I don’t think enough people talk about their indifference to becoming parents. There’s always been a lot of chatter about people’s strong desire to start a family, and there’s a little more nowadays on the choice not to have one. But what about those of us who are (or were) neither here nor there?
I wanted to write this piece because I think it’s ok to not have children. I think it’s ok to not want children. And I think it’s ok to not not want children. It’s also ok to be indifferent to having children, but have one anyway.
Artist: @emmycolletti
It’s not like you need my permission or acceptance either way, but I did wonder if writing these thoughts down might make someone somewhere feel less alone about their decision (or indecision), especially if it wasn’t what society typically expected of you.
Me and mine
Before I go on, I will add the disclaimer that I do now have a baby. I love everything about our little girl and wouldn’t change a thing now that she’s here. But before I got pregnant, I was indifferent to having children. If gone unchallenged, I probably would’ve happily lived my life with only Adam (and most likely some pets).
It’s not that I didn’t ever want to have children; it’s more that I was quite happy with my life and didn’t think a child was necessarily going to improve it. Besides, I had other things in mind like my career and travel and sleeping in on the weekend.
I also spent a lot of time considering the existential dilemma: does the world need more children? And if I did have a baby, would I be bringing them into this world only to experience the demise of our planet? A grim thought, but absolutely a real one that went through my head.
Our decision to not not have children was a relatively passive one in the end. After we got married, Adam and I had a brief discussion that was a bit like deciding what to have for dinner. Here’s how those decisions are often made:
Me: I don’t know what I feel like for dinner tonight. What do you think?
Adam: Should we have salmon? I love salmon!
Me: Hmm, yeah… salmon is nice. I don’t not want salmon. But I know how much you love salmon and I don’t have any better ideas. So yeah, ok then, let’s have salmon.
Adam: 😄💕
In case you didn’t pick up on this from my salmon-for-dinner analogy, Adam was pretty clucky and ready to make babies. I was on the fence, but because neither of us were convinced it was going to be that easy, we decided to let nature decide for us.
As luck would have it, nine months later we found out that we’d be having a baby.
Your kid’s cute, but...
You can love the babies in your family, and those belonging to your friends, but if you look at a baby and don’t feel your ovaries burst (or whatever the man equivalent is), that’s totally ok. That’s always been the case for me, too. I always wanted to hang out with my friends’ and family’s babies because they’re a cool new person in my life, and cute to boot, but I was happy to hand them right back.
Now that we have one of our own though, I’m obsessed. She’s awesome. But if I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t have known how awesome she’d be so I think I would’ve continued on with my life quite happily. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. But that’s my business! And my choice. Just like your decision or ability to have or not have children is your business. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.
The cost of parenthood
Even in 2020, women get a rough time when it comes to balancing work and home life. According to a UK study of parenting during this year’s pandemic by the Institute of Fiscal Studies, of parents who were in paid work prior to the lockdown, mothers are one-and-a-half times more likely than fathers to have either lost their job or quit since the lockdown began. They’re also more likely to have been furloughed. In New Zealand, 11,000 jobs were lost during the June quarter and 90% of those who lost their jobs were women.
To make matters worse, the IFS study suggests that those who have lost their jobs permanently may struggle to find new ones, those who have reduced their hours may struggle to increase them again, and those whose productivity has suffered due to interruptions may be penalised in pay and promotion decisions. The disproportionate decrease in mothers’ paid work now suggests any long-lasting effects will be particularly severe for them.
With pay inequality an issue for women at work in general even before the pandemic struck, it’s no wonder some women aren’t sure about having children.
The sheer cost is enough to put many women off. For example, the government’s statutory maternity pay doesn’t even cover my half of the rent. I’m incredibly fortunate to have some money saved to fill the gap, and even more so that Adam didn’t lose his job or be put on furlough through this whole ordeal. But taking a significant pay cut is tough, especially when you’ve got another human to buy things for. I can’t even begin to imagine how single mothers or families whose earners have lost their jobs cope. Frankly, it’s terrifying.
In case you weren’t aware by the way, if you’re employed in the UK, statutory maternity pay is 90% of your normal salary for the first 6 weeks, and then around £150 per week (or 90% of your average weekly earnings, whichever is lower) for the next 33 weeks. That’s assuming you’re employed full time. And I can confirm, it doesn’t go far!
Going on maternity for nine months leaves you with around £870 per month. But the average cost of rent in the UK is around £980 per month, according to HomeLet Rental Index. You don’t have to be a mathematician to see that there’s a problem there for anyone living on a single income.
Consider then the cost of childcare when (and if) mothers do go back to work. According to Money Advice Service, the average cost of full time childcare in the UK is £252 per week. Assuming you get four weeks’ holiday every year where you can look after your own child (and you only have one), you’re spending around £12,000 per year.
The average UK salary is around £36,000 and considering the average cost of rent as noted above, that leaves the average Briton with about £235 per week for council tax, bills, groceries, clothing and whatever else they and their children need.
If you’ve never even considered whether you can afford to have children, take a moment to take that all in. Read it again if you have to.
Career concerns
Aside from the immediate financial impact, the fear of losing career momentum and missing opportunities while on maternity leave is a very real one for a lot of women. A lot can change in 12 months.
I love my job and put a lot of time and energy into my work, so for a long time I couldn’t imagine taking a break to have a baby, as I wondered how it might affect my career progression. It wasn’t until I actually left on maternity leave that the fear abated, in part thanks to some reassurance from my employer but mostly because I had faith in my abilities and in my industry that I would make things work eventually. Although, the fear of falling behind still lingers in the background.
Whatever situation you’re in with your career or with money, and whatever decision you make in terms of whether or not to have children, just know that it’s only you that can make the right decision for you. It just doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Everyone’s situation is different and you have to put yourself and your family first.
The existential dilemma
A contentious topic, and one which I spent a lot of time thinking about, was the impact of a growing population on the health of our planet and how I would be contributing towards this by having a baby. The global population has grown from about 3 billion in 1960 to around 7.8 billion today in 2020.
The effect of human consumption on the environment is undeniable and yet we continue to have children and our life expectancy continues to increase.
At what point should we proactively consider the planet’s ability to sustain continuous population growth? Thankfully, the total fertility rate, which is a measure of the number of live births per woman, has dropped from 4.90 in 1960 (it peaked at 5.02 in 1965) to 2.47 today, so we’re doing a bit better at slowing things down. There needs to be at least 2.1 live births per woman to sustain our current population levels though, and a drastic decrease in the fertility rate has issues of its own.
I think there’s a lot more to this particular conversation and I want to delve a lot deeper into this subject at some point. But it has always been a really conflicting issue for me. And while our individual actions collectively affect the world around us, I firmly believe that the decision to have children has always got to be a personal one, because it’s still our biological right to have children.
As you already know, human nature won out for us in the end. So all I can say now is that I am committed to raising my child as best as I can to care about our planet and humanity. I’ll do everything I can to help her grow up to be a kind, thoughtful member of society. And I’ll cross my fingers that parents of my generation will do the same.
TL;DR
Not sure if you want children? That’s cool. You don’t have to decide right now.
Don’t want children? That’s cool, too. You don’t have to have them.
Do want children? Awesome! Do your best to raise them to be good people. But I hope you’ve got some money in the bank!