Freak Like Me

It‘s my own fault. I implied as much in my last column so here it goes: Yes, I think I can manage without having children. Ever. And be happy.

Why am I considered such a freak? I know that the mother instinct is, well, an instinct but haven‘t we oppressed most of our natural instincts anyways? Except the sex drive, thankfully. Why is it almost a sin to throw motherhood out of the window too?

I‘ve notice that we women, who dare to insinuate that we don‘t really want to have kids, either receive deadly looks or patronising oh-you-don‘t-know-what-you‘re-talking-about smiles. Still I‘ve never heard or seen anyone go bonkers when men declare that they don‘t want babies. They seem to either have it in them or not, bless ‘em! Women, however, are supposed to love kids, want to have about a million of them, love baby clothes, baby furniture, baby this and baby that. If we don‘t, we better lay low and shut entirely up about this ‘defect’ of ours.

Of course I haven’t ruled out anything and everyone has the right to change their minds. But at this point in my life I don’t plan on having any babies, ever. I’ve always liked kids though. I was always babysitting when I was young, was an Aupair and have worked at both primary and secondary schools. I always assumed I’d have kids later in life, I even remember feeling an urge for having a baby when I was around twenty. But slowly, the urge faded out, the plans changed and there were so many things that I wanted to do that I started worrying about where to squeeze in the having-a-baby part! Until one day I realised that I had no obligation to have a baby! It was a great discovery – I simply didn’t have to have kids if I didn’t want to. And after some time of serious contemplation, I found that I simply didn’t want to.

I felt such a relief after making that discovery, but didn’t dare saying anything out loud at first. Soon, however, I discovered that I was far from being alone feeling this way. I ran into other young women who, in a whispered voice, told me they felt the same and we formed sort of a secret alliance. Now we sit and give each other secret signals when some of the girls start talking about pregnancy, birth, breast feeding, sleeping routines, pot training, playschools, chicken pox, paediatricians, pacifiers etc.

We understand that this is an important part of their lives so we give them a little time for these distasteful discussions and then we start diverting the conversation towards something more interesting. If that doesn’t work we start yawning or suddenly remember that we have to go somewhere. The worst is when this happens at dinner parties. Some mothers simply don’t seem to understand that graphic descriptions of the changes in the female body during pregnancies, or action packed commentary about births can cause loss of appetite for the rest of us.

Call me a wimp, but pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding is something I find rather a revolting discussion topic over dinner. And even though I could do with shedding a few pounds, there’s no joy in starving while watching your friends chew on a juicy steak and tell you about this woman who gave birth to such a gigantic baby that she tore all the way back to her...