On being a child-free woman

It’s not that I don’t like kids…

Actually, scratch that.

I really don’t like kids.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure yours is perfectly lovely and poops rainbows and even makes you breakfast in bed. I’m sure to many women motherhood is the best thing about life, and I’m sure that they’re right… for them.

I’m simply sick of being expected to procreate just because I have a uterus.

Here’s my reasoning. I’m a selfish woman who desperately understands how far she can push herself. I don’t mean selfish in a bad way either. I don’t think of selfishness in a negative way; a degree of selfishness is what keeps us alive. I’d just like to recognise my own selfishness and move on to the fact that I know I could not mentally and emotionally handle children. I need a large amount of space and time for myself in order to be happy. I cannot even deal with being around my partner’s young siblings for more than a couple hours before I need to be away from them. But that isn’t inherently their fault; it’s mine. I just can already recognise that having children would push me into a depression that I probably would not be able to emerge from for years to come. As a woman with depression and who has dealt with the subject of suicide in my teen years, I don’t take this lightly.

I give so much credit to carers for children because they do something that I cannot. But I don’t emulate them. I’m more than happy being the selfish introvert that I am.

I don’t want to be judged anymore for not wanting children. I don’t want people to expect me to have children. I’ll never be ready for that sort of selflessness. I would destroy myself.


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