For us, having kids wasn’t something we needed to be happy.
It was an enhancement of existing happiness.
It was an integrated decision. Money? Not terribly important to us on a functional ‘spend it to get stuff’ level, more of an expendable resource we were willing to expend on children. Responsibility? Yes, and one we were comfortable with. Impulse-to-have-them-wise? Intellectually, we felt we could handle parenthood, were interested in sharing our lives with children for whom we were functionally and materially responsible. Emotionally, we felt we would get satisfaction from the experience, encounter events and reactions we might not have in other experiences, and have enough love to go around. Physically, we were able, and the drive to procreate was there. Spiritually, it felt like something that would provide an opportunity for joy, awe, humility, and connection. We didn’t break it out like that at the time, but those were the reasons.
Don’t you make all your decisions for the same reasons? Integrating all the aspects, and coming to a conclusion that satisfies you? That’s what we did.
And it paid off. There are risks. And there are ugly parts. And there are days when we go to bed exhausted both emotionally and physically. But the love is far more than worth it enough - and not just the love in return, but the love given by us to them, the heart-bursting, ache-to-the-core, eyes-brimming-over, just-have-to-hug-someone-NOW LOVE, simply from hearing a single small individual laugh. The ‘I thought I knew how much my parents loved me but I had not the barest flicker of an idea how intense, powerful, deep, and abiding the feeling could be’ love. The giving my mom a thank-you card after my son was born, because I finally GOT it, love. The willing to walk in front of a bus fully knowing it will kill me for the sake of someone else love. Powerful, potent, life-altering, humbling, boundary-obliterating, exhilerating, awe-inspiring love.
Worth it.
Worth sleepless nights. Worth the agony of driving to the emergency room not knowing if my child is still breathing in the back seat. Worth the foulest poopy diaper, and there have been some really truly foul ones. Worth being late to work more often than on time. Worth releasing the pre-child dreams of breeding horses. Worth re-arranging my entire garden in order to fit a gym-swingset into the yard. Worth discussing yet again why we don’t buy things just to make you feel better. Worth the mommy-bear rage in response to a bully hitting my child. Worth handling broken hearts and anger and grief. Worth all the ick.
Becoming a parent, fully and completely, whether by accident or choice, is a truly wonderful, amazing, potent experience. It isn’t the only one out there. It isn’t necessary to our existance. It isn’t advisable for everyone. And many people do it without diving into it fully, do it half-way, or badly, or use it as a way to express their own pain on someone else. And others dive in and find the waters are icy and full of sharks. Some of those manage to build boats and fend off serious injury. Some of them regret ever jumping. Many, even with serious injury, do not.
Why? Why anything. Why take up surfing? Because it brings you joy, and you can afford or are willing to take the risks, even if you can’t completely afford them. Why go to school? Because it satisfies something you want from your life, even if you don’t know if you will succeed. You do it because you anticipate the benefits to be greater than the risks, in some way. And if you assess and find that the risks are greater than the benefits, you choose not to. And if you find yourself facing the choice in the moment whether you like it or not, you choose again - to take on the risks, or not to.
I respect people who choose not to have kids. The difficulties are great enough that anyone would be considered foolish to take it on when they are unwilling to face the risks, period. No, it isn’t easy and fun all the time. I’d be considered foolish to take on scuba diving with an expectation that I’d never be at risk, too, or without learning about them. But if you are willing to move forward despite your fears and concerns, despite the risks and dangers, despite the annoyances and frustrations, because you see the joys as the greater side of the equation, you go for it. Just the same, you know you are willing to be a parent when the difficulties and fears no longer stop you from planning, trying, or moving forward with parenthood.
As for your list:
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The world is overpopulated.
And all decisions are based on global awareness? You drive yourself to work? The air is over-polluted, too. Do you ever ride a plane? They pollute. Do you recycle everything? The landfills are overflowing. Do you make all your decisions based on how they will impact the world as an absolute? Or do you moderate your risks, shift the balance where you can, and make decisions based on your personal assessment of how much impact you are making, not on the absolute assessment of someone else or everyone as a whole? -
I don’t want to pass on my weaknesses to any offspring.
*Good. Great, in fact. I don’t, either. Funny thing about offspring, they don’t inherit everything exactly the way you are now. And you know, even inherited weaknesses can be moderated. If they are non-genetic, like bad upbringing or emotional issues, you can learn. And heck, you never know. I have strong teeth. My husband has strong teeth. Our kids have soft teeth. But we also know how to take care of them. Information and education are wonderful things. I have asthma, neither child has asthma. I have poorly developed joints and defective collagen. Neither child has either issue. My husband has a non-perfect spine (developmentally), neither child has that issue. ::Shrug::
Beyond that, I have strengths that don’t pass on, either. And some that do. But the greatest thing I pass on is how to think, how to handle problems effectively, the skills of approaching life with a positive attitude, of finding joy in little things and big ones, of relating to others, of empathy and compassion. Hardly a bad thing, IMHO. *
3. Having children means I must be responsible for them. Ewww!
Then don’t. If you ever feel the responsibility is worth it, then you will feel it is worth it. The ewww reaction is uncalled for. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a parrot, myself, but I’d hardly say ‘ewww’ about it. If you are squeamish about it, stay off the topic as save your squirming for someplace where we don’t have to hear it.
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Any money I make is mine and doesn’t have to be squandered on some stupid college fund.
*Go play. Have fun. My money is mine, and I choose to spend it, just like you do. I like making it grow. I like the idea that I will be able to help someone else with my money. My parents didn’t have a college fund for me, and I just finished paying off my student loans this year. We will have a fund for our kids. How nice. Like charity! Feel free to spend yours (though I recommend a good retirement fund, so you can spend more of it when you get old). Play responsibly. * -
My parents don’t get to gloat over me suffering for the same reasons they suffered.
Boy, you must have had mean parents. I don’t gloat, it is unkind. Rather, I rejoice when my child doesn’t have to suffer the same things, and I commiserate when they do. -
I am extremely happy with my life now. I don’t want to change that or screw it up by having kids.
Well, duh. Don’t change anything if it is perfect. But life isn’t static. You, yourself aren’t static. You learn, you grow, you change. So do we all. What I wanted when I was a teen is not what I wanted when I was in my 20’s, and not what I want now. My life has been perfect many times in that span. But I wouldn’t go back to any one of them, change the current wonderful for the previous one. When your life shifts, your self shifts, your expectations shift, your goals shift, your desires shift, you are then going to reassess, and reassess again, each time. You may never find that having kids is a bonus to where you are. Or you may. But just because my life is happy doesn’t mean that it won’t be happier with children. I didn’t need to get married to be happy, either. I was happy with my love life the way it was. It just shifted and marriage was something we felt was an appropriate addition to our happiness, and sure enough, we were happier with it. If we hadn’t been, oh well, life is about learning and trying things, and adulthood is about doing so responsibly, isn’t it? If that means kids is a responsible choice, then it is. And if it isn’t, where’s the question? -
The world is not in optimum condition right now, why bring some poor innocents into it?
When has the world been in optimum condition? Not my mom’s generation. Not the one before, or the one before that. There’s always war, or poverty, or disease somewhere. There’s always inequity, conflict, or despair. And there is also always charity, kindness, grace. There are always people trying to make it better, people being kind, people trying to change the world in a good way. That hasn’t changed, either. My generation fears terrorism randomly taking away someone we love. My parent’s generation feared nuclear war, and theirs feared epidemic disease. The name of the fear changes, but the fact that life is not a guarantee of happiness has not. The fact that our world is always at risk, that random or non-random events can hurt us has always been true. If you are waiting for perfect, have fun, and let me know when it happens. In the meantime, I have children, not as an act of hope, but an expression of the knowledge that there is good as well as bad, and everyone has to navigate that, no matter who they are. -
I am very childlike myself, and I have noticed that people that have children lose a lot of that sense of wonder. I would rather remain forever a kid.
I’m with the ones who find that as much as I had wonder and joy before, it is redoubled and redoubled now that I have kids. Yes, there are responsible thoughts, fears and concerns, serious moments and deep thoughts. And there is also the joy of rainbows, and finding worms on a wet sidewalk, of the very first snowstorm, over again. The visceral response to food, the hysterical joy of pretending, the awe of learning something new. I get to see it all and do it all again. And I get to do it like the first time, again. Stomping in puddles, laughing freely, without a flicker of social awareness about being inappropriately childlike as an adult - I have a child with me, and that makes me exempt. People laugh and wave as I stomp along behind my child, down the sidewalk for the fourth time, soaked to the knees. What gets better than that?