This is my latest venture. I've struggled for a really long time to figure out what I should write about. I have a meager history in blogging -- I'm probably most "famous" for my England blog, but that did not extend any further than my Facebook friends.
Over the past year or so, I have become more comfortable in my decision to not have children, and in turn, have become more open in talking about it. The problem is that nobody else is talking about it. I see a BuzzFeed article every now and again with yet another list of reasons to not have children, but nobody is really talking about the issue. Nobody is sharing their thoughts or their feelings or their experiences, likely because society has said that it's not okay.
I grew up in a Baptist home, and it was made clear to me that bearing children was a woman's lot in life. Thanks, Eve. So why would I want to put myself through something that I know is a punishment?
Now, before you stop reading and discount me, you should know that I was pregnant once. In November 2010, I succumbed to temptation and cheated on my lying, lazy, selfish, neglectful husband who had ignored me for 5 years. I wasn't on birth control because what was the point? I was working as a substitute teacher because I got laid off from my real teaching job (thanks, KY Legislature,) and as a part-time tutor, so I had no health insurance. I'll never forget that feeling I had when I went to the Health Department to verify the two pregnancy tests I had already taken. I was sick, scared, ashamed, and somewhat relieved because I knew this would be the way out of my crap marriage. There was one point where I actually prayed to God to take care of it. I prayed that the baby would just go away. If you've ever seen the Lifetime movie "The Preacher's Daughter," you'll kind of know what I mean. Over the next couple of months, I began to experience the cravings and sickness, but I also started spotting, and eventually thought I miscarried. Long story short, I moved out and came back home to Louisville. One night in February 2011, I had what was my actual miscarriage. If you really want to know how I knew, I'll tell you, but the details are not important or relevant to this post.
That was a turning point for me. That's the moment I began to question whether or not I would ever be a mother. Granted, that baby was not conceived in love by any means, and the miscarriage was an act of mercy, but it changed my life.
Now, I meander through my day-to-day thanking God, or the universe, or whatever you believe in, that I don't have another mouth to feed, because I simply could not do it. Not only is it a financial issue, it's a sanity issue. My dogs are enough, thank you very much. Sometimes they're just as bad as any kid.
I don't have a problem with kids, I just don't want them. I have 3 nieces who are my bundles of sunshine, and I would die for all of them, but I get to give them back at the end of the day. I get to sleep when I want, I don't have to share my food, I don't have triple the laundry, and I don't have to deal with pee, poop, and puke. I don't have to carry a diaper bag or backpack full of kid stuff that will probably get lost in transit. I can go to Wal-Mart at 3:00 in the morning if I so desire (I really don't, but you get the point.)
I do kind of freak out when kids eat, though. I watched my oldest niece choke on a pancake when she was a baby, and it scarred me for life. My family and I went to a Mexican restaurant once and I told my middle niece to "chew those beans." Yes, they were refried, and basically brown mush on a plate, but she could still choke, alright?! So of course, they get a kick out of teasing me about it. I would honestly need a valium pump if I had a kid because I'd be afraid they would choke on breastmilk. Seriously.
Alright, enough anecdotes already? Fair enough. Stay tuned for more kid-free adventures!
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