I love babies. LOVE them. They’re just so darn adorable and make me all ooey and gooey inside.
But I don’t want kids for myself. How can that be? Well, for starters, I do NOT love toddlers. Or tweens. Or teenagers. Really, once they’re able to form more than a few cohesive sentences and can run around of their own free will, I’ve lost interest. Quite frankly, I can’t identify with children and am a little at a loss for how to interact with them.
And boy am I tired of hearing It’ll be different when they’re your own. Because you know what? It won’t. And why would I want to take the chance?
I love infants. I love snuggling with an adorable little thing, nurturing a life that relies on me for certain things and shows unending amounts of affection without ever growing up to give me grief. So I have a dog, and I enjoy other people’s human babies, and that makes me happy. Maternal instinct fulfilled.
My lifestyle is something that also factored into my choice. My husband’s profession of choice keeps odd hours, and the two of us are on a schedule that is not conducive to school or other child-centric activities. Aside from our jobs, we value our sleep. And the ability to make spontaneous decisions without having to worry about childcare. We enjoy the beach, amusement parks, have aspirations of traveling in the future, and all of these things are not only more difficult with children, but more expensive.
For us, the childfree choice was the natural choice.