I wrote a blog post once. It’s entitled Why I don’t want kids, and it surprised me in becoming the most popular post on my blog. People argued their case, told me I was selfish (I had already admitted as much), but mostly people came to say thank you. They thanked me for talking about it publicly, for stating that which should not be said. For **going against societal norms and saying “this is me, I make no apologies for this”.
A year ago I removed my blog. With a change in name, I moved from my old domain to the current one. I didn’t transfer the content, I started from scratch, for a few reasons. One was that my old blog had become stale. The other is that I was finding myself again. I created a new slate.
One year later I found the person I had once been and had denied for a while. Maybe not completely, and I possibly never will, because for everything I learn about myself, I know I am wont to change. Sometime change happens over time. Sometimes it is a concerted effort on my part to remove from my life that which no longer serves me. I know my past serves me well, it is the culmination of all I have learnt, and had been thinking of reinstating the old blog posts.
A few days ago I wanted to pull out a particular post, comments and all. It turns out that would have taken a lot of effort, so I pulled it all in as planned, if not earlier than I would have guessed it to happen.
So why that post in particular? Well, in fact, there were three posts; Why I don’t want kids, the sequel, A little respect (just a little bit), and the rebuttal to being misrepresented, Feminists are selfish - obey God’s command!
Why? The short answer: because I changed. I had a confession to make, and the back story was needed.
You see I never did want kids. Ask my sister. From an early age I never wanted them. Through the 15 years of adulthood I didn’t want them. I knew I didn’t. I knew I loved kids, but loved giving them back at the end of the day. Jo and I had decided that we weren’t going to have any more.
So on a windy August day I wandered in to my appointment, lay back and got the snip.
Vasectomies. There are two tubes that carry sperm from your testicles to your penis (via a few other parts). They are cut about 3cm from the testicles. There are quite a few cms left with sperm still in them. You’re not immediately sterile, and so began the countdown to sterility as I evacuated any remaining sprogs to be. Until I changed my mind. We changed our minds. Were we sure? Imagine all the awesomeness of having a child. So much to learn. I would love to go through a pregnancy with Jo. Were we mad?
The odds not being against us yet, we decided to optimise the chances of conception over Jo’s next two cycles. To no avail. We figured, if the Universe wants us to be parents, she will make it so, and she didn’t. To be fair, we weren’t making it easy for her. We accepted out fate.
For 5 minutes.
Chris Lekich studied under Earl Owen and is possibly now the best at what he does. People fly from all over the world just to see him. He reverses vasectomies, and about 4 months ago, I underwent the second and more invasive operation on my scrotum in less than 6 months. The vasectomy took three days to recover from. I wasn’t running for a month after the reversal.
Then it all hit home again. The anxiety, the uncertainty, and most of all, the fact that being a father would mean a lifestyle that I didn’t want. Sure, I’d get used to it. I’d even love it. But I want to travel, I want to be able to leave at a moments notice. I’m unsure about getting dogs in case I want to go to Europe next week. Children don’t stop that, but they make it harder.
Jo has a child. A beautiful, inquisitive, clever, cautious, child who knows more about the Cretaceous period than I am likely ever to know. I love kids, and always have. Just haven’t wanted my own.
I now find myself in a strange middle ground. I’m not a father, but I have a child living in my house half the week. I’m not a babysitter, I make her porridge in the morning. I’m not a house-mate, I play a part in her development from brain stimulating and muscle building to boundary setting. I don’t get to go home, but I receive so much in return; her love, her lessons, her learnings, her stumbles and triumphs.
Ultimately, I love my life the way it is, and could live it like this for the rest of my days very, very happily. I cannot say the same for fatherhood.
So on an ordinary April day I wandered in to my appointment, lay back and got the snip.