The question My husband and I are both in our mid-30s and got married last year. Now we’ve found that societally (and predictably), the conversation has pivoted to, “When are you going to have children?”
We have discussed this a lot together and are not sure if we want to have children or not. I don’t doubt that we would be fantastic parents and would tackle the inevitable challenges that come up as we are both on the same page with our parenting philosophies, but at this stage our “cons” list outweighs the “pros”.
It’s an emotive topic to bring up with friends and family – I wouldn’t at this stage tell my mum that I was on the fence about it, because I don’t want to upset her – but I can’t have children just because my parents want grandchildren. Should I speak to a therapist to try to figure out where I really stand on it?
There are seemingly endless people able to advise if we were struggling to have a child, but I’m really interested to explore the step before that. Help!
Philippa’s answer Whether to have children is not really a decision you make using reason, it’s more emotional and instinctual. If your genes are screaming, “Reproduce!” they usually get their way if it’s biologically possible. When I think of myself as a mother, now that I’m 66, I feel as if my daughter is my anchor, my closest relative, sort of like a home. She and I are independent from each other, but we are good friends and I fantasise that when her dad and I are dead, she will lose her closest relatives – and my ghost would worry for her more if she was without her own child. There! Now that is daft! But that is my irrational grandma broodiness talking, which luckily my daughter will not consider – like you are sensibly doing – when she makes her own decision.
Perhaps it’s better not to listen to me and my sentimentalising over motherhood, which is easy to do when I’m out the other side and can only remember cuddling my bundle of joy, the euphoria of milestones and my wonderful adult-to-adult relationship with her. I’m like a football fan who can only remember the goal and forgets about the other tedious 90 minutes of the match. There is much that is often experienced as worrying and wearisome about parenting, and life loses much of its freedom, spontaneity and adult leisure time. Some brave people have now found each other and formed groups on the internet to confidentially share their stories of regret about becoming parents. There is, for example, a Facebook group called, “I regret having children.” Maybe have a peek at such a group. By all means try therapy (welldoing.org) to get to know yourselves better, and perhaps this book might also help: Motherhood, Is It For Me? by Denise Carlini and Ann Davidman.
If neither of you is broody, if you don’t long for this intimate tie, then there is no reason you should reproduce. Being a parent is a 24/7 responsibility, a mind and body hijack, it can be difficult even to have your own thoughts at times, and with every generation there seems to be more to worry about. You can try reading my book, The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read, but remember children do not come with any guarantees. However, my personal regret is that I didn’t have more. I was poring over it like you are doing now, about having a second, but we were not particularly well off then, I was enjoying being back at work and we decided not to. I mean, I’m not ripping my hair out and weeping over that decision, but I do have mild regrets. I wish I’d had six. But had I done so I probably would not be writing this now as it’s less likely I would have had my career. We’ve only got one life and deciding how best to spend it means sacrificing some things so we can have other things.
Often, other parents, including grandparents, want you to have children so you join their club. If you make the same choices as them, they may feel better about the choices they made. Do you want to join that club?
For some, bringing up a child brings the most meaningful, wonderful purpose to their own lives and I feel I’m in that category. For a few others, it is a sacrifice that with hindsight they wish they had not made. And hindsight, right now, is something you cannot have. Whatever you decide, there is a risk you’ll wish you decided differently. The risk needs accepting.
I think your personal inclination for either a child-free existence or for being a parent must take precedence over any cultural and societal expectations. Try to separate your inclination and their expectations, and by doing that, you may find out what it is you really want. Therapy may help, talking it over may help, understanding more about other people’s experiences – favourable and unfavourable – may help. Sometimes, in the end, ambivalent parents-to-be become parents because they “forgot” about contraception a few times. I think when one “forgets” like this, it is your body making up your mind for you. It may be hard to think about this dilemma in a purely rational way.
Philippa Perry’s The Book You Want Everyone You Love* To Read *(and maybe a few you don’t) is published by Cornerstone at £18.99. Buy it for £16.14 at guardianbookshop.com
Every week Philippa Perry addresses a personal problem sent in by a reader. If you would like advice from Philippa, please send your problem to askphilippa@guardian.co.uk. Submissions are subject to our terms and conditions
