‘You Don’t Have Children? Why, Why, Why?’

Have you heard people without children called selfish? I know I have.

People make assumptions. You don’t have children because you can’t be bothered caring for them. You don’t want to spend the money or the time. You want to travel or rise in the corporate world. You’re a “career gal.” You hate kids. You’re selfish.

Most of these assumptions are wrong, and they hurt, especially if you wanted children and were not able to have them. Even if you’re childless by choice, you have your reasons, which may not be selfish at all.

We’re forever being asked to justify our situation even though it’s nobody else’s business. Maria Garcia wrote a guest post about this for the Substack “Life Without Children” and also spoke about it in a live interview with Substack author Ali Hall.

Garcia, 30, hasn’t decided yet whether or not to have children, but she was struck by a conversation with her cousin in which the cousin labeled as selfish a younger woman who said she didn’t want children. The cousin has been struggling with infertility, so the subject is a touchy one for her.

Following that conversation, Garcia came upon an Instagram post that offered “One Hundred Reasons Not to Have Children.” Some of those reasons were frivolous—so much laundry—but Garcia and Hall both agree that we shouldn’t have to justify our choices. “When “I say I just don’t want them,” Hall says, people should accept that. “We are so much more than our reproductive status.”

Garcia adds, “We complement each other in our differences. We don’t have to all do the same thing.”

I highly recommend Garcia’s article, “Motherhood, Choice, and the Endless Need for Justifications.” as well as the video you will find at the same site.

In our Childless by Marriage world, trying to justify our situation gets complicated and uncomfortable. If we’re the one who wouldn’t/couldn’t have a baby, we have our reasons but certainly don’t want to discuss them every time people discover we are not parents. And if we have chosen to stick with a partner who wouldn’t/couldn’t, we face other challenges. Why do you stay with them? He could have his vasectomy reversed. You could adopt. You would make such a good mother or father. How can you give that up?

People who assume everybody has kids may think you have buckets of money and endless freedom to live as perpetual children. That’s so not true. Kids or not, we are adults with adult responsibilities.

Do you find yourself justifying, defending, explaining, often to folks who don’t get it, who think if you REALLY wanted children, you would have them, so it must be your fault? I know I do. People are full of what we woulda coulda shoulda done, but we have to live our own lives, which may not include children.

If you Google “reasons not to have children,” you can spend all day reading the various lists, but the truth is it’s nobody’s business but your own, whether it’s a choice, a painful non-choice, or something in between. We all react based on our own biases and experiences.

Do you find people demanding to know why you don’t have children—and then telling you why you’re wrong?

Let’s talk about it in the comments.

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Are We Avoiding the Tough Childless Conversations?

My new book, a memoir titled No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, came out on Tuesday. 

Publicity is a big part of publishing a book. I have been doing interviews and podcasts, including an interview yesterday online with the marvelous Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women. I hope you will watch the recording and consider buying my book.

See what I just did? Marketing. But that’s not what I want to discuss today. Reviewers and interviewers frequently bring up my childless situation and how Fred didn’t want to have children with me. Some make him sound like a selfish person who didn’t care about me, and that’s not fair. He was terrific. But he was older and had already raised three children. At 48, he didn’t want to start again. I understand that now. 

But we didn’t talk about it nearly as much as we should have. Our June 19 Childless Elderwomen panel discussion, also led by Jody Day, was about “Courageous Conversations” and how we often shy away from discussing tough topics with family and friends. One of those conversations I dodged was the one with Fred about having children. When he said he didn’t want any more children, I said, “You don’t?” and pretty much let it go. 

I had been divorced for several years, dated some unsuitable men who would have happily impregnated me, and finally decided I would be alone forever. Then came Fred. Our love was so good I didn’t want to do anything to spoil it. He knew I had not had children. We talked about adoption. We talked about reversing his vasectomy. But when he said he didn’t want any more children, the conversation ended. 

Why didn’t I ask why? Why didn’t I insist that I have my own chance at motherhood? Why didn’t I make it a dealbreaker? Because I was afraid to lose him. Now, so many years later, I suspect that if I had insisted, he would have given in. I don’t know how we would have done it, but we would have. He paid for my master’s degree. He paid for our trip to Portugal so I could research my book. He spoiled me rotten. I know he felt bad when I grieved on Mother’s Day. But he didn’t offer to make me a mom, and I didn’t insist. 

Even if he hadn’t had a vasectomy, I don’t know if he could have gotten me pregnant. His first two kids were adopted. It took Fred and his first wife 17 years to have a surprise baby of their own. Then he rushed into a vasectomy. I should have asked a lot more about their troubles conceiving and pressed harder to find out why he didn’t want more kids. I should have asked why he spent so little time with the kids he had. He didn’t seem to want to talk about any of it, but we needed to. Maybe we would have reached the same conclusion, but I would have felt better about it. 

I also needed to have a talk with myself. I was so busy defending my childlessness to the world. We couldn’t have children. God had other plans. Maybe later. Why did I accept not having children so easily? If any man had asked me to give up my writing or my music, I would have left him. Was having children less important to me than I have always said? Why does that make me feel like I might have been faking it all these years?

I don’t think I realized what I was giving up. I was so busy with work, music, school, and homemaking. Only with the passing of years and life stages has it become clear what I missed. It’s not just babies. It’s young children, older children, teens, young adults, mature adults, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, weddings, graduations, babies, Christmas presents, family gatherings, someone to watch fireworks with on Fourth of July, someone to help me when I need help, and someone to inherit my culture and my grandmother’s china teacups. Now, 40 years after that no-kids pronouncement, I know I should have pursued it more. Everything might have been different.  

I did not have the conversations I should have had. It’s hard. Partners sometimes get angry, or clam up, or start to cry. I grew up learning to avoid conflict. As soon as the conversation got hot, I backed off. It’s a learned skill to speak our truths calmly and lovingly. 

Perhaps you could say, “I know you have said x, but I need you to understand that I feel z. I’m trying to understand what’s holding you back. Can we talk about this a little more? Maybe if we talked it through, we could reach an agreement that will make us both happy.”  Maybe sharing a bottle of wine would help ease the tension. 

What do you think? Are you avoiding difficult conversations? What would happen if you kept talking?  Have you tried? What happened? 

Let’s talk about talking about it. I look forward to your comments. 

(Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Pexels.com)

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