Issue 14: Les bébés
We didn't have kids and we have thoughts about that!
Ursula: Hello Kurt, and hello readers! How’s everybody doing? I will just jump in and say that I’ve been in a real funk lately. There is only sunlight for about an hour and a half every day, I have back pain, the world is burning, I’m low-grade mad all the time. It might be seasonal depression but it’s more than that, it’s like, Cranky Bitch Season for me.
Kurt: I have had a low-grade depression since the summer--long story, but I’m on the job hunt--and now that we’re on the cusp of winter, our old friend SAD has come to play. I’m sure a lot of our readers can relate. It definitely makes creative endeavors that much harder (why is NaNoWriMo in November?!). But we are actively defying our depression to come to you, our sweet readers, with another issue before we retreat to our beds, under mountains of blankets and cats, and don’t come out until spring! This month’s issue is one that’s been in the works for a while. That’s right, we’re tackling the subject of living child-free.
Ursula: This is a big one and I think we’ve had it on our list of topics since Matrimonium began. Neither of us are parents, for different reasons, which means different things for both of us.
I’ve reached a point where I’m mostly comfortable talking about my decision not to have children, but whew, there were a FRAUGHT couple of years there where it just filled me with so much shame and second-guessing and inner turmoil. I’ve mentioned in a prior issue that children were a dealbreaker for JD from the beginning. Like, it was in his OK Cupid profile (LOL); we talked about it within a month of getting to know each other; it was a whole thing for me to contend with as our relationship got more serious and we eventually started talking about marriage. A life with JD would equal a life with no children.
That meant a couple of things. The first was simply that I’d always imagined becoming a mother one day, and would have to get comfortable--ideally, excited--by the prospect of giving that up. I know a lot of people who are childfree because the idea of parenting never appealed to them, but that wasn’t the case for me. I like kids. Growing up, I had baby dolls and liked to think about the names I’d give my future children. The maternal instincts are definitely there. So it was weird to meet JD at age 24 and reconsider all of that.
I also had this whole extra layer of discomfort about giving up something I valued for the sake of some guy. It was impossible to reconcile. What kind of feminist would I be if I stayed with a man who, sure, made me feel happy and loved but didn’t want this one big thing that I wanted? That part honestly bothered me more than anything else, and the thought that anyone would judge me negatively for making the choice I did is why I still struggle to talk about it.
Kurt: So, I have the exact opposite experience. Throughout my childhood, it was kind of hammered into me that children = bad, pregnancy = bad, marriage = bad. My dad was anti-children and anti-marriage and really didn’t want me to do either. He wasn’t necessarily anti-gay, but he had some troubles coming to terms with my queerness. Maybe he took comfort in the fact that I couldn’t have an unplanned pregnancy. And I’m sure some of his programming is with me, still. But even with that knowledge I am still weirded out by little children. I have never had the urge to be a parent. When I think of all the stuff that goes into child-rearing: diapers, feeding, clothes, too many bodily functions. Not to mention the literal cost of having a child in this country.
Sometimes I do think having a kid would be rewarding, despite all the cons I just listed. For me, though, I love my independence too much for me to ever question it. The fact that Gil and I (assuming we have the time and money) could just get on a plane or a train at a moment’s notice and just go somewhere without having another human life in the balance is honestly a huge relief, and yes, a privilege.
On the flip side, though, I love being the cool queer uncle (quncle?). All of the kids I know are super cool--just like their parents--and I like having zero responsibilities when it comes to that. Shout out to all of my friends who have kids: y’all are doing some fantastic work and your kids are so much cooler than I was at that age. And Gil has a niece that I’ve watched go from a quiet and reserved kid to a smart and funny teenager, and it’s been great to see her at family functions and we can give her life advice while trying to turn her into a little activist.
I enjoy the kind of hands-off interactions with kids. For the first time in what seems like forever, this Halloween Gil and I had trick-or-treaters come to our house. And it was so adorable. It was so fun to see all the lil kiddos in their cute costumes come up to our door and ask for candy—we had primo candy, BTW—and we ran out of our supply within an hour. But it was so wholesome and fun, and we didn’t have to do anything! “Here you go, adorable children, have some candy and now go away and we’ll see you next year!”
Ursula: YES! JD and I have two godchildren, and I agree entirely with the fun and freedom that comes from being able to spend some time with them, shower them with treats, and then leave. One Christmas when they were little, we got them Disney princess-themed Lego sets. You should have heard the squeals of delight. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.
Anyway, being with JD, I eventually decided that if we were going to build a beautiful, fulfilling, child-free life together, I would have to come up with my own reasons not to have kids; it wasn’t enough for me to just accept his, you know? And...I found my reasons very quickly. At first—and this is still my number one reason—it was climate change. Then Trump got elected. That solidified my reasoning even more. It felt like the whole world was crumbling around me, and I couldn’t justify making a whole new human who might watch the seas burn long after I’m gone.
When I turned 30 I had a bit of an existential crisis about the whole thing, and there were a couple of months where I suddenly wanted to be a parent so badly that I might have to leave JD and start over. But I got through that, and things were great for a while, and THEN, a few years later, the pandemic hit. And parents of young kids were absolutely drowning. It wasn’t a gleeful moment for me or anything, but I would hear about other people struggling to work from home while their toddlers were running around, and be grateful that I didn’t have to do that.
Now, of course, the pandemic continues to rage while our stupid stupid government will not budge on the topic of paid parental leave. I’m sorry to get political, but I think anyone who blasts a human out of their body deserves some time to recover and get to know the little dude and not be forced to contribute to the capitalism machine for a few weeks!
Kurt: Oh it absolutely boggles my mind that this country is one of the only modernized countries that still doesn’t have universal health care and parental leave. And I can’t imagine what it’s been like for my friends with kids right now. I know that if I was in their situation I would have lost my damn mind by this point. That cements me being child-free; I just don’t have that kind of strength.
Ursula: Nor should anyone be expected to! I’ve been reading a lot about parenthood and specifically motherhood in the context of the pandemic, and a theme that arises over and over again is how we like to talk about moms as “superheroes,” which kind of absolves us of providing them with any structural support. It’s a total scam and we’ve fallen for it. But I feel like I’m getting off track here. Please continue.
Kurt: I remember when I was part of the LGBTQ group in college, and part of our mission was education of the masses. “Meet a Gay Day” we called it (unofficially). So once a semester we’d go and talk to a social issues class about what it’s like to be a queer person. During these discussion, the question of kids would inevitably come up. It would go a little something like this:
Student: Do you want kids?
The “Meet a Gay Day” Gays: No. No. Probably not. No. Maybe I’ll adopt.
Student: Well you’ll never know if you want kids until you have them.
What is this supposed to mean? Especially as queer people in same-sex relationships, suddenly having a kid isn’t something that just happens. It’s a statement that feels geared toward the straight population specifically. It implies that you’ll stumble into being a parent, and then your child-rearing instincts will kick in. I should tell you that I have zero instincts when it comes to children. Especially with little kids. I really have to try to interact with them.
Ursula: First off, “Meet a Gay Day” is hilarious. Thank you, the mid-2000s!
Secondly, yeah, that line of thinking is nonsensical, and can be applied to just about anything. It’s like, “you’ll never know if you want to be a dentist until you try it.” Which...sure, maybe that’s true, but we only have the one life. Besides, the thing about kids is that it’s not something you can just experiment with. If you have a child, whether it’s planned or unplanned, biological or not, YOU HAVE A CHILD. It doesn’t really matter at that point whether you like it or not.
That’s something I thought a lot about when I was considering parenthood for myself--it was going to have to be a fork-in-the-road kind of decision. There is absolutely a version of myself that could have gotten married to someone else and had kids and been happy; I believe that. It’s just not the choice I made. And the vast majority of the time, it’s a choice I feel secure in.
Kurt: I think about that, too. What would life have been like had I gone down a different path? Would I have eventually come to a place where I would have been okay with having kids? Felt good being a parent? All I know is that I am happy with the life Gil and I have ultimately made for ourselves, and that’s something I would never change.
What do you think, fellow readers? How did you come to your decisions to have or not have little ones? It’s a fascinating topic that I think we’ve only scratched the surface of, and we’d love to hear from you!
And just as a quick note: we’ll be taking December off, but we’ll see you in...2022? No, that can’t be right. IT CAN’T BE RIGHT.
Ursula: Seems suss, but okay. Later, guys. I’ll be in my blanket fort.
