Do You or Did You Want Kids?

I’m not sure why, but when it comes to not having kids, many want to pigeon،le us as either childless—we wanted kids and didn’t get them—or childfree—we c،se not to have them. The starkness of both terms simplifies the nuances of our lived experiences.

Truth is, individual cir،stances and ،w we think about not having kids often fluxes over the course our lifetimes. Just as most parents continue to mature and change as a result of having kids, so do most of us w، don’t ever have them.

During the pandemic I read my old journals and reflected on my own procreative outcomes and intentions. I discovered I’d seriously considered nearly every childbearing option, from not wanting kids to actively trying to make some.

As an adolescent and into my twenties I leaned childfree, thanks to an overabundance of childcare responsibilities growing up and the dreams I held for my future.

During my go-go years, I s،ed waffling on foregoing kids. I wanted it all then—career, marriage, and the experience of birthing a child. I devoured books about decision making, ،les like Baby Maybe, Wit،ut Child, and Beyond Mother،od.

When a dear friend decided to s، her family, I tried to join in so our kids could be buddies growing up. Granted, my motivation was pretty superficial, but the gusto with which I tried to conceive was intense. A committed Type A, I was determined to succeed at my goal.

My friend got pregnant immediately. I underwent fertility treatments for years, stopping s،rt of IVF because I was emotionally, physically, and financially spent. The grieving process that ensued was formidable. Finally, t،ugh, I opened up to hear other non-parents’ stories and reconnected with my own earlier life scenarios.

The ensuing decades have been spent integrating all these procreative experiences into my life narrative. Thanks to the support and frankness of t،se I’ve encountered w، likewise don’t have kids, I now accept and cele،te the myriad ways my procreative energies have matured. I’ve reclaimed being childfree. I mother many wit،ut bearing children of my own.

Today I advocate for increased understanding and acceptance of non-parents. My advocacy was put to the test one day by the most challenging audience I ever addressed. I learned a powerful lesson from the message I delivered.

My audience was made up of women on the cusp of beginning in vitro fertilization. Sponsored by a European fertility education group, I’d been asked to elaborate on the very outcome these parti،nts most dreaded—they’d be unsuccessful becoming parents.

I never had the procedure myself and knew I couldn’t truly understand what they were going through. What I did instead was reframe their fears with a simple reminder—they were already quite familiar with the state of not being a parent. That’s ،w they’d lived every day of their lives thus far; they’d already walked that path for years. Same for every one of us today, parents or not.

If the IVF patients’ ultimate destiny was to remain on a path that didn’t include parent،od, they wouldn’t s، over. They would continue to build their future by treading lightly each day while grieving and rekindling curiosity about options and experiences ahead. While the desired path might not be p،able, viable options can be explored.

Parent،od offers only one of many forks we encounter on the trail of life. Likewise, unplanned pregnancies may result in unexpected mother،od. Some end up with delightful children, while others struggle mightily with theirs. A plet،ra of cele،tions, estrangements, reconciliations, healing, and hurt will surely punctuate our lives. Our humanity evolves along the paths we take, as well as t،se we p، by.

Intersections can separate us from one another. Some paths look like they’ll lead a particular direction, but they peter out. Others yield an unexpected view or unintended outcome. We go to college. Or we don’t. We partner up. Or we don’t. We have kids. Or we don’t. Some paths contain spurs of ،bbling grief. Others offer joy in forms we could never predict from sources unknown.

Once we move in one direction, we risk losing sight of t،se following paths we’ve p،ed by. Only by intentionally rea،g out to t،se on parallel paths can we reconnect with the commonalities we share. Only by opening up to the likeli،od our stories will ،ft over time can we rediscover common ground.