Thoughts on otherhood
Navigating new ideas of family, motherhood, and everything in between
I'm actively counting down the days until I become an aunt.
And yes, ok, no-one in my family is pregnant yet, but I know it's on the horizon: We're coming to the end of that surreal period of time when we're all in our twenties and thirties, and something (society, biology, the constant reruns of Gilmore Girls) came along and asked us - who wants to have kids?? And everyone in my family raised their hands high up in the air. Except for me. Ever since, I've been working on building my image as a dependable yet eccentric wine aunt: I've picked out my aunt name (Aunty Bee). I'm learning cartomancy to seem more mysterious. I'm practicing my active listening and my sympathetic "your parents just want what's best for you"s. I'm perfecting my midnight margaritas.
I'm so goddamn excited to be an aunt.
And I'm so relieved not to be a mother.
I've spent the past two and a half decades changing my mind, flipping vaguely between kids or no kids, but in the back of my mind there was always a certain expectation. A well-worn path that lay before me. I, like most people I spoke to, seemed to assume that I would have children. Even if I was on the fence. Even if the thought sometimes caused more anxiety than joy. Don't get me wrong, there were definitely times that I saw a baby and my uterus threw a hormonal bonanza (the Met-ernal gala, if you will). But it was a widespread assumption nonetheless, and one I never truly interrogated until I was twenty-three years old, a few months deep in a new relationship, and my partner told me he didn't want to have kids. Now, I understand a few people here would have told me to cut and run (it's a fair call, no part of me would ever be motivated to change for a man), and I think a few family members still hold him personally responsible for the fact that I won't be having kids. But the truth is that in that moment, for what felt like the first time, I saw two very clear paths before me: I could end things with the guy and keep the possibility of being a mother. It would hurt in the moment, but it would have been worth it if children were something I actually wanted. Or, I could explore the definite promise of a life without children of my own. I took a long time to think it over. If I'm being honest, part of me will be sitting with the decision for the next few years, to see if it keeps feeling right. But the more I thought about it, the more excited - the more liberated - I felt by the thought of being childfree.
That excitement hasn't faded in the past two years. I'm relishing the thought of evolving into a childless cat lady, ascending to the ranks of Danni Duncan and Taylor Swift. I'm excited to go travelling instead of staying home to raise children. I'm excited to live the DINK life, to be able to put my mental health first, and always get to be my own person first rather than someone else's mum. On the other hand, the choice is confusing and often terrifying. I'm scared that I'll hit my fifties and bitterly regret my decision. I'm scared of letting my own mother down, of growing old by myself, of missing out, or dying alone.
Sometimes I feel lonely and insecure about the prospect of being childfree, but I know in a heartbeat that I would rather be childfree and have doubts than be a mother and have regrets.
And I'm so goddamn excited to be an aunt.
B.
Continue Reading:
As a 26 year old who is unsure when/if she wants to have kids, I sooo resonate! I cannot wait to play with my best friend's kids! TBH I visualize my life partners as my best friends more than a significant other. If I do have kids, my dream is to raise them with my friend's kids and we can all co-parent and be one family together!
i don't have any siblings but i know that when my close friends have kids i'll be the cool aunt to give them their first sip of alcohol. thank you for your piece <3