"Just wait. When you have your own kids, you'll understand."
"Sure, I will. I'll understand that you're mean and I will NEVER be that mean to my kids," I replied. Under my breath. From the safety of my bedroom. To no one in particular.
This exact conversation happened ad nauseam between my mom and I. During those times when I thought she was being wholly unreasonable, I would sit in my room and think about how much nicer I was going to be to MY children. Because I wasn't a mean person. And because cake was a totally valid option for dinner.
I went through my childhood assuming I'd have kids. I dreamed about living in my own version of a Barbie-house with my fabulous husband, gorgeous children, and possibly a dog. Or a pony. I hadn't made up my mind about that one. Details aside, I definitely wanted the family I didn't have.
Shortly before graduating high school, I was sitting on the couch with my then-boyfriend. He made a comment about never wanting to get married and never wanting children. Although I'd already had my suspicions, I knew in that single moment that we would have to break up. Coming from a broken home, those things were too important to me to even consider compromise.
However, as a teenager, I knew that I absolutely did not want to become Afterschool Special fodder. Birth control was a very high priority and although it meant getting my lady parts poked uncomfortably, it was a price I was eagerly willing to pay.
Edward and I met freshman year in college and our relationship was the stuff of romance novels. Passionate, unyielding, and nearly all-consuming. We agreed that a family was in our future but we needed to finish college.
Fast forward to college graduation, getting married, moving away from my home-state, getting adult jobs and having MONEY for the first time. As we were deciding how to celebrate our first anniversary, the subject of babies came up. It was the first logical time in our lives when we had the means to raise a child. However, having moved out west put us much closer to Disneyland and we decided to do that instead since I was a horrendously deprived child and had never had the pleasure of doing Disney. Our Disney trip was wonderful... riding Mr. Frog's Wild Ride during the day and watching hotel porn at night. I ran around the park riding every single ride like a 10 year old... except I got to do it with my husband. I experienced not one single pang of envy as I watched the moms kid-wrangle and face-wipe.
Again, we evaluated parenthood on the next anniversary. By this point, we had purchased a home and although we were somewhat cash poor from the move, we had a "good situation" for breeding. Nice home, stable relationship, steady jobs. And still, neither of us felt ready.
As the years passed, I started to wonder if I would ever be ready. And I started to consider the possibility of never being ready. Somewhere in our mid-20's, Edward and I both said out loud that neither of us wanted kids. Although we both enjoyed the idea of creating a person that was the combination of the two of us, neither of us wanted to be a parent.
I struggled with this. I was supposed to want to drive a mini-van and bake brownies for classroom parties. I was supposed to love the way newborn babies smell. I was supposed to want to "complete" my family. I was supposed to want to change diapers? And I was supposed to want to deal with green boogers and temper tantrums? And talk endlessly about my children and other people's children?
That's where it all started to make sense. Not having kids was a valid option. Unfortunately, society at large doesn't really agree.
Somewhat surprisingly, we never got any flak from our families about our decision. It was other people. I had started a new job and was getting to know my coworkers when one of them asked me if I had kids. I told her that we did not have children and that we had decided we didn't want kids. Ever.
She smiled, patted my shoulder condescendingly and said, "Oh, you'll change your mind." If I had a dollar for every time someone said this to me, I'd be able to buy a really nice pair of shoes. Maybe two pairs.
Apparently, it was okay to disregard my choices but not socially acceptable for me to say "Oh, I'm sorry. You probably haven't seen any recent movies then and your husband has become familiar with throwing a hot dog down a hallway" upon learning that someone had kids.
I don't begrudge people who have children. Someone's got to do it. It's a valid choice. Just as my decision not to have them is a valid choice.
Just as eating cake for dinner is STILL a valid choice.
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