I’m one of those students at Camosun who’s often mistaken for a teacher. I’m a “mature student,” someone who decided in their 30s to change their life and go back to school. It’s one of the best decisions I ever made… One of them.
I get asked all the time about why I don’t have kids. I’d never been against the idea, but I knew when I was younger that kids could never fit into my lifestyle. I had enough trouble taking care of myself; I couldn’t even begin to consider taking care of a child. Children are innocent and powerless for a time; I never wanted to mess one up with what might be bad decisions. As I grew older, and learned more about the vast problems that exist in the world, the more I became okay with not leaving it for anyone else to inherit.
Most of my friends from high school joined the mom club. I’d see their posts on Instagram and Facebook showing pristine, white weddings, soon to be followed with pictures of gap-toothed, smiling children going through every stage of life. I’d scan through the posts of these women I used to party with and gaze in wonder at their now seemingly perfect Hallmark lives and wonder why I didn’t go down that road myself.
Whenever I run into one of these friends they usually ask me if I’m married yet; do I have children? And they always seem to say the same thing when I tell them “no”: “Oh, well, there’s all sorts of options now, Emily. You can adopt, or get IVF. You’ll be okay!” I really live for telling them that I’m already okay.
It’s inevitable when I explain to them that I am happy with the way things are—that I’m concentrating on building myself up with my work (which I love) and my schooling (which I love)—that they’ll stare at me as if I’m probably kidding myself.
However, when I say that I live a lovely, free life without complications like mortgages, a life where I can decide on a whim to take a trip or sleep until noon on a Saturday, that their eyes flicker with something like wistfulness, or understanding. Still, I know that I’ll be a topic of discussion at some point, as the one whose priorities were not on par with theirs.
Not having children is something I’ve become at peace with. I may too feel wistful when I see happy families playing in the park, but I have a very fulfilling life the way it is, full of possibilities and potential.
So, anyone else out there who suffers the same dilemma: just know that you’re not alone and that the world has plenty to offer on its own.