My family and I are spending Christmas this year at a resort in Massanutten, Virginia. We usually embark on this trip along with approximately eighty five trillion other Asian families because it's organized by the Chinese school where my mom teaches. As a result, I've been surrounded by kids under half my age or adults over twice my age all weekend.
Despite the lack of fellow twenty-somethings and the really sad/borderline nonexistent ski and snowboarding conditions here in 50-degree Virginia, I've managed to have myself a pretty darn good time. I've been sleeping in, catching up on blogs, working out, negating workouts with massive quantities of food, studying Java, and settling Catan - what more could a girl ask for?
Maybe it's the fact that I've been around so much family, or maybe I am reading too many Mormon mommy blogs, or probably I'm just going a little bit nuts-o, but I've found myself casually pondering about the notion of one day having a family of my own. And after a few days of muttering to myself about it, I've concluded that I still for the life of me cannot really bear (no pun intended) the idea of having children.
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for marriage, I love my family and I like children fine. I go googoo and gaga over babies and yesterday I taught a bunch of kids how to throw and catch a frisbee. Heck, I even tolerate my sister. If that doesn't make me a kid person, I'm not sure what does.
But for me, the cons still outweigh the pros. And here's why.
(Before I start on my diatribe, I want to put the disclaimer out there that these are just the thoughts of a naive and slightly cabin-fevered 22-year old. I'm not trying to wipe out the human race here, people. I'm just explaining my personal reasons/viewpoint on having children in this day and age.)
It's 2011, almost 2012, and I firmly believe the evolved role of the modern educated upper-middle class woman clashes with the traditional family structure of two kids, a golden retriever, and a white picket fence. That setup suited an era of stay-at-home mothers whose roles in society were defined by and devoted their nuclear families. Today, that role has all but disappeared among the majority of women; as such, trying to adhere to that traditional structure is akin to forcing today's square peg into yesteryear's round hole (and expecting it to make dinner and tuck the kids in).
With my degree clutched tight in one hand and my ambitions nestled deep in my heart, I have no intention of pausing my life - my goals, my hobbies, my career - for months to years at a time to give the support a child needs and deserves in his or her first years. I also have no intention of a writing big fat check to somebody every month to fill that parental role while I'm at the office or in another city, wondering if my child has spoken his or her first word yet. I begin to wonder if this "putting my life before creating someone else's" comes off as a bit selfish, but when I think about it, I actually think leading a life devoid of children would motivate me to focus more on my surroundings and the society in which I live than otherwise. Because really, other than to please my baby-adoring mother...what biological obligation do I really have to procreate? It's not like the human race has a problem prolonging our existence in this world. We've pretty much figured out this whole survival-of-the-fittest thing as a race.
What we haven't solved is how play nice with so many of us around. As long as this stark disparity between the haves and have-nots continues to exist in our world, we have not succeeded in co-existing as a species. Why bring another person into the world when so many people who are already alive - children who are already alive - suffer day-to-day? If I can take care of myself and lead a fulfilling life, I know I'd be more likely to find the time and initiative to volunteer or do work for those less fortunate than me. If I didn't have a triage of mouths to feed, I could more readily take a pay cut for a job I truly believed in (e.g: spreading Chipotle across the world). If I somehow managed to balance the career I wanted and miraculously figured out a way of properly caring for one or multiple kids, I'd probably have to bid a reluctant farewell to pursuing my hobbies, much less doing anything for the "greater good".
I could go on and on about this - about what an individual owes to him/herself for personal happiness (for which many involves raising children) versus what an individual owes to his or her society. But I'll cut myself off and move on to the next point: that children are fucking expensive.
Yep. They are. Emotional and physical taxes aside (I won't even get into how horrified I am by childbirth...), having a child means giving up those dolla dolla bills, yo. Every time I see a beautiful baby smiling, a deep and sarcastic corner of my brain (ok, fine, my whole brain) wonders, "how many dollars' worth of diapers, organic baby food, and vomited-stained onesies were used to keep you happy, ya little bugger?" Every kid these days seems to require a laptop, an iPhone, Uggs, a car, and for you to set aside your life savings for a private university to rob eighteen years down the line. Again, sounds selfish but I would rather spend that money on enriching my life or of others around me - others who, once again, already exist on this planet and whose lives need enriching. But you cry, Rose! There are always other cases - scholarships! Selfless children who have jobs! Winning lottery tickets! - but it still seems that those are more the exception than the norm.
My last point: I think the "rewards" of having a child are risky and meager compared with the (sunk) costs. Babies, like puppies, are helplessly adorable and can be touted around for how cute they are. But they're not fully cognizant of everything. And when you reach that sweet sweet age when they do become self-aware... all those lovely human vices we're all born with - greed, envy, acedia, gluttony - must be stamped out and discouraged through repeated "no"s and "don't"s and "you ain't getting any dessert until you stop that, Timmy"s. Then when they really grow aware, at maybe nine or ten, and I acknowledge that I'm taking on a very pessimistic view here - so many kids grow independent and self-centered enough to no longer need their parents as anything but providers, and worse - turn against their parents or incur through life-long problems from neglectful parenting.
Think about it: the term "dysfunctional family" is ubiquitous. So are "daddy issues" and "rough childhoods". Nobody would ever bat an eye if you described your family as dysfunctional - television, the media, everything and everyone in our society has adjusted to the fact that we're should expect to have strained marriages, estranged family, arguments, angry teenagers, etc. It seems to me that as kids are inevitable harbingers of both happiness and unhappiness, but that ratio of good:bad is wholly unpredictable. Even the best-intentioned, most devoted parents can produce children who are hurtful towards their parents or who no matter how hard they are pushed otherwise cannot seem to find solid footing in the game of life.
I think the ultimate gratification or reward of raising a child comes from doing it right; I can imagine how seeing a child bloom into a good, happy individual must feel fulfilling and rewarding. And in one's old age, to have supportive, loving children (and grandchildren) is of course wonderful. But how many years of personal sacrifice, how many hours of anxiety or frustration, and how much money was put into creating that? And in the worst case, if the child doesn't come out "right" or grow into a functioning member of society, how does one live with that feeling of failure persisting for the rest of one's life?
For me in this day and age, the pitfalls of parenting are too great when weighed against the alternatives out there: life still left to live, places to go, people to meet, sights to see, lessons to learn, and perhaps most glaringly: people who are very much alive and who still need help. With all this, I haven't heard a convincing enough reason to box myself into suburbia and create more of my own critters. Adoption is something I'd definitely consider, but procreating, not so much.
...yet. But who knows? Perhaps in a few years, some biological switch will go off and I will change my mind and my uterus will start piping up. ("Um, hello? Gonna fill me anytime soon?") Or maybe it'll be a gradual warming up to the little buggers. Or perhaps as death inevitably creeps a little closer I'll seek that comfort of having kin to keep my latter years happy and fulfilled. In ten years' time I could very well be toting a mini-adidav9, re-reading this entry and laughing about how stubborn and close-minded I was. If there's one thing I've learned about life so far, it's that it takes unexpected turns and that I am an ever-evolving creature. Like a Pokemon.
Despite the lack of fellow twenty-somethings and the really sad/borderline nonexistent ski and snowboarding conditions here in 50-degree Virginia, I've managed to have myself a pretty darn good time. I've been sleeping in, catching up on blogs, working out, negating workouts with massive quantities of food, studying Java, and settling Catan - what more could a girl ask for?
Maybe it's the fact that I've been around so much family, or maybe I am reading too many Mormon mommy blogs, or probably I'm just going a little bit nuts-o, but I've found myself casually pondering about the notion of one day having a family of my own. And after a few days of muttering to myself about it, I've concluded that I still for the life of me cannot really bear (no pun intended) the idea of having children.
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for marriage, I love my family and I like children fine. I go googoo and gaga over babies and yesterday I taught a bunch of kids how to throw and catch a frisbee. Heck, I even tolerate my sister. If that doesn't make me a kid person, I'm not sure what does.
But for me, the cons still outweigh the pros. And here's why.
(Before I start on my diatribe, I want to put the disclaimer out there that these are just the thoughts of a naive and slightly cabin-fevered 22-year old. I'm not trying to wipe out the human race here, people. I'm just explaining my personal reasons/viewpoint on having children in this day and age.)
It's 2011, almost 2012, and I firmly believe the evolved role of the modern educated upper-middle class woman clashes with the traditional family structure of two kids, a golden retriever, and a white picket fence. That setup suited an era of stay-at-home mothers whose roles in society were defined by and devoted their nuclear families. Today, that role has all but disappeared among the majority of women; as such, trying to adhere to that traditional structure is akin to forcing today's square peg into yesteryear's round hole (and expecting it to make dinner and tuck the kids in).
With my degree clutched tight in one hand and my ambitions nestled deep in my heart, I have no intention of pausing my life - my goals, my hobbies, my career - for months to years at a time to give the support a child needs and deserves in his or her first years. I also have no intention of a writing big fat check to somebody every month to fill that parental role while I'm at the office or in another city, wondering if my child has spoken his or her first word yet. I begin to wonder if this "putting my life before creating someone else's" comes off as a bit selfish, but when I think about it, I actually think leading a life devoid of children would motivate me to focus more on my surroundings and the society in which I live than otherwise. Because really, other than to please my baby-adoring mother...what biological obligation do I really have to procreate? It's not like the human race has a problem prolonging our existence in this world. We've pretty much figured out this whole survival-of-the-fittest thing as a race.
What we haven't solved is how play nice with so many of us around. As long as this stark disparity between the haves and have-nots continues to exist in our world, we have not succeeded in co-existing as a species. Why bring another person into the world when so many people who are already alive - children who are already alive - suffer day-to-day? If I can take care of myself and lead a fulfilling life, I know I'd be more likely to find the time and initiative to volunteer or do work for those less fortunate than me. If I didn't have a triage of mouths to feed, I could more readily take a pay cut for a job I truly believed in (e.g: spreading Chipotle across the world). If I somehow managed to balance the career I wanted and miraculously figured out a way of properly caring for one or multiple kids, I'd probably have to bid a reluctant farewell to pursuing my hobbies, much less doing anything for the "greater good".
I could go on and on about this - about what an individual owes to him/herself for personal happiness (for which many involves raising children) versus what an individual owes to his or her society. But I'll cut myself off and move on to the next point: that children are fucking expensive.
Yep. They are. Emotional and physical taxes aside (I won't even get into how horrified I am by childbirth...), having a child means giving up those dolla dolla bills, yo. Every time I see a beautiful baby smiling, a deep and sarcastic corner of my brain (ok, fine, my whole brain) wonders, "how many dollars' worth of diapers, organic baby food, and vomited-stained onesies were used to keep you happy, ya little bugger?" Every kid these days seems to require a laptop, an iPhone, Uggs, a car, and for you to set aside your life savings for a private university to rob eighteen years down the line. Again, sounds selfish but I would rather spend that money on enriching my life or of others around me - others who, once again, already exist on this planet and whose lives need enriching. But you cry, Rose! There are always other cases - scholarships! Selfless children who have jobs! Winning lottery tickets! - but it still seems that those are more the exception than the norm.
My last point: I think the "rewards" of having a child are risky and meager compared with the (sunk) costs. Babies, like puppies, are helplessly adorable and can be touted around for how cute they are. But they're not fully cognizant of everything. And when you reach that sweet sweet age when they do become self-aware... all those lovely human vices we're all born with - greed, envy, acedia, gluttony - must be stamped out and discouraged through repeated "no"s and "don't"s and "you ain't getting any dessert until you stop that, Timmy"s. Then when they really grow aware, at maybe nine or ten, and I acknowledge that I'm taking on a very pessimistic view here - so many kids grow independent and self-centered enough to no longer need their parents as anything but providers, and worse - turn against their parents or incur through life-long problems from neglectful parenting.
Think about it: the term "dysfunctional family" is ubiquitous. So are "daddy issues" and "rough childhoods". Nobody would ever bat an eye if you described your family as dysfunctional - television, the media, everything and everyone in our society has adjusted to the fact that we're should expect to have strained marriages, estranged family, arguments, angry teenagers, etc. It seems to me that as kids are inevitable harbingers of both happiness and unhappiness, but that ratio of good:bad is wholly unpredictable. Even the best-intentioned, most devoted parents can produce children who are hurtful towards their parents or who no matter how hard they are pushed otherwise cannot seem to find solid footing in the game of life.
I think the ultimate gratification or reward of raising a child comes from doing it right; I can imagine how seeing a child bloom into a good, happy individual must feel fulfilling and rewarding. And in one's old age, to have supportive, loving children (and grandchildren) is of course wonderful. But how many years of personal sacrifice, how many hours of anxiety or frustration, and how much money was put into creating that? And in the worst case, if the child doesn't come out "right" or grow into a functioning member of society, how does one live with that feeling of failure persisting for the rest of one's life?
For me in this day and age, the pitfalls of parenting are too great when weighed against the alternatives out there: life still left to live, places to go, people to meet, sights to see, lessons to learn, and perhaps most glaringly: people who are very much alive and who still need help. With all this, I haven't heard a convincing enough reason to box myself into suburbia and create more of my own critters. Adoption is something I'd definitely consider, but procreating, not so much.
...yet. But who knows? Perhaps in a few years, some biological switch will go off and I will change my mind and my uterus will start piping up. ("Um, hello? Gonna fill me anytime soon?") Or maybe it'll be a gradual warming up to the little buggers. Or perhaps as death inevitably creeps a little closer I'll seek that comfort of having kin to keep my latter years happy and fulfilled. In ten years' time I could very well be toting a mini-adidav9, re-reading this entry and laughing about how stubborn and close-minded I was. If there's one thing I've learned about life so far, it's that it takes unexpected turns and that I am an ever-evolving creature. Like a Pokemon.
