Do You Have Kids?

“Do you have kids?”

Whenever the seemingly innocuous question of, “do you have kids?” is posed, a part of me always shrinks inside. It is such a complicated topic that I have grappled with for years. When I was married, I always used to reply to that question jokingly with, “Yes, I have two: a husband and a dog.” This, without fail, would always get a laugh and get us off the topic quickly.

It always seemed better to respond with this humorous retort rather than the alternative of a stark “no”. The stark “no” would make me feel uncomfortable, fill the air with an awkward pregnant pause (no pun intended) and have me assuming (probably wrongfully) the other person was conjuring up the story of “the why” in their own mind.

Like many, I’m sure, I use humor to deflect discomfort and as a coping mechanism for dealing with not so pleasant things in my life. (That is an entirely separate topic I’m sure I will write about some day).

When it comes to the topic of children and the choice of not having them, people make some hurtful comments. “Oh, you don’t have children? You’re missing out on life’s greatest joy.” “Oh, you don’t have children? You’ll change your mind.” “You don’t know what it’s like to be tired until you’ve had children.” “You don’t like kids?” “You can always adopt”, and my most favorite as of recently: “Oh, you donated money? You must not have children.”. These are just a few of the sundry real-life comments that have been made to me.

Offensive (as interpreted) and unsolicited comments are made with any subject in life, I suppose. I feel people generally are good and always have the best of intentions. I pride myself on being someone who does not get offended easily, practicing empathy and making a concerted effort to see the perspective of the person on the other side. But for some reason, comments about my not having children, strike a serious nerve. I wish I could gloss over it, but no matter how hard I try, it still is very much a thorn in my side, and not one I’m proud of.

I have given this a lot of thought as to why I get so heated about it. My only theory is that it has nothing to do with anything else but self judgement. I have referenced the book, “The Four Agreements” quite a bit in my posts in the last year. I still stand by the statement that this book changed my life. A huge take away for me was any time you are feeling anger or unease, it has nothing to do with the other person, but rather to look inwardly. So, I imagine, the thorn is nothing but my casting judgment on myself.

The why of my not having children is complicated. It gives more reason to anyone reading this why they should be a little more careful in making, in their minds, innocent comments. I think people are significantly more aware of the sensitivity of the topic now more so than they were 10 years ago. I think people, as a whole, are more sensitive towards any topic than they were 10 years ago due to excessive offense being taken by the masses. The statement of “Good lord, people get so offended so easily” has come out of my mouth on countless occasions so the hypocrisy in writing this post is palpable. It is what it is.

So, my “why…” or at least a big part of it:

I was born with Saethre-Chotzen Syndrome. What the hell is that? It is defined as a genetic condition characterized by the premature fusion of certain skull bones preventing the skull from growing normally and affects the shape of the head and face. Yikes.

This was a surprise to my parents when I entered the world at 1:03am on April 13th, 1981. Rumor has it, my dad passed out after being told something wasn’t quite right in the delivery room. At six weeks old, I had to have a pretty intense surgery, although I imagine, any surgery at six weeks old is intense. To put it into perspective, Boston Children’s Hospital did not know enough about the condition at the time, so we had to fly to New York to have the surgery at New York Children’s Hospital where they had more expertise. At the time, my folks were not sure how I was going to develop, or if there would be any implications in brain development and function and so on.

Obviously, I turned out ok (or “mostly ok” as my brother likes to say) and the medical field knows significantly more about the condition now than they did back then.
I had to have another surgery in 5th grade that totaled 14 hours, had me in the hospital for 10 days and resulted with a shaved head. Something every 5th grade girl is dying for, especially already being as painfully shy and quiet as I was. I missed over a month of school. I have a scar across the mid-sculp region of my head stretching from one ear to the other. Something I always forget about until I’m sitting down to get my hair cut by a new stylist. I still remember my nurse, Diane, and how wonderful she was. If anyone has ever questioned whether nurses make a difference, I assure you, yes, they do.

Growing up, regular visits down to Boston Children’s Hospital and sitting before panels of surgeons asking me questions and having my head poked and prodded and measured as a young kid was normal to me. It meant I got to get out of school and spend the day with my mom down in Boston. We made it a tradition to always go have lunch at Faneuil Hall. That was my norm and I don’t think I ever gave it much thought other than it was something that we did… like t-ball practice. I had a great childhood and my family never made me feel like I was different, which I’m grateful for. I did, however, always feel more comfortable around adults than children having gone through this experience (Another post, for another day).

I was told at a very young age, that if I ever wanted to have children of my own, I would need to have genetic counseling as my offspring would have 50% chance of having it. Imagine being told that when you are a kid? I’m not sure if I made the decision back then to not have children, but it was certainly a factor that weighed heavily on my mind moving forward.
I think back to all of it now wondering how the hell my parents did it, more so from a psychological perspective. I watch all my friends who have kids go through the normal trials and tribulations of parenting and seeing how hard THAT is. I cannot imagine my parents dealing with that on top of all the medical stuff having limited knowledge of what this was as young parents. I imagine that is part of it, too; not only having the fear of being a parent, in general, which from my conversations with my parent friends is no joke, but having the fear of maneuvering what my parents did on top of it. That thought was always terrifying to me. Like anything, I’m sure it always boils down to the fear of not feeling like I’d be good enough (again, an entirely other post for another time).
There are still days I wonder or say to myself, “maybe I’ll change my mind”. As the clock ticked to birthday #39 a few days ago, the window for the option is certainly closing in. While I do not feel a dramatic amount of pressure as to whether I made the right choice for me, there are still days when there is a dull presence of emotional pain of feeling like I’m missing out on something.

Watching close friends experience both the joys and pains of parenting still leave me torn. Moments of my friends sharing stories of adoration of their kids? ** Heart tug**. Going into a Target (under normal circumstances), where I would never not hear a child screaming at the top of their lungs, while their poor parent stood by helplessly trying to calm them down with every fiber of their being? *Nope, not for me*

Someone put it succinctly to me once (it may have been – READ: IT WAS – my therapist) and said, “you will always wonder ‘what if’, regardless of whether or not you have children.” Whenever I do get that dull emotional pain of the “what if”, that statement pops up in my head bringing with it a great sense of relief and a reminder of where I am is right where I am supposed to be.