Should I have a baby?
If I were a man I’d have so many kids.
I was 26, and my ex, a friend and I were attending a poetry night in Canberra. I performed a poem about the USA. I can’t remember what it was even about, but afterwards a man approached, probably 20 years older than me. If I recall, his name was Dan. He complimented my rhyming couplets and I heard in his accent that he too was American. Then within the same breath he delivered a warning, something along the lines of “you better think long and hard before you have a child with someone in this country.”
He went on to explain that he had a life and writing career in the arts in Chicago. He contributed to NPR but then moved to Australia for love and children came soon after. Now, he told me, despite his split with their mother, he cannot leave because his children are here. He loved them of course, but the life he once had was gone.
I’ve known several fathers and mothers, not from Australia, who have split with the other parent but have felt forced to stay because their children were born here. (Australia, the US and other countries follow the treaty of the Hague Convention, and all I know about it is, if you are an international couple and you raise your child in one place, and you split up, it is hard/illegal to move your kid back home with you.) Friends have told me of their conflicting emotions, never wanting to leave their children, but feeling tethered to this country in a way they never expected prior to kids.
One reason I’ve opted not to have kids thus far is because I know that having them is hard even when your parents live next door. I can’t imagine the additional challenges of doing it abroad. Then again I know non Australians who have had children over here, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them.
Anyway, the expat issue comes up, but I’m more interested in the broader question of having children. But the Chicago man’s voice stays in my ear.
I wish either myself or my brother would have a kid as I’d like to see what happens with our awesome Morris genes. I’m banking on my brother, and then I can be the raddest Aunty on earth.
If I were a man, a parent, not required to carry a child in my uterus, I would be way more likely to want it. If I were a man I’d have heaps of kids. I’d figure out a way to make money to support them, and I’d enjoy a glorious career, truly having it all in a way that mothers rarely do. Studies show that men with kids excel in their career while women tend to regress. Studies also show that women’s brains change after they give birth. I’ve read plenty of stories of women ending their career priorities after birth, and this freaks me right out. I know that every mother and parent who has opted to prioritize child rearing over their creativity and career will say that was what they truly wanted and they don’t regret it, but the theory that my own body and hormones have potential to veer me off my current course (whatever the hell that is lol) makes me think ehhhh, maybe I better not.
But then I worry! Will I regret it if I don’t have children? Will I regret it if I do? I detest making decisions and yet to not make a decision is to decide.
I’m writing a story on miscarriages, and I interviewed a doctor who has delivered babies all over the world. He spoke to me about the importance in communicating with women, young families and everyone in society. We need to teach people it’s fine to not have children, but also that they do need to think about it earlier in life because the longer you wait, the harder it is.
My desire to have kids is influenced by the people around me. Recently a friend, a single mom raising three children, said to me with a serious face, “It is hard. It is really hard.”
I think about that hilarious cartoon from a while back, the child-free woman and the goose.
I love my self indulgent childfree life. I have work that I love, I have a partner I adore, I have the opportunity to travel and I have yoga on my balcony and walks in nature on a whim. I value this incredibly. I walk in the mangroves, listening to the music and I’m the happiest person alive.
A fascinating experience happens to people who have kids. I see an authentic compassion and care in parents, that I see less of in nonparents. It’s a selflessness and ability to think beyond themselves. I find this beautiful. But then again, they are extending that unconditional love to the mini version of themselves, is that really that transcendental? Like parents just take their ego and transfer it to their offspring, the genetic repeat. I have the most admiration for people who choose to adopt and foster, to take in someone who is not from their own body or bloodline.
Back in 2020 we held a Heart Open event called Mums at the Museum. Kirsten Drysdale and I interviewed different artists about the role of motherhood in their life. The charming and hilarious illustrator Liz Anelli, mother of adult children said to me laughing with her cute English accent, “Oh just have a baby Alex, go on, it’ll be fine.”
In that moment, I wanted to!
“She’s right,” I thought, “What’s the big deal anyway?” “I’ll work it out. Everyone does.” She made it sound so joyful and easy. A lot of my mom friends say the same. Am I overthinking it? I do love children. I would love to do a photoshoot with my big pregnant belly, to go through the miracle of childbirth, to feel the kicks, to know that I made life, something not everyone gets the privilege of saying. If only they’d stay small and not grow up to be selfish adults that would undoubtedly let me down.
I’ve heard that the older women get, the more likely they’ll be to want a child, and many regret their decision not to have them. I also read about a secret Facebook group where moms confessed privately how they regret their decision. Where are the scientific studies on this? Surely I should be able to make an educated choice.
What if I’ve grown up in a society so focused on education and equality that I miss out on something miraculous? What if I do have a child and desperately miss my independence and feel hoodwinked by traditional societal pressures? What if I don’t think about it at all and then on my deathbed see a bunch of yoga sessions, wine nights and hastily written Substacks and that’s it.
I read over this piece and imagine my readers thinking “this is her most self indulgent Substack yet,” but I’m playing around with a powerful, personal decision, one of which women didn’t get much of a say on, back in the day. I’m one of billions; my choice to procreate doesn’t matter much. But as my 36th birthday creeps up, I wonder about this modern world and what I’ll regret.
What do you think? Should I have a baby? What did you do? I should probably discuss it with my partner. Thanks for reading, sorry if it was cringe or exhausting or offensive or something else.
I had my daughter at 37. Prior to that I was far too busy enjoying everything life offered. I wanted to travel everywhere (I managed to travel every year for long stints from 21-37), I wanted to regenerate land (I did by buying an acreage and planting 450 local provenance trees), I wanted to have life-changing jobs! (I had two significant jobs before 37 in very challenging sectors of special education and paediatric health education), I wanted to have an inner city pad where I could cook to host mega parties (I did, catering for dozens on the roof top of my Potts Point apartment talked about years afterwards) and so on and so on. I had so many dreams to fulfill before the “entrapment” of having a child. And I achieved them & more.
Then I fell pregnant, unplanned at 37. I announced ‘I’m keeping this one’ and I went forth. ‘Blink’ and she’s left home, pursuing her own dreams at 20 and I’m setting out again with a batch of new dreams begun and planned.
But my child was also a dream that was given to me by life itself. I didn’t stop my dreams to raise her. She joined my life of dreams and experiences.
If you decide to breed, I highly recommend just one child. One is so beautiful. Or more! Your choice. But I barrack for one.
Yes it’s hard but if I could just help people who are pondering this decision to understand that the hard AND the infinite depth of love & the beautiful go hand in hand. They weave together all the time.
(Dr Phil got young people to care for a crying pooping doll 24/7 to experience parenting and they found it horrific. I found the experiment horrific because it presented all the hard and none of the wonderful. A terrible concept.)
Be alert to post natal depression, know that there is isolation at times like you’ve never felt before but there’s also bonding and attachment to another person unlike any other too. It is never an either/or situation.
You learn what a bond you would die for is, you gain a deeper understanding of your parents and ancestors, you learn to speak up about matters with a solidity that you danced around before, the daily grind can be hard but nothing brings your life into such sharp purposeful focus. The few other mum friends you truly click with over music kinder, kiddies ballet, unbearable recorder lessons, at the P&C meetings... whatever... these women you keep for life. Your interest in THEIR children’s development and journey is so meaningful. You become a sudden aunt to so many of your child’s friends (who have no idea of this of course). Knowing this small community brings you understanding of your own relationship with your child/ren. You can pick up so suddenly with parents of these children years later and have conversations of such humanity that the depth within you deepens further.
You look back on your pre-parent days of being a writer, a midnight dancer, a cook, a party/event host, a manager, an educator, a tango dancer and you smile, so glad you did all that and knowing you didn’t give all that up, you just turned a corner and went in a new astounding direction. And you turn to your future and smile again, knowing a whole other set of adventures awaits. Having a child means you step towards new experiences of beauty, love and wonderment. It’s not about loss and replacement but about a new book.
It feels like women who have children do go through hard years of the ‘Groundhog Day’ as we used to call it, but women who don’t have children can also have some hard years too (of grief and/or turmoil of the pressure of deciding). We all get through it in one way or another and life in your 50s can bring a new set of fabulousness.
I could write so much more to advocate for you to have a child (do it! Ha ha ha) but the main thrust of your writing was ‘can I give this up?’ so that’s what I wanted to address.
And yes please speak to your partner ASAP either way. Especially if you think he’s swell. If he was a dipshit and we were here just discussing you having a child on your own then forget about him but you like him so chat with him. Use comments here as a starter for talking. If he refuses to talk well that a bit dipshitty 😂😂
I think becoming a parent is an amazing experience. I had a professor make this distinction to me as a young 20 something. It made a huge impact on me personally. He said, "you cannot have a baby. It is not a thing. Or an object. You are changing your whole life and making a new one. Own it." Small language difference, but illustrates the gravity beautifully. Thanks for sharing with all of us! I think a lot of us wait so long now, but why? Your words really speak well to our collective anxieties as a species. No small feat!