Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist

Children. Those beautiful gifts from God. We were all once children. I was once a child, you were once a child, we were both once a barely functioning baby, once an egg and a sperm that loved each other very much. 

Children’s pure innocence towards life and their perspective towards the world serve as pillars for happiness and harmony within society. Children are these innocent creatures that depend on us for guidance, and safety, and love, and nourishment. To many, children are the greatest gift of all and provide a sense of purpose. To me, it’s a hard pass. 

I’ve always been pretty dead set on my future as the cool aunt. Although, it did originally start as a decision to simply have a child via surrogacy. Learning about what pregnancy does to a woman’s body (and the lack of acknowledgement towards it) immediately turned me off to a pregnancy of my own. Being able to grow a human being inside of you is one of the most beautiful things a body can do, yet despite that, the most beautiful thing I hope my body will ever be able to do is digest all the carbs I consume. 

After a few months of floating around the surrogacy route, (as a teenager with no romantic experiences thus far) I decided that it was simply younger kids that put me off of having children, so I would adopt a teenager.

What a selfless person that would’ve made me. Teens often go forgotten in the foster system and can struggle once they are out of it. With an older child I can avoid the terrible twos, the unimpressive “Watch this!’s” from toddlers, the constant noise, and the lack of peace. But at the end of the day, it’s still a lifetime sentence. 

Well, that was quick. Turns out I’m not selfless. I can recognize that kids are cool and all and can be a blessing, but I never want to have to put someone’s needs ahead of myself. With the amount of anxiety I already get, I don’t want to have to be responsible for making sure my child knows how the world works, knows their ABC’s, doesn’t throw themselves off a cliff, doesn’t say offensive things, or understands that they will have to suffer through Junior Lifeguards simply because I had to. 

Now, I will admit, for a long time I didn’t even see the appeal of having children. So much work, and sleepless nights, and manual labor, and sharing, and cleaning, and loving, all to go unrecognized. (Sorry, Mom) Who would want to do that? 

As I gathered for Thanksgiving with my cousins whose children seem to multiply by the minute, however, I suddenly had a change of heart. Seeing my cousins, who I remember playing with when I was a child, have their own family and their own kids and being able to witness up close the immense amount of love that is simply indescribable towards their kids, had the childfree doubts come trickling in. 

Was everyone truly right all along? Were my Grandma’s pleas of “You may change your mind” actually prophecies? Is it a woman’s calling or her ill-fated destiny to be a mother? Will I ever be fulfilled if I do not have children of my own? Will I live a life long of regret if I never decide to have children? 

I then make eye contact with the youngest of the family: an adorable one year-old girl with the most adorable baby pink bow you have ever seen. Don’t I want one of those one day? Don’t I want to hold and care for a baby? And dress her up? And clean up her bodily fluids? And deal with toddler tantrums? And deal with an eventual bitchy teenage daughter? (Sorry, Mom.) And have to console her after crying over a fugly ass boy who can’t even bother to spell out “What you doing”? (Sorry, Mom.) But, what about that adorable baby pink bow? 

My dearest, dearest, three year-old cousin provided an answer to my wonders. His off-pitch, repetitive proclamations of “Mom!” while his “Mom!” was holding an adorable one year-old girl with the most adorable baby pink bow in her arms, attempting to explain a dice game to a group of twenty-plus, easily distracted family members, immediately served as cure to my baby fever and immediately made me grateful for my brother’s future children who I can graciously give back at my own leisure. 

I can recognize that children are some of the greatest blessings and that the love and bond between a mother and her children is undoubtedly one of the purest loves out there while also recognizing that having kids just isn’t for me. I already recognize how hard it is simply just being a woman, I do not want to know what it would be like being a woman with children whose many sacrifices go untold. 

Maybe one day, though, I will decide to have children, maybe I won’t. (I won’t — sorry, Grandma) But for now, I will revere the fact that I at least have the choice to have children or not, because I definitely don’t have a choice to have an 101-year-old great grandmother who will not get off my back about getting a nose job.