Why Being a Childfree Adult Sucks

I wasn’t going to be so specific on the type of adulting I was going to discuss in this piece, but I think there just may be a slight difference in the act of adulting between a parent and a non-parent. And seeing as how I’ve never had an offspring, I didn’t want to generalize something I have not experienced. I may do just that, but hey, I made the disclaimer of not wanting to so there’s that.

One big difference for me between a parent and non-parent in the world of adulthood is that I feel {another disclaimer} that kids hold a sense of playfulness and magic that, if they have well-adjusted and engaging parents, instills a youthfulness into those adults that a childfree adult who isn’t around children very often kind of loses as they get older.

For instance. Everyone in the United States of America, whether they like him or hate him immensely with every fiber of their being, has to deal with the current President being in office. Has to deal with the Media constantly reporting on him like some Kardashian celebrity, has to deal with the ignorant, crude, cutting, distasteful and hateful tweets he makes usually anywhere from 3x a week to daily, has to deal with conflicting feelings, opinions, stances of others’ that leave foul tastes in everyone’s mouths. And that’s just the politics of today, there’s more!

So I mentioned losing magic, a sense of playfulness, and some youthfulness. Maybe not all Childfree adults feel this way, but I know I do. I could just have a case of baby fever. I would need to Google the symptoms because I don’t really know what it entails. I have had moments where I wanted a child. But they were fleeting and usually stamped out by the memory of how I felt when I was pregnant that one time over a decade ago.

I never prayed so sincerely and fervently than during that time in my life. I don’t know when mothers are supposed to feel connected to their unborn, but I didn’t. And maybe it was the logical reasons like not wanting to be tied to Jorge for the rest of my life. Or maybe I simply wasn’t ready for it. Which sounds kind of stupid because a lot of people have children when they aren’t ready and those babies grow to full term. After my procedure, which was just precautionary so I wouldn’t risk hemorrhaging during a miscarriage, I thought that my ETPF (early term pregnancy failure) was my fault. That I literally killed what could’ve been. And that is when the grief set in.

I still believe that today. No one has truly ever been able to convince me that my abhorrent dread of becoming a mother at 21 wasn’t the reason my pregnancy failed.

I guess I am “superstitious” in that manner. When I started as a Rx Tech I said to my coworkers I never wanted to have a Mental Illness or Thyroid disorder because that meant medication for the rest of your life. This was in 2007/8. In 2010 I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, 2011 had my thyroid removed, 2011 diagnosed with Bipolar disorder.

So I am either superstitious or harboring a dangerous super power I have yet to completely hone in on.

In conclusion, I don’t know the correct reasons for having children, but I would be happy to have someone else to focus on besides myself and the shit going on in the world today. Simply put, that would be fucking nice.

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