I Want You To Know

Some women are not maternal. I knew from a young age I wouldn’t have kids. Whenever it cropped up, people said, without fail, like a threat, “You’ll change your mind, you’ll see.” I remember sometime in my 20’s or 30’s having a bet with a bloke in our drinking gang, about whether I’d have kids by the time I was 40. (He bet I would). I should have won a case of champagne here, but the poor bloke sadly died before we reached the deadline. 

Before this, at college in Bolton, when I was nineteen, my best friend and I made predictions, stating our wishes. I said I’d have no kids, and she wanted five! Now aged 56, I have no kids, and she has six. Isn’t it weird how right we were? How we knew so early on? Is this the norm? I have no idea; but I suppose it’s such a significant life-changing decision; is it something we know in our bones? Perhaps it bites at the core of our souls. Predestined, somehow. And many decisions can be backed out of, changed or abandoned, but kids aren’t just for Christmas, are they? Perhaps maternal instinct is as stark as sexuality? 

I never really liked kids, even as a child. As a psychology graduate, prone to analysing everything, it intrigues me why we develop our individual preferences so early on. Why did my friend, Fiona, want to be a nursery nurse, desiring such a huge and bustling family? Why did I dislike the noise, the mischief, those outbursts of boundless energy? I have a brother and sister so it’s not like I grew up in a child-free zone. Is it simply down to personality? 

Ultimately, I don’t know my reasons. Saying, “I don’t like kids,” as I’ve always done, is alienating. People frown at this, they don’t like it, but it’s probably closest to the truth. Selfishness is another element. As a young adult, people always tried to change my mind, suggesting children change you, make you selfless. But I’m also quiet. I like peace. I like being by myself, having calm, open space around my thoughts, feelings, activities. Is it that, perhaps? Children splash loudly, create lots of ripples. Every one of my relatives – before my biological clock finally stopped – challenged what I thought I wanted. Childbearing is the norm, after all. I was told I’d miss out – not being a mother – I’d regret not having kids, that my genes would die with me, I’d be bitter and alone in my old age. Maybe so. And people still seem to think childless women are anomalies, oddities or freaks of nature. Rule-breakers.

So be it.

I’m not going to criticise the 90-odd% of the population who DO have kids, but I do question how we humans deem today’s world a safe and viable spawning ground. Or why nobody seems to notice, or admit, that there are quite enough of our species on the Earth already, wreaking havoc. But that aside, I made the right decision for me, as did my husband. No regrets. It was never our path. And I do sometimes wish there were more in my camp.