That's Okay, You Still Have Time: The Microaggressions Women Who Aren't Mothers Face

I’ve said it over and over in the last ten years of my life. I said it to people I met at parties. I said it to someone's grandma at a wedding rehearsal dinner. I said it to my closest friends and to a group of people at work. I said it to my husband a few weeks into dating. It's not that I proclaim this from the mountaintops, or that I rub it in people's faces, but it comes up, often.

I’m not having kids.

People are curious, and if I'm just meeting them and they find out that I'm married, it's a frequent followup question. I have a hunch that my husband doesn't get asked about our decision to not have kids nearly as much as I do. My guess: sexism and assumed gender roles, but that's a different article.

The thing is, I've never really wanted kids. My reasons are numerous, varied, and have shifted over the last decade. Growing up, many of my friends dreamed of becoming mothers. It was never something I wanted. I wanted to be an actress, a doctor, an architect, an interior designer, a life coach, a teacher, and someone who was strong, emotionally competent, a good listener, and a go-getter.

My identity has never been wrapped up in being a parent, which is confusing for some people, because I'm good with kids. As a teacher, I spend my days showing kids how to tie their shoes, write coherent sentences, exhibit compassion toward others, and generally function as a human. Babies are naturally cute, even if they look like little aliens. Kids are generally sweet, even if they say exactly what they are thinking. For example, "You should really get a manicure soon," or "Your jacket makes my eyes hurt."

Teens are a little weird -- I don't always get them -- but they are fearless and I admire that.

Folks have trouble understanding that I don't want to do something I would potentially be good at, like raising children.

The Midwest is a weird place, full of unspoken tension, condescension, judgment, and an aversion to folks who don't conform. But it is also a place where people usually mean well. In the Deep North, when a woman is old enough to go to college, has graduated, is married, in a committed relationship, or generally appears to have her shit together, people assume that she is somewhere on the path to having children -- even if it's just hoping to have some one day. These societal markers are viewed as signals of the natural order leading to children, as though they have little value on their own.

People ask me about my plans for having children all the time, as if they are supposed to, considering I’ve been married for over a year. They ask about it as casually as they would ask if I take cream in my coffee. On the one hand, it’s an easy conversation starter that doesn’t require thinking deeply about what you and the other person have in common. On the other hand, it can be incredibly personal; it may bring up issues of infertility, medical limitations, economic barriers, or changing relationship dynamics.

Despite the rising number of couples deciding not to have children, it's still hard to explain all the reasons you don't want to be a mother. I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation or details as to my decision, but I struggle to find a balance between communicating with the people in my life and preserving my privacy and emotional wellbeing. Not every person gets to know every reason, and I think that's okay.

If you’re a woman of childbearing age and exploring a nontraditional path, perhaps you can relate to these exchanges:

FRIEND: So, when are you having kids?

ME: Oh, we're not going to have kids.

FRIEND: That's okay. You still have time.

ME: My mind hasn't changed in ten years, so I doubt it will change in the next ten.

The assumption that others know what I will want or need in the future is misguided. My age alone does not make me indecisive or overly susceptible to a sudden change of heart. It is unlikely that the world will suddenly become a different place, one in which I would want to raise a child.

FRIEND: I miss the part of my life without kids when I could travel freely. Those are moments to cherish.

ME: I agree. There's so much freedom and possibility without the responsibility of children. I’ve certainly considered that.

I appreciate folks who forthright acknowledge women’s reasons to not have children without prying or shaming them into details. I want to travel with my husband, vacation for an entire month every few years, and buy light-colored furniture that won't get syrup spilled on it. We can go on a weekend getaway without worrying about not having enough money to pay for our kid's jerseys or school dance tickets. At times, I wonder if some women have a little part of them that wishes they didn’t have kids.

FRIEND: How does your husband feel about that?

ME: I am the one who would have to carry the child, so it's not his decision if I'm unwilling to grow a human inside of me. We talked about it at length prior to and during premarital counseling. During this process, he recognized that the reason why he thought he wanted children his whole life had more to do with imposed societal expectations to become a parent rather than his own desire. With some thought, he concluded that he had more to contribute to the world if he wasn't a parent and that was something he wanted. It is worth mentioning: he could have stopped dating me, but he didn't. Right now, we are on the same page, but we check in with each other regularly to see if either one of us is shifting toward wanting kids.

FRIEND: But you two would be such great parents!

ME: Thank you, I agree, but being good at something doesn't mean you have to do it.

I listen to my friends and family regularly stress and worry about their children and whether they are doing the right things as a parent. I sympathize with their feelings and know I would be the same way. I don’t want to live my life burdened by the responsibility of shaping, caring for, and raising another person. We would be bomb parents. We are the type who use any excuse to celebrate, make the ordinary into a special occasion, and are all-around fun-loving people. My husband and I have great communication skills; we navigate conflict well and are great at anticipating the other's needs. I don't want any of that to change by introducing a child into our dynamic. Simply put, I don't want to be a mom, and people who are moms should want to be moms.

FRIEND: It's different with your own kids.

ME: You're probably right. But I don't want my own kids. I want to be the fun “faux” aunt to my friends' kids and the aunt and uncle who can visit Wisconsin on a whim to cheer on our niece or nephew at their Lego robot competition. I want to be the couple that can take the kids for a night or weekend so our friends can get some time to poop in peace, clean the house for real, or enjoy a romantic weekend in a cabin.

Obviously, if I had them, I would love my own kids more than anything. My capacity to love should not be the reason to bring another human into this world. I love my own plants more than the gorgeous plants at the farm-to-table restaurant down the block. I know I would love my own children more than my students, and would deal with their whining and tantrums a lot more patiently. I love anything that is mine more than anything that is not mine. This doesn’t mean I should have kids.

FRIEND: Parenting is the most rewarding thing ever. How could you not want that?

ME: Just because parenting is rewarding for you doesn't mean that it will be rewarding for me. I think I'd be really stressed, and ultimately, forced to sacrifice in other areas of my life, such as time for myself, job, marriage, or friendships.

I struggle to keep all the plates spinning as it is. I have very high expectations of myself, and I'm working on being more gracious with that. I think I would be devastated with every failure that inevitably comes with parenthood. The juxtaposition of unavoidable shortcomings and the tremendous love for my child would be exhausting for me. I don't want to put myself through that emotionally.

Although I won’t be having kids, I am grateful for all the parents who choose to. Raising children in this time is unpredictable, challenging, and expensive, but also incredibly important for our future. I’m fortunate for the people in my life that are understanding and nonjudgmental about my decision to not have kids. Despite what society dictates about when and how to have a family, it is essential for women to consider their own wants and needs. For those in my life with children, I’m happy to to take your kids for the day so you can nap all you want. For my childless friends, let’s take advantage of our freedom and plan an adults-only cruise. Whether you decide to become a parent or not, I’m here for you, and I hope you’ll be here to respect and support me.

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Melissa is a late 20-something living in Minneapolis with her partner, Mike, and their Netflix account. She is an English language teacher by day and stylist, event planner, amateur florist, and podcaster by night. Melissa believes in the simplicity of a raised glazed doughnut, the value of an honest friend, and the satisfaction of a snarky comeback. You can find Melissa on Instagram: @mulberrymelissa or on her blog: mulberrymusings.com.