The measure of success...

Am I crazy for not wanting children?

Sometimes I wonder...
When I was about 10 I remember being in my beloved grandmother's kitchen and she mentioned something about when I would grow up and would have children of my own. I remember the moment almost as if it were yesterday, when she said it I was aghast. "But, Grammma, I don't want kids! I'm never having kids!" I protested firmly, as if I already knew then. Maybe I did. I had plenty of chances, but it never happened. I didn't pine so much for it, as I did for a spouse. I wanted marriage and security, someone to grow old with, build a home with and lovingly read bits of the newspaper to over coffee every morning, but children never really factored that much into it. I pictured a lovely home filled with art and books, and a mature deeply loving relationship that filled every need. I thought about kids, but it wasn't the yearning that a lot of my friends expressed. For me, it was always more of a vague concept...
I thought of a little beachy sandy-footed blonde girl who loved to draw. A little me. It was a nice thought... until the baby in the booth next to me would start screaming bloody murder and the thought vanished fast and violent, like so much shrapnel into the atmosphere. Nope, crying and noise was not for me. Neither is a giant belly, hopped up hormones or sore nipples. I would be intolerable. They'd have to lock me up in a barn somewhere where my loved ones would not have to hear me moaning and complaining.

To paraphrase from a recent article I read, "There are those who neatly mark all their accomplishments in life by family position and children - a universally recognized measure. And what if you (gasp!) don't have children or a spouse? Then, you'll need to find another purpose, another measure by which to judge whether or not you have been a successful human being? And that is a very frightening road less traveled (even more frightening to society than to those traveling it!)". Here I am, in the time when most people are watching their kids grow up and out of the house, and I still have never even been married. I'm still working on my art, my career, I'm working toward buying my first house, and that's my number one real goal at the moment. I don't need a mini me... I'm still working on me! There are even those who call this sort of thing "selfish". This really puzzles me. Isn't bringing yet another life into this dreadfully overpopulated earth even more selfish? When the world's resources are being eaten up at a break-neck speed and will be depleted by the time our offspring reach middle age, why would I want to bring a lovely little new life into that? I would take it one step further and say that people should pass some sort of competency test before they are allowed to have kids. Heck, you need a driver's license just to be able to drive, how much more important is raising a child?
Furthermore, since I'm older, perhaps I would die when my child only was in their 20's or 30's. Having just lost my mother, I am not willing to put another person through that particular circle of hell. On the other hand, I wish I could have given my beautiful mother a grandchild, and if I had, would her life have been changed or saved? I often think it would have. Something fresh, new and fragile to love and protect. Something to offset the HELL of having a life-long drug addicted son. She really wanted grandchildren and I regret not being able to give that to her.

Women's magazines are notorious for pigeon-holing women into the mother role. We, as women are just supposed to want children according to society. I wonder why there is hardly anything written for the growing population of people like me who do not have children - most of them by choice. For the record, as a woman, I equate having a child (my own) with emotional and financial bankruptcy - I don't think I'd have the stamina or the financial resources. I cherish the kids in my life and my "chosen" role as the cool auntie. Yesterday I babysat for Etta and had such a nice time with her. She's a lovely beautiful little soul, inside and out, and I can't wait to see who she becomes. But when she went home I closed the door to my room and lied down before having to go to work. I cherished every second of quiet. It felt like a balm to my soul. But this is not about Etta. She is not the reason for my decision. I think I made that decision when I was 10. It's just who I am. It makes perfect sense for my life.
Sometimes I still encounter child-bearing friends who say things like "But you don't like kids..." No, I love them, (in small doses). I just don't want my own!