Back in June, I asked you, my dear readers, the following:
Do you want to have kids? If so, why? Or, if you already have kids, why did you have them?
I got a wide range of intelligent replies, which, if you’re new to the site and considering reproducing, might prove good reading. I was reminded of this conversation by Julie, who recently wrote an essay about why (I think) she doesn’t want to have children:
People lie and cheat and steal and hurt each other. They drink too much booze and shoot smack and smoke and they don’t exercise or eat well. They don’t read labels, they don’t ask questions, they don’t try anything new, they don’t ever CHANGE. They run over bunnies and dogs and cats with their stupid fcuking urban SUVs and just keep driving. They litter. They don’t apologize when they bump into you. They don’t say thank you when you hold the door open for them. They have no compassion or kindness or common sense or love or LIFE in their heart. Perhaps I am cynical, but I find a lot of people detrimental to the advancement of the human race, people who are harmful to the hope and belief that we could live in a better place, a more empathic, caring, kind and gentle world.
I can sympathize. I used to think that I didn’t want kids because of the world they’ll be borne into. The common (and pretty irrational) response to that is “but maybe your kids will be the ones to make the world a better place”. Yeah, that’s likely.
Parents talking about giving birth sound to me like the newly-converted talking about their faith. Both groups frequently remark that it’s “the best thing that ever happened to me” or “the most important event in my life”. Yet, I’m rarely able to distill
why how that’s the case. I don’t mean to demean either experience. Rather, I’m just describing my vexation at being on the outside and not being able to see in.