband enough to stay with him for the “sake of the kids.”
2) I did not want another human being to ever experience the kind of angst and unhappiness that I did.
3) I didn’t want my gym time and warm weather vacations infringed upon.
4) I thought it more socially responsible and ecologically conscious to not have kids.
5. I thought I simply could not handle it if my kid was autistic or had some serious malady.
I eventually did have a kid because:
1)I want someone to take care of me and keep my company when I’m old.
2) I wanted to experience pregnancy and birth.
3) I wanted to be able to justify why my life was not more adventurous.
4) I was tired of “putting down” elderly dogs.
5) I didn’t want to wake up wracked with regret twenty years from now.
Some good reasons, some bad.
I have a fantastic two-year old now. Being pregnant was the most bizarre and important experience of my life. Having a baby took me out of “my own head.” In other words, I am too harried and tired to dwell on my existential angst, or to ruminate on all the choices I should have made. The organizing principle of my life now is “need.”
I am horrified at how much my son adores me. I am his life. It is daunting. I pine for my gym time. I pine for the freedom to nap at will. I pine for his happiness, because if he grows up to be seriously unhappy, I simply will not be able to bear it.