You're So Selfish
You want me write an article during the most pivotal election in American history?! You're so selfish. (Just kidding - this one is about our decision not to have kids).
It’s got to be my most controversial decision. Not having kids. But honestly, you’re welcome. One less person to over-populate the planet. Two less millennial parents who, according to their boomer parents, definitely don’t know what they’re doing. And listen, it’s not all my fault. This is mostly Coby’s fault, if we’re looking to place blame (and we always are - can’t possibly be expected to take responsibility for our own actions).
A great prelude to this story is the epic tale of how Coby and I met, which you can read here. After the stalking and the blacking out at Oktoberfest, we went on an actual date. I had worked late that night so I waited for him to pick me up at my grandma’s house, which was close to the restaurant we were going to. I expected to be picked up in a truck. Men around here drive trucks. So when a small, gray Subaru hatchback Impreza pulled into Myrna’s driveway, I almost called off the date. What kind of red-blooded American male drove a Subaru?! (the best kind, apparently).
He took me to dinner and between bites of my salmon, explained to me that he didn’t want kids and it had been an issue with his girlfriends in the past and so he wanted to tell me this now, within the first 30 minutes of our first date, so that we didn’t waste our time dating if we were diametrically opposed on this topic.
He’d get no objection from me. I too did not want children (plus I really liked Coby and had already told my Mom I was going to marry him so I was kind of all-in at this point).
It had started with a babysitting gig that all teenage girls seem to get talked into. My first job was watching two kids who were probably about 6 and 8. They had lost their Mom to cancer and it was my job to watch them between school letting out and their Dad getting home. One day, we were biking on Cottage Avenue in my little hometown when the girl turned to me and asked where her brother was. My bike skidded to a stop. What do you mean where is your brother?
I had lost him. We biked up and down the road, through town, by the river, making lap after lap of the neighborhoods, screaming his name. Terror shook my whole body. I could barely control the handlebars of my two-speed purple and green bicycle. My legs were on fire but I couldn’t slow down. We had to find him. What happens if we don’t find him?!
After searching for what seemed like forever and having my brain go to dark places the entire time, I decided to drop the girl off at their house and call the police before going back out to search. We screeched the bikes to a stop and started to run up the steps when I saw him. The little boy. Sitting on his front porch. This little shit had the audacity to ask me, “where have you guys been?”
I quit very soon after.
My next job was for a single mother and her son. They lived close to the middle school and so a few times a week, I walked to their house and babysat until the mom was off work. These days alternated with a friend of mine, Gardenia. The kid was an only child who was used to getting his way and I was a petulant teenage girl. We were going to watch whatever I wanted to watch on TV and we were going to play only the games I wanted to play. The whole vibe was “I’m here for the paycheck, kid. Sit down and shut up.” He did not like me and you really can’t blame him. I was shit at this job.
The mom always called the night before I was going to watch her son to arrange the babysitting and give the particulars of when she’d be home. I’d been babysitting this kid for a few months when the night-before call didn’t come in. I asked my Mom about it and Kellbell said that she probably just forgot and that I should go anyway. That didn’t feel right, but I followed her terrible advice.
The next day, I showed up and when the kid opened the front door, his jaw hit the floor. “What are you doing here?” He asked.
“It’s my day to babysit, duh.”
When his Mom got home, she was likewise very surprised to see me. I could tell from her demeanor that her lack of communication with me the day before had been on purpose. I wasn’t supposed to be there. But she was nice enough, paid me and said thank you. She never called again and I never again made the mistake of following Kellbell’s advice.
I learned later that the mom had called Gardenia and asked her to take over my shifts because the little boy didn’t like me. Gardenia was on her way over to their house when she saw me on the front porch, knocking on the door. She went home, assuming that she’d gotten her days mixed up.
It’s the only time I’ve ever been fired.
But obviously one doesn’t come to the life-altering decision to not have kids because of a few bad babysitting gigs, right? Right?!
Right. Instinctually, I think I’ve always known that I wasn’t bound for motherhood. I’ve never been one to coo and awe at babies. I never looked down at the bald, alienish face of a newborn and thought, I can’t wait to have my own. When people asked if I wanted to hold their baby, it was always a hard pass. Big no thank you. Your baby is delicate and if I drop it and it dies, you’ll have to grow another one. And that sounds like a lot. Best to not take that risk.
And don’t get me started on toddlers. The noise alone. Dear god.
But I grew up in a small town where you went to college, found a husband, and then settled down and had kids. That was what life entailed. So until that fateful dinner with Coby Jo Weidenbach in October, 2011, I was still convinced that I would inevitably have kids. It truly hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that I could, just, like, not have them.
And this is when the real fun started. The audacity to not have children. The utter insanity of that choice. The sheer selfishness of that conclusion. People were mad. People were in disbelief. People were, for lack of a better word, really fucking rude.
Here are some samples of the conversations that I’ve been subjected to over the years:
Them: “When are you and Coby going to start a family?” (as if two people deciding to live together forever isn’t a family….but I digress).
Me: “Oh we’re not having kids.”
Them: “But who will take care of you when you’re old?”
This one is a favorite of mine because it implies that the best reason to have kids is to force them to house and care for you when you’re old. And I’m the selfish one? Oh, okay.
Them: “You and Coby are going to have such beautiful children.” (this is true, we would).
Me: “Oh we’re not having kids.”
Them: [small giggle] “You’ll change your mind.” [wink, nudge nudge]
These people decided that its perfectly fine and socially acceptable to be condescending and you know what, same girl. I love a little “I know best” degradation of another human being. It’s basically my job. Can’t be mad about it.
Them, watching kids do something like kick a soccer ball in the wrong direction: “Just wait until you have your own. Kids are the best.”
Me, freezing and bored: “Oh we’re not having kids.”
Them: “What? Oh no. You’ll regret it! You’ll miss out on the joys of motherhood. And being pregnant was the best! I loved being pregnant.” [it’s always a woman who has this reaction]
As if I hadn’t thought about what I’d miss by not having children. And believe me, there are times where I second-guess it. I’ll never have a little human snuggle into me and tell me, I love you, Mommy. But I’ll also never have to hear that very same human scream, I hate you! just a few years later. So….
Here’s my favorite interaction. The one that keeps me warm at night. I was at my cousin Erin’s baby shower. Kellbell and I were sitting outside on one of those rare beautiful Seattle summer days, watching her open gifts, when the little old lady I was sitting next to leaned over and whispered to me: “Someday this will be you.”
I replied, “oh, my husband and I aren’t having kids.”
She grabbed my arm with a firm and purposeful grip, looked me sternly in the eyes and said, “good for you.”
It took me aback. No one had responded like this and I wasn’t expecting it from a small, unassuming little old lady. “Thank you,” was all I managed in reply.
“I’m serious. I didn’t want kids but that wasn’t an option in my day. I was forced to be a mother. I’m so happy that you get to decide.”
This lady was my people. A fellow difficult woman. I could feel it.
I think people assume that we decided not to have kids for something like financial reasons or the freedom to not beg tiny humans to sit and eat their goddamn dinner every night. That we’re selfish. And honestly, those people aren’t completely wrong but it’s so much more than that. Being a parent is a huge responsibility. It means dedicating a great chunk of the rest of your life to raising good, well-adjusted humans who will contribute to the planet. If you’re going to take on that responsibility, you should be without a doubt dedicated to that mission. You should desperately want to be a parent. And we just didn’t. It’s too big of a responsibility to be on the fence about it.
There’s also the fact that our planet is on fire and its very likely that we won’t have the resources to feed everyone at some point and so it didn’t entirely feel good to add to that ongoing problem, but that’s kind of an aside (hi, it’s me. I have anxiety, it’s me).
People also assume that we’re not parents. As I type this, there is a little girl curled up beside me, roughly pawing at my hands, asking me to quit typing and pet her instead. Being first Stella’s mom, and now a mother to Ruby and Boomer has been a great joy in my life. And the cats, we can’t forget about the cats: Lula Mae, Paul Varjack and Mag Wildwood (if you get the reference, we can be friends). These five squishy babies love us and we love them and together, we’re a family.
Funny enough, our boomer parents still think we’re not parenting the fur-children correctly, so really I get to experience a lot of what it’s like to have kids through the animals.
You let them on the couch?
And your bed?
Tell her to get down.
You should discipline them.
Oh no, they bark! Did you know you can fix that with a bark collar?
Are you hand feeding him?
Why are you just letting her chew on the baseboards?
Aren’t those the dogs who ate your couch?
In my day, we just left them at home when we wanted to go out.
You let her lick the inside of your mouth?
Being a parent isn’t exclusive to human children, just like getting to experience the joys of having children in your life isn’t reserved to those who birth them. I have three nieces and a nephew who I would burn the world down for. Those four beautiful, amazing lifeforms are my family and I’d go to the end of the world for them. Whether they like it or not.
So look, the next time someone tells you that they’re not having kids I suggest the following response: “Cool.” Simple. To the point. No need for follow up. They aren’t asked to explain. You aren’t wasting your breath. Everyone gets to move on to more pressing topics like, "why does Lindsey let Ruby lick the inside of her mouth? Is she okay?”
I’m not, but thanks for asking.
Remember, stay difficult and always question authority.
Bless that little ladies heart!!
Loved this, Lindsey. Your reflections on parenting and self-doubt resonate deeply. I’m in rural France, daughter in NYC, navigating the quirks of a 1647 farmhouse, with ducks as my only audience. Days like that make me question everything, but sharing these stories reminds me we’re not alone in our struggles.Thank you!