04.02.26
I keep finding myself at this crossroads, looking down 2 very different paths, and trying to be honest with myself about which one feels like mine…

For generations, society had treated having children as the default path. Almost like an unwritten rule everyone is expected to follow. We’ve built this narrative that settling down and starting a family is inevitable, even though that isn’t true for everyone. There’s a firm belief that a family isn’t “complete” without having children. If you choose not to have them, you’re labeled as selfish, or told it’s  just a phase you’ll outgrow eventually.

This storyline is handed to us without asking. It’s woven into the media we consume and the everyday conversations we have with the people around us. This assumption that everyone eventually chooses the same path. With it comes the familiar, and yet always uncomfortable questions, “When are you going to start a family?” “Do you have any kids yet?” “What are you waiting for?”

There’s never any room to pause, to breathe, or to sit quietly with your own thoughts. The moment you hesitate, or dare to say, “I’m not sure I want children,” you’re met with silence, they’re almost stunned. Then it’s followed by the familiar and always judgmental responses, “You’ll change your mind when you’re older.” “What about your parents? don’t you want them to have grandchildren?” “Your life will be empty without kids.”

It’s strange how quickly your uncertainty becomes something others feel entitled to correct. How easily your own life turns into a debate you never asked to have. The constant pressure is so overwhelming sometimes… Everyone treats parenthood like the natural next step in life.  But is it? 

For most of my life, I said I wanted kids without ever stopping to think about what that actually meant. It was just the automatic answer. You repeat what everyone else says, and you follow the path you’ve been taught to follow: you go to school, get a job, meet someone, get married, and finally… start a family. In a way you’re quietly brainwashed into believing what life “should” look like. “You WILL have children.” “You WILL become a parent.” The decision is made for you long before you’re old enough to ever question it. So, somewhere along the way, you just start to believe that parenthood isn’t just one option… It’s the ONLY option… 

When I look back now, the signs feel almost obvious. Signs that I ignored and truly was oblivious to at the time. It never crossed my mind that NOT having children was an option, let alone a valid one. However, deep down, I always knew I had zero desire to be pregnant, but I kept telling myself “everyone feels this way.” Conversations about motherhood made me feel uneasy, but I just  assumed that meant I “just wasn’t ready yet.” Whenever I pictured a life without kids, I felt this wave of relief, followed immediately by guilt. I twisted that guilt into “proof” that I actually did want children.

At the time, I didn’t understand what any of this meant. I was too busy trying to follow the path I thought I was supposed to take. But now, those feelings are impossible to ignore. The older I get, the clearer it becomes that even though I spent my whole life saying I WOULD have children, maybe that was never what I truly wanted.                  

It’s not that I don’t see the beauty in parenthood. I do. I can picture a version of life where my husband and I have little ones running around. I can picture the holidays, the birthdays, the little moments that make it all meaningful.  I’ve thought about all of that carefully, and meticulously, over and over again. 

But no one ever talks about the other side. The exhaustion, the physical and emotional toll, or the way your entire identity shifts. Nobody mentions the loss of freedom, or the quiet nights that disappear. Let’s not forget the financial weight that comes with raising a child. These aspects of parenthood get brushed aside and labeled as “normal.” They’re just sacrifices you’re expected to make… But what if I don’t want to?

In 2024 I had an unexpected pregnancy. At that time, we were still open to the idea of “someday,” still imagining that maybe parenthood would be part of our future. We fully embraced it and prepared for our lives to completely change. However, eleven weeks into the pregnancy, I miscarried. It was traumatic and painful in ways I could barely put into words. As devastating as it was, that experience forced me to take a step back and look at my life with a clarity I hadn’t had before. It made me ask myself what I truly wanted, not what I was expected to want, but what felt right for me.

Since then, the fear of getting pregnant again is overwhelming. The idea of having a child sends me into a panic. It feels like it would pull me away from everything I’m working toward and completely change the life I’m trying to build. The longer I sit with these feelings the more I realize they aren’t temporary. They’re not a phase. They’re my truth… I don’t want children… 

I didn’t come to this decision lightly.  Every time I think about parenthood honestly, without pressure, without noise, I end up in the same place. I don’t think I want that life for myself. That’s not to say my heart could never change, or that I’m closed off to the possibility of WANTING a family someday. Maybe there will come a time when something in me shifts. When I finally feel that quiet pull towards parenthood that seems to come so naturally to others. But right now, that feeling simply isn’t there. I try to leave a small window open, but if I’m honest, that “maybe” exists more to reassure others. It lets them hold on to the idea that I might still follow the path that they expect. But the truth is, the future I see for myself doesn’t include children… Admitting that feels like acknowledging something my heart has known for a lot longer than I have. 

Accepting this has been a journey of its own. Saying it out loud feels scary. Society, family, and friends all seem to have a different life in mind for me. It’s difficult to feel confident in a choice that so many people treat as unacceptable or temporary. However, the real challenge isn’t making the choice, it’s trusting myself enough to stand by it.

Here I stand at the crossroads of parenthood, and I’m finally ready to walk the path that brings me peace.

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