Wait, why am I doing this again?

Gambling on the bigger life

Among the long stream of childhood family dinners, one from my high school years stands out. I don’t remember the food we ate or the conversation that prompted this particular declaration, but I do remember telling my parents not to expect grandchildren from me. My reasoning went something like this: to be a good mom, you have to stay home with your kids. I want a career—this conversation would have taken place during the years I vaguely aspired to do something in international relations—therefore, parenthood isn’t for me.

another con: children are CHAOS AGENTS

There are numerous flaws in this reasoning, but it wasn’t totally bonkers. My own mother, who I slotted firmly in the “good mom” camp, stayed home with me and my sister until I was about 13. Most of the moms I knew best—through friends, girl scouts, church—had also taken long breaks from the paid workforce to focus on childrearing. My understanding of the “Mommy Wars” raging between at-home and employed women was hazy at best, but I had clearly intuited that there was something suspicious about mothers who dropped their children at daycare or turned them into the dreaded latchkey kids.

Over the ensuing decades my stance on parenthood softened from “no” to “probably not” to “I’m really not sure”—though I stayed in that last camp for a particularly long time. I could write several essays, and perhaps someday will, about the drivers of that evolution. For now, I want to focus just on that final step, from ‘idk’ to ‘I’m doing it.’ Partly because I’ve long resented that people seem to think it’s fine to ask nosy questions about the choice not to have a child, yet leave the arguably wilder choice to become a parent unscrutinized. And partly because I could really use a refresher on Past Me’s thinking, as Current Me is frequently unimpressed with her judgment.