Why I don’t want to have kids
Ever since I was a teenager, I made the decision not to have children. I don’t remember exactly when I first said it out loud to my family, but I do remember it was shortly before I turned 20. Back then, they laughed and told me I’d eventually change my mind. Now I’m over 30, and if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I don’t want kids.
I understand why my family keeps asking when I’m going to have one, now that I’ve been living with my girlfriend for a couple of years, but I still find it odd that they can’t just accept, once and for all, that I don’t want kids and I’m not going to have them. And to their misfortune (specifically my mom and dad), my girlfriend doesn’t want kids either. Just like me, it’s a decision she made a long time ago.
I have nothing against children or people who want to have them. I think wanting a child is something beautiful, and I truly admire parents who want to raise their kids with love and a sense of responsibility. I respect that deeply. But more than anything, I respect children, and having them without actually wanting them, just to meet social expectations or because it’s “the next step” in life, feels like a huge disrespect to life itself.
As for why I don’t want them, there are many reasons. One, of course, is how expensive life is now and how hard it is to reach financial stability these days. Another big reason is violence. I don’t want to raise kids in a society that has such little regard for human life. And then there’s the ecological collapse, the water crisis, wars, and the looming technofeudalism we seem to be heading toward.
But I guess I could overlook all those things. If I truly wanted a kid, I’d probably find a way or work harder to improve my income. Everything else is out of my control, and there’s always the possibility things might get better. I’m the kind of person who likes to believe that, eventually, everything will be okay.
The real reason, the thing that holds me back—or rather, killed that desire from the start—is my own experience as someone’s child, and the damage that experience did to my mental health and development as a person.
Among the wounds I carried, there was one that stood out: abandonment. My parents got married very young, and with all the mistakes that come from inexperience (and the frustration of having huge responsibilities at such a young age), one of the biggest ones was being negligent with their children. I know this might sound like a harsh judgment, or like I’m generalizing. After all, there are no perfect parents—no perfect people either—and we all have the right to make mistakes. But I do believe there’s a difference between making mistakes and constantly choosing not to take responsibility as a parent.
More than once, I was literally abandoned—both physically and financially—in the care of other relatives, while my parents went on with their lives, moving to different cities or countries, or building new families. From a very young age, I felt like a burden. I felt like my needs didn’t matter, like my life was worth nothing. I spent half of my formative years being raised by people who weren’t my parents, and even though they did it with love, it wasn’t their responsibility, and they weren’t in a position to raise a child who wasn’t theirs.
Every single mistake my parents made affected me in one way or another, because they never stepped up to their responsibilities. They had no financial stability. No property or assets. No safe place to leave me that wouldn’t feel like I was someone else’s problem. They just kept living their lives as if their kids didn’t exist, only acknowledging us when it was convenient, like using us as pawns during their divorce.
I don’t want to get into specific situations because I don’t think they really add much to the point of this post. What I want to say is that my childhood was chaotic. My experience as someone’s child wasn’t a pleasant one, and it left me with very deep wounds that took years of therapy to heal. And even though I know everything I went through was basically a masterclass in how not to be a parent, and I probably do have everything it takes to raise a child with love. But I don’t want to. I just don’t feel it. And not having kids when you don’t truly want them is the best thing you can do for them.
In the end, I just wish people would respect the decision of those of us who don’t want kids, instead of assuming, criticizing, or labeling us as selfish (selfish about what, by the way?). Some of us have very good reasons.
Thanks for reading.