Not everyone with a vagina should be a mum; I doubt I want to be one. Kids cry and scream and poop and make you mad and give you sleepless nights, although sometimes cute. Having a kid is one of the greatest gambles as no one can determine how their kid will turnout.
Hi, my name is S and the thought of having kids scares me shitless.
If I have a kid she’ll probably inherit my dirty mind, little feet, freckled nasal area, insomnia, my distorted view on everything. Will my kid love fashion and have great style? What if it turns out to be a boy and he can’t covet the magnificence that is my vast shoe collection. My kid has to be a fashionista or I may love her less. On the brighter side she’d have my eyes, I have beautiful eyes. But what if she looks more like her father, will I love her less? I don’t want to transmit my inability to sleep to an innocent child, for I’m sure she’ll have it too. I wish the world came in black or white, either this or that, not color, the colour increases the complexities in life, I hate that, but I want my baby girl to see beautiful colours of the rainbow.
How will I react when my daughter starts having sex? Dear kid, if I ever have you, don’t come and tell me you are pregnant, I’d never recover from it. I’m barely holding my own trying to raise you; it’d be too difficult for me now trying to mesh into the role of being a grandmother too.
I’m scared that my baby girl will experience sexual assault, like her mother. I don’t want her to experience life-shattering pain that is accompanied with being defiled by someone you love and trust. The possibility that she is prone to such dangers scares me beyond anything in the world.
I want to have a life, I can’t be responsible for another human life when I wake every morning trying to figure out my life and take responsibility for MY own actions. It’s too great a risk. I want an almost perfect kid if I do have a kid. When God asks me “what did you do with the child I gave you?” I don’t want my answer to be that I screwed it up.
I don’t want to be one of those working mothers who barely have time for their kids, why be a parent if you’re going to be absent? I don’t want to be one of those mothers who doesn’t know their kids favourite colour. I don’t want a baby sitter if I decide to have a kid, I don’t want someone else touching MY baby girl, raising MY baby girl, growing to love MY baby girl.
I don’t want a kid; it means automatically intentionally or not placing so much pressure on her. Everyone including myself unfortunately will expect her to be better than me, beat my record. But what if she fails? Will she ever recover from it?
If I do have a kid, I’d pray for her more than I pray to breathe because I’ll need her to be great, greater than I, need her to be a better, more powerful version of myself so I don’t regret the time she spent in my womb. I want to know that an improved version of me came out of me. I’ll want to give her everything she wants even if it kills me but I probably won’t.
I don’t want to bring a kid into this world that has more sorrows than joys, I don’t want my baby girl to feel pain, but the truth is, she will feel pain, not the kind of pain you have when you get a Brazilian and can’t walk straight or have sexy time for days.
Too many people have kids for the wrong reasons; I hear my peers talk about birthing kids like it’s the prime of life, but really it’s not. You can’t afford trial and error with parenting; it’s a child’s life that’s at stake here. Too many kids in the world hate their parents and regret decisions made on their behalf, I’d hate for mine to be one of them.
I doubt I’d be a good mum, I don’t see myself mothering, I do see myself in a shooting range on Friday night sipping on wine or writing reviews for whatever Marvel movie has just come out. I will however be big best Zeus-damn big sister to my siblings and god-mum to y best friend’s kids and that is enough for me.
The thing is everyone thinks they’ll be a good parent, but at the end of the day, only few are. Some think they are training their kid right but actually maybe killing that child. Hitler’s mum had no idea she had in her belly a man whose evil would be spoken about for centuries now did she?
What if I grow to hate my child’s father? I can’t have for my baby girl to know this, for she might hate hers too and be as messed up as I am and I’d hate that because if I do have a baby girl she deserves the world and more.
I’m not psyched about being a mum; it’s not a job for everyone. It doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough for me and it doesn’t make me less of a person. I think it makes me less selfish, because in my opinion, parenting constitutes some degrees of selfishness.
But no. Thank you for the ovaries and fallopian tubes and vajay-jay and the punishment I go through every month when my body kills potential babies, which I will never understand. But to being a mother, I say no thank you. Who is with me?