I’m 64, Consciously Never Conceived
And I Still Have No Regrets
The History and State of My Uterus Determined My Value
I learned at a very young age that society viewed the history and state of my uterus as a measure of judgment that determined my value and sense of self-worth on the planet. It was a difficult and emotionally painful right-of-passage-into-adulthood/womanhood experience.
I was 16 when I decided that I would not have children of my own. When my mother lost custody of us due to not being able to care for us and my stepfather’s struggles with alcoholism and drug addiction, we were placed in the foster care system. When I was about to age out of the system, I decided to go to the local public service agency and ask if they could help me figure out how I could live on my own. The young receptionist (she was maybe two or three years older) asked me three questions:
“Are you pregnant?”
“Do you have any kids?”
“Have you ever been pregnant?”
After answering, “no”, to each question in a shocked voice, she dismissively stated, “then we can’t help you…”
I stood there frozen and humiliated at being told that I, alone, was not worth helping or compassion…of any kind. I was snapped out of my stupor of incredulity by hearing an audible gasp of surprise and noticing an expression of disgust from the security guard standing a few feet behind the receptionist. Yes, his response was eerily loud in the long hallway entrance to the building. I have never forgotten his response. It helped me to walk out of that space feeling a little less devalued and a little more determined not to end up on the streets homeless.
Through the years I learned that it was oftentimes a mistake announcing my decision to consciously/on purpose to not conceive to any adult who grew dewy eyed with anticipation whenever I babysat or was around Little People. “Ohhhhh….you are such a natural little mother…I bet you can’t wait until you have your own”. My immediate response of, ‘I won’t have to wait because it won’t be happening’, always shocked them; and their automatic response of, “Awwww, you’re young…you will change your mind…” always secretly annoyed me. I didn’t dare voice a comeback (respect your elders programming), and the awkward silence would usually end with them changing the subject or abruptly ending any further conversation with me.
You’re Young, You Can Afford To Be Selfish
There have been heated discussions/debates over the “selfishness” of those of us who do not have children. At a fundraising tea function, two women about my age were bragging about how much money their spouses allowed them to spend during their travels. Although I was sitting next to them, they didn’t include me in the conversation. Ladies across the table noticed and invited me into the conversation. I commented about how being single I usually traveled solo because my married friends with kids often couldn’t go along because of scheduling challenges. The two ladies next to me pounced on my no-kids status. Their blatantly embittered rant ranged from “you’re young, you can afford to be selfish” to “when you don’t have anybody else to consider or worry about, you can afford to travel wherever and whenever you want…”.
Whether the decision to not have children is because of circumstance or a purposeful conscientious decision, women like me seem to be easily labeled as selfish and narcissistic without the benefit of explanation. Unfortunately, I had experienced similar judgmental outbursts before. The ladies across the table where visibly shocked at the verbal attacks. The ladies who had ranted their indignation of my supposed carefree single and no-children status thought the conversation had ended. It had not. With a tempered and practiced firm tone, I informed everyone at the table that, beginning at a very young age and well into adulthood, I had been a surrogate parent to my siblings and a lifelong caregiver to my mother. My simple life-reality statement killed any further assumptions and commentary about my “selfish” no-children status. There was a curiously smug glance of acknowledgement and satisfaction from the ladies across the table.
There was a time when I often questioned why those who judge me need to define me as “selfish” without bothering to know or understand why I made the decision not to child. I don’t question my admiration and respect for parenthood. I don’t view motherhood or parenthood as being a life-long sentence of martyrdom. The parents I had and grew up around celebrated having their children. They didn’t display signs of being burdened or suffering from the ills of having children, nor did they live as if they were sacrificing something in their lives. The realities of raising awesome human beings, of course, has its challenges and difficulties. The parents I knew did the best they were able with little complaint or public drama.
What Kind of Black Woman Are You?…
My respect for those who parent has often been mistaken as regret and a suppressed desire to give birth. There have been many awkward, and at times, exhausting conversations with perspective babymakers searching for their next impregnation prospect. The most memorable was a man I briefly dated who was significantly older. He was old enough to have pre-teens by other women. He was not actively involved in their lives. He was honest about his baby mama history. I appreciated that. What I found insulting was his blunt statement of, ‘I want to make a baby with you’. When I told him there will be not babies coming out of my womb, he loudly whispered a shocked and indignant response, of ‘what kind of Black woman are you that you don’t want to have a baby!?’. I reminded him that I was still trying to figure out how to take care of myself, and I asked him why would I want to add a child into my mix of uncertainty. The man was actually at a loss for words. My private logic was that if I had wanted to be a single parent, I would have become one long before I had met him. I ended any further relationship with him.
My Uterus Is Not Public Domain
Interestingly, each decade after my 30s, I can recall conversations that sometimes, evolved into actual heated debates about how my decision will fill my life with regret and it will, eventually, be too late. I often wondered why family, friends, former colleagues, and total strangers, felt entitled to discuss the history and status of my uterus. I questioned why they needed to use that information to quantify/qualify my right to identify as a woman and as a human being of value. The same people, mostly women, are still waiting for me to show signs of regret; signs that confirm how right they were about my regretting not having children.
My uterus is not and has never been public domain, and therefore its status is not open to public discussion or debate. Why it is acceptable social conversation in a civilized society is beyond my scope of tolerance. I now understand that these people are waiting for signs of regret that would somehow validate their decision(s) to child. Their regret mongering has little, if anything, to do with me or my uterus. My decision not to have children has nothing to do with them or their decision. My decision does not invalidate or threaten their choice to parent. Yet, somehow, they seem to view my happy with no-regrets attitude about my no-children status as a personal afront to them. And, there is nothing I can do to help them reconcile their attitude towards me and my “unfulfilled” uterus.
I don’t have regrets about never having conceived because I was committed to learning how to live my life as an adult, a woman, and a human being worthy of occupying my space of being on the planet. I don’t miss or regret what I have never wanted in spite of efforts to convince me otherwise.
I celebrate the simplicity of my conscious decision often. At 64, the simplicity of my decision is the reason that I have no regrets. The simple bliss of knowing your authentic decision of truth is what I wish for every woman who chooses to walk on this journey.
