Le maudit Mo D.

not kidding

Every once in a while, when I tell people that Bob and I do not plan to have children, they don't believe me. When these self-appointed representatives for species renewal learn that I have made this decision for myself, I often get asked, then pressed harder, and find that no matter what compelling reasons I have for this decision that we decided on years ago, they remain unbelievable to certain well-meaning people. I would think that that people who have known me for years and who are aware of certain invasive medical procedures might assume that this matter is settled, but every once and again, I get the whole, "are you sure?" routine. So in the interest of defending my right to not procreate, here are some of my personal reasons why there will be no junior Mos and Bobs:

1) CHEST HOLE. As the daughter of a woman whose mother died when she was a baby and a person who has lost a parent herself, the very idea that I should risk death to bring another person into the world who I may or may not live to raise is a recipe for adding another sad, fucked-up person to the planet. I can barely breathe as it is and my aorta is already enlarged and compromised. Even if I didn't die, I'd end up in the hospital for most of the third trimester and who knows what kind of shape I'd be in after. My body is not equipped to handle childbirth. I accept this. But it is almost insulting to be questioned about it, like I don't know my own body or that childbirth is such a transcendent experience it would be worth dying for or creating an orphan.

Also, as a Marfan patient, I'm not really scheduled to live much past my 50s. I could live longer--who knows? But as I still, daily, wrestle emotionally with my father's death 16 years after the fact, the idea of dying before my child was grown is too much for me to risk or bear. So I won't do it.

2) NO ADOPTION. "But what about adoption?" How about I don't want to raise a child? How about I've seen what a fucking boring, exhausting enterprise it is and I don't wanna? I feel a tiny little bit guilt over this, as I have the time and means to give a little person a nice life. But I'm not much for self-sacrifice, I never want to set foot in a Toys R Us, and I know it would break my heart to hear a child that I raised and sacrificed for throw "you're not my real mom" in my face. This may be considered selfish, but I understand my limitations. Also, there are certain facts about me and Bob that makes us unattractive potential adoptees to certain persons who believe that people who believe in invisible sky gods make better parents than folks who don't.

3) SO I SHOULD GET A DIVORCE? Bob is one of those dudes that so did not want kids that he got a vasectomy to prevent any oopsidental children from coming into the world. Now, getting a vasectomy without having any kids is sort of like converting to Judaism. You go to the doctor, state your case, and they tell you no. Then you have to go back two or three times and ask again and convince the doctor that you really, really want to do this. Then they make you wait. Then you have to sign something that says you won't sue the doctor if you change your mind. This level of determination and a preference to let a surgeon cut your balls open* rather than sire a child should indicate a level of seriousness about not having kids. In the event that I should have a massive change of heart on this, I've been told that I can take a hike.

3a) NO SINGLE MOTHERHOOD. I grew up without a dad. The idea of not having a willing, enthusiastic partner in child-rearing is not one I'm okay with. Knowing that nothing in life is permanent, and that any mother is a potential single mother, I cannot in good conscience become a mother who may in fact face single motherhood. And, oh yeah: I don't want kids.

4) THAT HIGH IQ THING. I really can't deal with anyone who doesn't speak the King's English and cannot be reasoned with. I'm pretty much incapable of dumbing down for anyone. That said, anything kid-oriented (entertainment especially) I loathe deeply. Having to shell out for some dumb plastic Disney shit and then sit through some awful cheeseball animated movie for my kids makes me want to scream. I'd rather die alone. Seriously.

5) MY FAMILY SUCKS. One thing I've noticed about the gung-ho procreators is that many of them come from nice, supportive nuclear families and were nurtured and loved and had happy childhoods. I had no such experience and am well-aware that in the present, I lack the infrastructure to provide such an environment for my child. My own mother has told me that if I choose to have a child, she will be nothing more than grandma in name and checkbook only and that I should not expect for her to sacrifice a moment of her time for my kid. So with that, I'm supposed to raise a kid with no help? A kid with crazy alcoholics/murderers/personality disordered persons in her genetic line? What?

6) STEPPARENTING MUST FOREVER REMAIN SOMETHING THAT OTHER PEOPLE DO WHILE I STAY HOME AND FEEL SMUG ABOUT WHAT A BULLSHIT ENTERPRISE IT IS. I have a hard time with the idea that stepfamilies can be happy and loving and am unwilling to ever give that a try. I had such a shitty experience with that that if I am ever single and I start dating a guy with kids, he's going to know from the get-go that we can have dinner and fuck, but I want nothing to do with his kids, ever, and there will be no marriage or cohabitation until they're out of college. This would probably kill that relationship, but I'd have to be fine with that. I especially do not wish to be expected to use my money to make some dude's child support payments. Fuck. That.

7) MATERNAL WHAT? When my BFF had a miscarriage, she cried for months. When she found out she couldn't have a second child, she was inconsolable and still is. She has always had a visceral, hard-core desire to be a mother, such that she cannot imagine life without a child and has suffered greatly when things have not gone her way with all of that. The fact that I have never so much shed a tear over any of this is an indicator to me that whatever biological imperatives I may have had are broken.

8) PLEASE JUDGE ME. Wow. Even though I know this manifesto is going to get me some swift judgment from certain parties, I can only imagine the type of judgment that is saved for mothers. There's always some asshat who likes to interfere and let women know when they feel their parenting skills are suboptimal. One false move and the accusations of being a shitty mother start flying.

Seriously, I get a lot of shit/rejection from being a writer, but a weak passage in a novel is nothing compared to the insinuation that I'm fucking up a child or putting one in harm's way. This is a feminist issue, this idea that one can tell a mother what she's doing wrong to her face with impunity. I really hate that.

9) I KNOW I'M MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING and I feel bad that I'm not contributing to the future of liberal/educated/awesome society (I have plenty of friends who are doing this important work and I salute them) but the fact that I'm in ill health, married to a man who chose the scalpel, don't really like kids, and come from a family of raving assholes whose lineage needs to die for the sake of humanity, I know I'm making the right decision here.

*It's actually a pretty low-pain procedure. Bob reported sore nuts for about five days and then he felt fine after that.

Posted by Zerd at July 3, 2008 03:32 PM