New Years Eve 2018

The end of a year has come.  I'm thankful for three hundred and sixty five happy days gone by.  I'm thankful for the new little kitty that tries to sleep on my face at night.  Last night was his first night in our house after we rescued him from the evil little cage we found him in.

I'm thankful for the warmth of home and the many little comforts I try not to take for granted.  I still do.  It's impossible to fully appreciate anything until it is gone.

I'm thankful for my husband.  We share no responsibility that requires the two of us.  Except maybe the cat.  We stay together because of the rare gift we have.  We are in love.  Maybe we won't stay that way forever, but I hope we do.  I hope we never need children or other obligations to keep us together.

This week I've been reading a thought-provoking book by Iris Krasnow called, "The Secret Lives of Wives."  Iris interviewed many woman who had thrived, survived or, in some cases, endured marriage for many decades.  Each woman opened up about the dynamics of their very unique relational situation and shared secrets they believed helped keep the marriage together.

There's a lot of good advice in that book; a lot of great tips and tricks.  I felt a bit off as I was reading it, as I reached about the half way point.  In one way, my husband and I differ from these other couples.  It is true, they have decades on us in terms of marriage years, but every single one of them have something else that we do not have.  Children.

I've long accepted the baggage that comes along with choosing to forgo childbearing.  People judge you. That's okay.  I'm used to it.  I'm okay with it.  I can even understand it.  I can understand how strange it must be to others who have all shared a common desire to reproduce to meet a couple who does not share this burden, joy, whatever you choose to call it.

There is one thing I do dislike.  Being one of a few select who choose this path in life, I have trouble finding many others out there who can offer advice the way the sages in her book do.  What's worse, it is difficult to find anyone who can offer advice while still accepting our choices.

The choice I've made, and my husband has made, is one that few people can understand and accept.  Most people simply refuse to believe us.

"Just wait a year or two, she'll want kids."

"Maybe he doesn't love you so that's why he doesn't want to give you children."

I get these kinds of comments all the time, to this day, and I'm in my thirties.  It's been a long time and I've spent years waiting for the magical moment when I'll find myself in desperate want of children.  So far, it hasn't happened.  Maybe it will, but I highly doubt it.

Instead of wanting children, I find myself seeking other ways to stay relative and keep myself young.  I take care of other people's children for money.  I'm not doing that anymore but I did for eight years.  I refuse to be that person who doesn't understand.  I may not have kids of my own but I'm not a child-hater.  I am also at a place in life where I feel comfortable with the idea of parenting.  If I accidentally had a child, I wouldn't have a panic attack.  (Well, I would, but I'd get over it.)

I still plan to avoid accidentally having a child.

There are advantages to being childless.  We don't experience the same conflicts that come between parents over children.  We've never endured long weeks with little sleep, scary stays in the hospital or horrible, heart breaking losses.  Not yet.  We wait a little longer.

Maybe some people would suggest we experience all of these things in order to "know for sure."  I don't think we need to torture ourselves to know if our love can last.  Love lasts where there is the will power.  I may not have kids of my own but I had six children who were not my own to care for while my husband spent months working overseas.

That's enough proof for me.

So although I cannot relate in some ways to many of my friends; although I cannot relate to everyone in books.  I'm okay with that.  Maybe I don't need to.  Maybe I'll get there someday and write a story for others out there.  There has to be others out there like me.