Babies. Babies. Babies.
I only have a faint memory of ever wanting to have children, or ever looking forward to that milestone in my life. I remember, from a very young age, responding to my mother’s “Just wait until you have children of your own!” with “I’m never having children!” And I really felt that way. It was not just retaliatory. I really felt that I would never have children.
I never imagined myself raising a family. I imagined myself building relationships with people, building lives with people, having a community, playing with other people’s children, but never having my own.
So many people around me speak of raising a family. It’s hard to imagine myself as anyone other than an auntie, at least to a human child. Hell, I couldn’t even provide a stable home for a cat.
And that’s okay. I am okay with the not-wanting.
If, someday, someone…
That could change. And that’s okay, too.