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Let’s talk about descendants. Progeny. Offspring. Issue.

Children.

I think children are incredible. They have so much life in them. They’re joyful, innocent, and accepting. They can be wise far beyond their years. They’re fun to hang out with (most of the time) and, having had the experience of teaching them, I know that they can absorb so much more than they get credit for. They’re champion snugglers and fantastic practical joke partners.

And I don’t want any.

I am in the prime of my childbearing years. I have answered countless variations of the “When are you going to have kids?” question. Admittedly, my answer has changed over time, but the further along I get into territory of “if you wait too much longer everything will be terrible,” the more adamant I become in my decision to abstain from claiming membership in the oldest club in the world, for so many reasons.

I currently do not have a partner with whom I could conceive or adopt a child. I realize that not having a partner isn’t actually a deal-breaker on the kid front, but I am in no way prepared for the challenges faced by single parents (who are incredible, by the way). I have always known that parenthood was not an undertaking I would wish to tackle solo, therefore child-sans-partner was never an option.

I am not in a place financially where I could support another human being. While I live comfortably on my own, there is no room in the current budget for the needs of an infant. And don’t even get me started on the cost of child care! There’s also no room in my condo for a second person (trust me, I tried), so unless I win the lottery or purposefully marry money, I simply can’t afford it. Hell, even on two incomes I know people who just manage to squeak by.

I am not the best adult. I have trouble managing to take care of myself sometimes--at least beyond the very basics. Rinsing the dishes, stacking them in the sink, shrugging, and saying, “I’ll do ‘em when I do ‘em” isn’t the mark of a stellar role model.

And while we’re on the subject of role models, I’m pretty considerably messed up in the noggin when it comes to that whole ‘feelings and emotions’ thing. If I have this much trouble with it myself, how am I supposed to raise a well-rounded human being who doesn’t have as many walls and hangups and nigh-impenetrable defenses as I do? We want our children to be healthy and happy, and I’m just now beginning to figure out how to access a big portion of how those things come to be in a person’s life. I’m significantly behind the curve on this one, and that’s a marked disadvantage to any offspring I could potentially produce.

Also, I just don’t think I’d be good at it. I’m impatient and temperamental and particular and inclined to be introverted. Interacting with kids while babysitting or in a classroom or summer camp setting is a completely different beast than the 24/7/365 of parenthood. I have recently taken to describing myself as a member of the children’s library: I borrow them, enjoy them, and return them. That way I have the ability to give them back and get away before I come unglued. You can’t get away from them when they’re your own--it doesn’t work that way.

Have you looked at the world recently? It’s an unmitigated garbage fire. What kind of a life will our children have, growing up and coming of age in this rampant fuckery? Will grandchildren even be a possibility, or will we have annihilated the entire human race by then?

My personal health would be compromised by a pregnancy. I would have to come off of several medications that allow me to live my life without constant anxiety and the black spectre of despair hanging over me. Un-medicated me is a handful, and I would be willing to bet that pregnant, un-medicated me would be a complete and total basket case. I can’t help but feel that not only would that be bad for me, it would have a negative effect on the child I was carrying. A different negative effect than it growing a third arm from prescription drug poisoning, obviously, but stress ain’t good for nobody.

The U.S. has one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the developed world. Let that sink in for a minute.

These are my practical reasons. Plenty of people have said, “You’ll change your mind.” No, I don’t think I will, but thanks for telling me that you don’t believe I know my own mind. “But it’s so rewarding!” So is helping out at the rat rescue, and going to dance class, and reviewing comics in my spare time. I would rather do those things than chase a toddler around. I don’t need a child to validate my existence. I am a person. Having a child would not make me any more of a person. Not having one does not make me any less of a person.

You all get down with your bad, baby-having selves if that’s what rings your chimes. For my part, I’m going to say “Thanks, but no thanks.”