Talking to Women About Kids
Hi. This is neither a #Q15 nor a #TIBIQ and thus, it’s an extra edition rant/discussion/open letter about talking to women about kids. This came up during a lesson with my Spanish tutor who insisted I write a post about it so, Caro, aqui tiene.
Real talk: I am in my mid-thirties. I have zero children. One thing that I’ve always been grateful for is that my immediate family has never put any pressure on me, individually, to date or get married or really to do anything. I should probably ask about the reason for that but Papa Jose has indicated that it’s because “no one can tell you what to do anyways”. Which…fair. On the other hand, people who don’t know me very well and feel the need to: 1) Ask where my husband is*; and; 2) Ask when we’re having children.
So, here’s the thing about this question. I’ve also asked my friends, normally those who have previous indicated they want to have children when they are going to try for children. I ask this, not out of a pressure-y thought that they have to but rather out of an honest curiosity as a person who struggles with the question herself. And in the last five years, the answer has generally been “ we HAVE been but it’s not happening” and some space to let that close friend talk about that. I think the world is doing a slightly better job at understanding that one and three women have miscarriages and that a lot of couples have fertility issues at the first, second or third go-around. I think think the space to talk about how difficult it is to get pregnant in the first place is critically important and the space to talk about how hard it is when a pregnancy terminates is equally as critical. I’m so proud of the women in my life who have been able to share their stories and normalize this pain that women and couples go through EVERY DAY.
That, however, is not the space that I’m talking about today. There are a lot of other women who have: chosen not to have children, would love to children if they find the right partner but haven’t yet or who are wildly undecided about the whole thing. I’m proud of the women in that first group - to have made a decision and to be sure of it. I’m simply not part of that group. I am entirely empathetic to the second group - the “I get how this gets done but don’t see doing it by myself group” and hate that people expect them to what? Settle for anyone to get the job done? In the latter group, however, you find us. I want so much for women who want to have children, to be able to have them. The mothers in my life are the most wonderful, bad-ass moms I could possibly hope to know. And as their friend, I love spending time with their kids and knowing them in this powerful role - it literally brings tears to my eyes thinking of how much love there is there. On the other hand, I’m under ZERO biological obligation to birth a human simply because I (potentially) can. I’m also deeply in love with my life, my relationship with my spouse, family and friends and a sense of freedom that I’ve cultivated over a lifetime of hard work.
So, every time I go to a family party and the question is, not from a well-meaning friend or loving relative who knows we’ve wrestled with the question, but from presumptive cousin of a cousin, “when are you having kids?” I feel resentful. Apparently, the minute I got married how my career or my life or my dreams are going are irrelevant. The fact that I have a wonderful family and the many children in our life bring us so much joy, is not enough. If you don’t know the person who you’re asking…then you shouldn’t ask. And it’s not just the Facebook post reason about people who may have been trying and are heartbroken. But for the rest of us, too, who don’t know what the next adventure will be but worked hard to get today: Mind your own damn business. I, for SO many reasons, am not defined by gender - I am only defined by the the limits of what I think I can do.