Is There Something Wrong With Me That I Don’t Want A Baby?

Jeff in a comment wanted more personal stuff. So how’s this?

I am 34 years old and from what I understand I only have a few more years in which I can safely and successfully have a baby. I am happily married, we have bought a house, and we are managing our finances. I am a maternal person, and I have been told by several people (including students) that I would be a good mom. But I don’t think I want one.

I thought about it abstractly before we got married, not adversely. Then I forgot about in the wedding and honeymoon fun. It didn’t seem important.

The first sign of trouble was when I got back to work. I was astounded when acquaintances would ask me if I were pregnant yet. It made me want to ask them if they had started a diet yet.

Then the first holidays came up. My in-laws were clearly waiting for it to happen. My father also seemed impatient.

I am an ornery person. I regularly get turned off of something the more I am pushed to do it. The reproducing pressure annoyed me just because I was married. They seemed like two different questions – finding the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and choosing to bring a child into the world?

But I don’t think the outside pressure could explain my cooling of the maternal urge.

About a year ago, there was a chance that I could be pregnant. I started wondering – is this a sign? Is this fate telling me that we were ready?

The test takes one minute. During the waiting time I suddenly got a gut-wrenching panicked feeling “OH NO!! I might be PREGNANT!!”

I guess I wasn’t ready.

Last summer we met our brand new nephew. My sister-in law seemed exhausted. The kid was cute, but wrinkly. I wasn’t sold on the joys of motherhood. (My mother pointed out I didn’t call him by name – not a good sign)

We bought the house last fall and I started decorating it. I was “nesting” but I still wasn’t sure I wanted eggs. I hung out with Kalani (my nephew) several more times and he was fun to hold and play with. But I didn’t have to feed or clean or change or put him to sleep. Nor did I want to.

Just in the last week I have dealt with several students who have been trying to deal with bad home lives. Kids who have abusive or abandoning or abused parents that they try to endure or work around. I make calls for them, hug them, be there for them. My heart aches with their pain.

Do I not want kids because I feel like a mother to dozens? I have worked hard not to bring the ache home to my husband, to make sure I can help them without drowning myself. I feel like I need to help all of my students know that they have a safe place to come to, to counteract the effect of shitty parenting.

Or maybe I am just selfish. I was at barbecue yesterday and we were talking about our past trips and the new one we are planning to Vegas. The host said “When you have kids, that all goes out the window.” And without thinking I replied, “Why do you think we don’t?”

He (and others) talked about babies like they were inevitable and joking about the sacrifice. But why should I sacrifice money, sleep, time and freedom for someone that I will always have to worry about? Kids get hurt and screwed up in the best of families. I would have to protect them.

I have seen many women in their mid-30’s go crazy about having a baby. Is there something wrong with me that I don’t have that? Did I miss a special pill they give out that gives me the pull?

What if it’s the wrong decision? I can’t change my mind once I have the damn thing. But what if I realize in 20 years that I should have? Or always wonder what I missed?

Time is running out. I love children and I do want to make sure that the children of the world are safe and happy. But one in my own house? I can barely take care of myself. And I just don’t feel it.