Stop asking when I am going to make babies!
I was incredibly joyful about finally being married. And then ... the questions started.
After almost a year (which felt like light years, to be honest) of dealing with sub-standard contractors, renovation and wedding planning hiccups, and the opinionated opinions – you know you have a problem when your opinions have opinions – of both friends and family, I finally have peace.
Peace! Wonderful peace, with a capital 'P'! No one is asking me to do 17,436,275 things at once or to make 8,236,756 decisions concurrently.
So you can imagine how much this peace is upset when someone pops the now-dreaded question: "So, when are you going to make babies?"
It upsets me even more when I’m not taken seriously when I say "Never". Which part of "never" isn’t comprehensive?
And then, just to rationalise my ‘never’, I get the followings statements:
"Why? You and G would make incredibly good looking children!"
Firstly, I refuse to go through nine months of purgatory and another 48 hours of hell just because
the baby in my belly would come out "good looking". If I wanted "good looking", I would flip through photos of my husband.
"Why? Babies are so cute!"
Secondly, babies are not cute. If I wanted "cute", I would go and look at puppies. It’s absolutely
ridiculous that I should have a baby simply because I wanted something "cute" in my life. Oh and by the way, our dog, Shadow, is all the "cute" I need, thank you very much.
"Why? Then you’ll have someone to care for you when you’re old!"
This is perhaps the single, most shameful reason to have children. If this is your reason for making babies, you’re an awful human being. Awful! Yes, it would be great to have a family member listen when you repeat a story for the 123,567,365th time in two hours, but that’s just being self-centred. You have children because you want to provide for them, not the other way around.
"Why? Have babies! I will look after them for you."
Why would I want to make a baby and let anyone else take care of it? I’d much rather not give birth in the first place. Secondly, I doubt anyone will be willing to take my place at 12am (and 2am, and 4am, and 6am) to feed and burp the screaming tot (or at any other time, for that matter). So, don’t make promises you can’t keep, because there’s more to having a baby than meets the eye.
"Why? Have babies! Your parents will look after them for you."
They most certainly will not.
"You’re still young; maybe you will want a baby in a few years."
I don’t disagree with this. But I am extremely cynical.
Give me a break – it has barely been two months since I signed my freedom away! I’ve worked for almost a year to achieve the wonderful, joyful, peace I have now, so you’re insane if you think I’m about to destroy it with a wailing, whimpering creature that’s only interested in my breasts and its poop.
Nine months of purgatory and 48 hours of hell comes at a price. At a recent baby shower, G’s colleague shared that his daughter, who was recently born, had already set him back $15,000.
Then, I think of what comes after birth – three months of sleepless nights, five years of incessant questions, seven years of battling through school, and then (at least) eight years of teenage sullenness – and shudder with great abandon.
Alisa Chopard is a writer and a lover of all things satisfying, including good food and fabulous fashion.