It first happened a couple of years ago. Leaning across the terrazzo countertops of my childhood friend's North London home while her two young daughters played nearby, I'd just delivered the soon-to-be-familiar line, "I'm not sure if we want to have kids." I braced myself for the litany of reasons that motherhood was not to be missed (parenting is the biggest joy of life, our reason for being, an opportunity for growth and fulfillment, and, if I opted out, I'd be lonely in old age).
Instead, coffee cup in hand, she stared at me. "Don't do it," she said, without a trace of sarcasm.
I was stunned. From age 7, this friend had been adamant that she wanted to be a mother. Her children's art projects filled their home—a testament to the love and care that she brings not only to her family but to her job as an elementary school teacher. It wasn't, she went on to say, that she didn't love her children but that parenthood wasn't as necessary as she once thought. Given the chance, she'd recommend a sidestep.
Since then, I've heard some version of this warning dozens of times. |
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