Reproductive Repercussions

It’s happened already. “When are you going to have kids?”

Thank god I didn’t hear that from my mother...years ago she promised me and my sister that she would never pressure us, “When are you going to give me grandchildren?” No, these erstwhile population boosters were random customers, an otherwise nice-looking couple, probably in their forties, who visited my workplace a year or so ago. They were actually rather low-class; for starters, they assumed that I was sixteen, and asked why I wasn’t married yet (!!!). Baffled, I replied that I was only 19 and thought myself too young to marry (at my current maturity level, at least), and that I didn’t really like children and didn’t want any.

You would have thought that I had pulled out Shirley Temple and started beating her to death on the spot. They took great offense to my lack of willingness to reproduce, and launched into a long lecture, which I don’t remember very well (hey, it WAS over a year ago) about how it was necessary for my own personal happiness that I start turning out assembly-line children as quickly as possible. I smiled thinly, and replied something to the effect that I didn’t think, since I would not be happy with children, the children would be very happy with me. The lady then gave me a condescending smile and said, “You’ll change your mind in a few years.” Granted, I don’t intend on going so far as to get a hysterectomy or a tubal ligation, but I don’t need complete strangers telling me that I ought to make massive life-altering decisions for the sake of societal well-being or some warped 1950s ideal. I think that’s far more selfish than not having children.

I’ve stated fairly frequently on this site that I dislike children. Well, perhaps I should clarify. I dislike MOST small children. On occasion I will run into a small child that I actually enjoy. I have decided preference in my tastes: I prefer young girls, aged approximately five to eleven, who have not had any sort of regimen or prejudices drilled into them at a tender age, with an above-average vocabulary. Boys tend to be overly rambunctious (Mom has stated to me and my sister time and time again, “I’m so glad you two weren’t boys.”), and anything over eleven is already being influenced, sponge-like, by their omnipresent peers and have a mouthy attitude. I know what I was like at thirteen on up; I wouldn’t want to have been around me. Despite these select tastes, there are some kids I actually like. However, I do know for a fact that it would be a terrible idea for me to actually go into carrying and raising a child myself.

1. The ordeal of pregnancy. I do not want to ever ever ever become pregnant. I have read medical textbooks on what happens during a pregnancy, and it is basically the biological equivalent of being slowly turned inside out over a period of nine months, then having the situation reversed in a matter of hours or (if things go wrong) days. I am not a fan of pain, and don’t even talk to me about C-sections...my mother was accidently conscious and lucid during hers for a few minutes, although unable to communicate to the doctors. They finally caught on to what was going on, but I do not ever want to go through that.

2. My personal health. I’m a short, thin, pale person with a history of medical difficulties. Should I be masochistic enough to submit to impregnation, I have my doubts that I could successfully carry a healthy child to term. I’m very small boned, with a narrow waistline, and I still have a slightly iffy heart. This would make the procedure extra fun. If I do ever decide to raise children, I would want to adopt, which leads me to:

3. The expense of raising a child. Barring adoption fees alone, it typically costs (if I remember correctly) about ten thousand dollars a year per child. And I’m not even getting into college tuition. There is no way that my current state of employment could support such an overwhelming financial drain. Right off the bat, there are hospital fees and vaccinations, and then you have to provide furniture, clothing, special food, toys, and nine million other things that are absolutely essential to raising a healthy child. I just couldn’t do it.

4. I don’t like infants. I find them annoying, messy, and all-around irritating. They have no verbal skills, motor control, cognitive ability, or (in my eyes) redeeming value. They smell awful...I don’t care what people say about baby smell...even dogs smell better. I’d rather be in a house with twenty dogs in heat than be around a single human infant. I have no problem with animal odors and by-products, but humans repell me. And I know that I’d have to go through the annoying thankless infant phase before I got to the fun communicative child phase. I don’t think my sanity could take it.

5. I have poor impulse control. As a result, occasionally my irritation expresses itself in a violent manner. I have very rarely hit people over this...when I get that way, I have the sense to walk away from the situation until I’ve calmed down. However, I’m not sure if I would be able to properly restrain myself in a situation involving a crying or otherwise agitated child, especially when it would be up to me to resolve the situation. I’d be afraid of putting the child in danger.

6. I'm not entirely of a maternal mindset. I have only a certain amount of patience inside of me, and an exceedingly poor attention span. I would not trust myself to sufficiently meet the needs of a child, let alone give it a healthy, well-rounded upbringing. More likely, I would not be interested in it, or fail to “bond” properly, and it would become emotionally malnourished and grow up neurotic. While I dislike children, I have enough sympathy for my fellow human beings to find this idea unsavory at best.

7. Overpopulation. I think that overpopulation is a very serious issue, and I would not want to contribute to it. Again, I would rather turn to adoption than actually giving birth to a child.

8. The need for security. I would want to be absolutely assured that I would have a financially responsible, mentally and emotionally stable, committed partner to assist me in the raising of a child. While I would not give up my childhood situation for anything in the world, single parenthood sucks. It’s a burden on the sole caregiver, especially if there are multiple children involved. Having grown up watching my own extremely frazzled mother try to give me and my sister an enriching childhood plus finish her own schooling plus make ends meet and worry constantly about bills and alimony from my deadbeat father, I would definately put some sort of alimony clause in any marriage agreement, just in case.

9. Lack of choice in end product. I mentioned earlier that I like some small children. This alone has made me pause and consider rearing my own flock of miniature humanoids. However, the problem is I only like select small children, at certain ages and with certain personality types. In raising my own child, adopted or no, I would not have the choice of selecting its personality, and I would have to endure every stage of development as they occured. This would likely make me very resentful--“Why isn’t he/she what I expected?”--and will therefore breed resentment in my own children for failing to live up to my expectations (Many classic novels contain this theme, and I’m not stupid; I know what I’d be getting into).