The "To Have or Not to Have (Children)" Blog

When I was in high school, you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hearing these words echoed in every public speaking engagement and graduation speech: “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…And I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” (courtesy of Robert Frost, in his famous poem, ‘The Road Not Taken.’) The significance of that poem is that it ignited my strong desire to always make my life about the road that was taken, not the road that wasn’t. “No regrets! C’est la vie,” became my carefree college days motto.

I find myself at the crossing where the road diverges into two paths: To have or not to have my own children? It had never occurred to me until recently that I would ever consider not being a mother. Between being the eldest child used to barking after my younger brothers and having the innate “nurturing” gene that made me a good teacher/mentor and an even better babysitter to any young ‘uns you threw at me, I couldn’t help but imagine myself becoming a good mother “one day.” I was recently honored with the privilege of becoming a godmother to my best friend's firstborn son and spent two weeks taking care of her and the baby in its 6th week. Despite the countless diapers changed, incessant inconsolable crying, and the "up at all hours" schedule, I only had to look into his cute eyes (when he was calm of course) and think, "Yeah, I could get used to this. Maybe I should order myself one of these."

That “one day” decision has come because for awhile now, my biological clock has been ticking despite the shrill protesting from my brain. My brain is approaching the situation very logically, but not without heart.

1) I already have two stepkids that I love very much—it’s the best of both worlds, despite the aching I feel when we have to separate. I can be a part-time mom and still devote my life to other pursuits that occupy my energies and time: career, marriage, etc.

2) Why pile on more than I can currently handle? It is clear to me that my natural inclination would be to place priority on child over spouse (crying baby vs. grumpy sex-deprived spouse? Not a hard one for most new mothers). It is also extremely important for me to feel emotionally comfortable about the stability of our marriage and the situation with my stepkids (adopted kids with divorced parents) before bringing more children into the picture. Financially, it doesn’t make sense—since we support 2 already. Children are a tremendous long-term responsibility. Being a worrier, I worry about how I can protect and understand my children in a growing, changing society that is forcing parents to leash their kids for fear of pedophiles and predators and protecting them from bad influences, be it sex for eleven year olds, drugs or alcohol.

3) Selfishly, I think about the other things I want to do in my life that would be relegated to a place some twenty years into the future if children came into the picture. I think economists call it “opportunity cost.” I have always wanted to devote my life to leisure travel, writing, and freelance consulting for businesses and schools. I envision that that life is filled with children, too--perhaps not mine, but certainly those that I know in my family and among friends (including Alexis & Ryan, my godson Sammy Jr, and the children of my cousins & friends) and those that I will come to know in my social network and through volunteering (students, etc.).

We are brought up believing that life follows a linear path in one direction: we are born, grow up, marry, have our own kids, send them off to college, become grandparents, get old, die. In the movie: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Brad Pitt is born old and gets younger (aka hotter) as he ages. The lives take different turns and yet it doesn’t deter from its message: Life is what you make it, whichever path you take. I always wondered why Robert Frost chose to name his poem, “The Road Not Taken” when life is about the road we do end up taking, whether or not it is a path well-trodden.



A life without my own children is a deliberate path, and certainly a road less traveled. And yet, once I could get over the initial fear of its uncertainty , I am sure I would find that this life would not be empty or devoid of meaning at all--but in fact, full of meaning, because it is exactly what I have made it.