“You’ll regret it if you don’t have kids,” my friend’s mom warned her in her 20s. Back then, in the 50s and 60s, it was assumed that everyone would have kids after they got married. Marriage itself was a foregone conclusion.
Surprisingly for that era, my parents didn’t pressure me. The closest either of them came was my mother once saying, “I hope you have children, because it’s one of life’s most beautiful experiences.” She never brought it up again.
In the end, I didn’t have kids. I’m sure having children can indeed be one of life’s most beautiful experiences, but I have no regrets.
The decision we made was an important one
Looking back, 45 years later, on the decision that my husband Barry and I made, I think what happens after a woman decides not to have kids is crucial. In my case, despite the fact that I never experienced any pressure to have children, it took me a while to fully inhabit my new identity as a woman without biological kids.
This was partly because I never experienced a clear, decisive moment when I woke up and said to myself, “I don’t want children.” Unlike me, Barry did experience such a moment of clarity. Lucky him! Even after 15 years of marriage, I hesitated to finalize the decision.
Looking back, I’m puzzled that I never really honored my decision. While I wasn’t remorseful or even ambivalent, neither did I rejoice. I don’t mean we should’ve thrown a party, but rather, I wish now that we had done something simple to mark the transition. After all, this was a huge decision — the biggest in our married life.
I wish we had marked it with a ritual
When we got home from the hospital after Barry’s vasectomy, we lay together on a futon on our patio tiles, looking up at the clouds and not saying much. That was a good start, but in my ideal world, I would have lit a candle or looked at each other and “gassho”ed, a Buddhist term meaning to bow with hands in a prayer position to acknowledge closure, gratitude, or regret. Performing a ritual has always been a profound way for me to acknowledge a transition and move forward.
On the other hand, something that did help enormously was the unexpected gift I received from my younger sister, who loves children and already had two at the time. After I told her our news, without a moment’s hesitation, she cried, “Oh, great!” Later, she explained that it wasn’t that she didn’t want us to have kids but rather that she was delighted we’d made the decision so we could embrace the next chapter in our lives. What a difference her affirmation made.
I know several women today who are on the fence about having a child, and I can imagine how tough the decision is, especially in the complex world we’re in nowadays. If I were to give them advice, I’d say this: whatever choice you make, pay close attention to what happens before and after. Consider creating a ritual, and find someone you trust outside your relationship to help you affirm the decision you made, so you can claim it with all your heart.
