Another exercise in avoiding the negative construction

I am childfree. My husband is childfree. A lot of parents seem to be confused about what it is to be childfree, since they are not and they can’t conceive (heh) of anyone who would want to be like that. So I”ll try to explain how I see it.

I don’t care for most kids, with some exceptions. At certain moments of great irritation, I can’t stand kids. And babies? YUCK at all times. From both ends.

Please don’t take this personally, parents – you have the right to have kids and to be happy you did. And I have the right to abstain from entering the parent trap, and also from adoring your kids and cooing over their latest picture.

And I have the right to be happy with my choice, too.

First of all, back when we were all young, the message everyone gets is “some day you’ll grow up and have kids.” This is one of those one-size-fits-all messages that actually cause a lot of grief for those it doesn’t actually fit.

Kids who grow up to be gay hear it and have to deal with it in their own way. They come out to their family, and if all goes well, their choice is accepted, though the unlikelihood of grandkids is regretted, rather than condemned as “selfishness.”

Kids who grow up to be straight, however, have to deal with the fact that they are expected to provide progeny for the family. It can be just as harrowing for a straight adult to “come out” as childfree to extended family with a firm “we won’t” rather than a deflecting “maybe… someday” or “we’re not ready” or “don’t hold your breath.” Then they have to explain again and again that “won’t” means not ever, ever, ever. Not changing our minds, ever. In some cases, “snip” scars must be displayed in order to convince them that you mean it.

The reaction to a firm “we won’t” can be surprisingly bitter, although in our case we were lucky to have either firm support or a puzzled “well, you’re smart to have given it so much thought.” So some childfree couples never do get around to telling parents and nosey aunts. They just wait it out until everyone in the family stops badgering them about “So whenyagonnahaveabaybee???”

Note – infertile couples trying to have kids and suffering through various treatments are subjected to the most amazingly nosy questions about when they’re going to have kids. People should just not ask these kinds of personal questions, but they do anyway. This astounds me – but then, I’d never, ever think to ask such a question, because I’m not interested, remember?

Back in childhood, girls get this message handed to them every time they’re given a baby doll to play with. Barbie dolls are different – there seem to be a lot of Career Barbies now, but when I had one, all the outfits were really girly and the career options were limited. Now it seems there are Paleontologist Barbies and Astronaut Barbies; I have to admit this is pretty cool compared to the way it was back in “the day.”

However, that message that girls get is drummed into you so that years before you have a chance to lose your virginity, you’re told you’ll be a mommy someday. And if a girl says something unacceptable, like “no, I won’t!” she is told “you’ll change your mind someday.” And no matter how she shakes her head and says “No, I won’t change my mind, I don’t wanna be a mommy” her protests are ignored with an irritatingly smug smile.

Well, guess what. Some girls (not many, but a few) rejected that message at an early age, and never changed their minds. I’m one of them.

Guys, for some reason, don’t get this message pounded into them until just after marrying. Hubby mentioned a couple of comments he heard from people after we returned from one of our many honeymoons (one of the perks of the childfree is you can have as many honeymoons as you can afford. Which is a lot). One cow-orker of his, after being assured there were no plans for kids, ever, replied “why bother to get married, then?” ::eyeroll::

I knew of women and couples who for one reason or another never had children, and I remember they were regarded with a kind of pity by society in general. My own mom made dark references to “immaturity in her female organs” once when discussing why my godmother never had children. It came out like it was somehow my godmother’s fault, or her own emotional immaturity rather than a problem with fertility, and it struck me as strange that there was this value judgement made by my mom about her best friend.

I also remember that as little free-range kids we didn’t much like the older people on our block that didn’t have kids or grandkids. This was in the olden days, when kids roamed the neighborhood, ignoring property lines and climbing the neighbors’ trees, and having to be called home at dusk. We thought there was something wrong with them and that they were automatically assumed to be “mean” and stingy with candy at Halloween.

And yet at the same time, I could never picture myself being a mommy and all that. Just not interested. So I always saw myself as one of those people without kids or grandkids, but I’d give away lots of candy at Halloween.

A number of years passed between childhood and meeting my future husband. I had passed the “Christmas Cake” year (stale after the 25th) and gone on another decade before we finally found each other. Maddeningly, all those years I was single and without prospects of marrying, I’d have to field kindly-meant and infuriating questions from family friends and acquaintances.

“When will you be getting married?” – well, I think I’d have to DATE someone first, don’t you?

“Why have you never married?” – My life is over at 30? ‘Scuse me, I’ll just die now.

“The clock is ticking, you know!” – Let it run down, I never bothered to set the alarm anyway.

Fortunately for my sanity and my future (and present) happiness, my hubby was and is not and never shall be interested in parenthood, either. By the time we met, I was able to articulate this nameless avoid-parenthood-forever conviction of mine, which didn’t even have a proper name as far as I knew. The concept of “childless-by-choice” existed, but was unsatisfactory to me due to the “less-ness” of the term. I didn’t feel a lack of children, I wanted an abundance of freedom from having to have them. And he felt the same way, so yay us.

A few years ago, I discovered the term “childfree” and realized that it fit my concept of how I felt and believed about the issue of not having issue. It avoids the negative construction and defines me and people like me by what we are, rather than what we are not.

I spent a few years knocking around the childfree newsgroups and continually found it funny that parents would always barge in. They felt they had to

1) come to a place created by and for childfree people and tell them off for not doing what they did with their lives. Life is not a script; we prefer to live ad-lib.
2) attempt to criticise them by telling them they would make rotten parents anyway (some parents make rotten parents – see your daily newspaper)
3) take the most outrageous, provocative statements by the most radical CFers (bless ’em all) and assume that all childfree adults were babyhating monsters.

Well, I’m not a monster. I just hate babies. I also hate brussels sprouts. Both smell and taste AWFUL. 😉

So much that I’d never willingly touch or hold one – but if I saw a parent or caretaker shaking one like a vodka cocktail I’d try to rescue it.

A baby, not a brussels sprout, that is. Horrible things, brussels sprouts.

There are a few parents of my acquaintance who have earned my approval – they didn’t need it to have kids, but they earned it nonetheless. And there are a large number of parents who earned my scorn for raising bratty, badly behaved kids and letting them run amok in public and in private, making things hidjus for everyone in earshot.

I reserve the right to rant about Parents and their Progeny Behaving Badly. Unfortunately, they give me a lot of material. I actually wish it were otherwise.