I regret having children, and other such conversations
I recently followed a Facebook group called I regret having children.
The posts, largely written by anonymous mothers, range from mild venting; sleep deprivation (…but I love my son), lifestyles now void of spontaneity (…it’s worth it to plan, hit the park and push a swing), lack of intimacy with my partner (….that’ll change once they get older, right?), through to acutely typed anger and stressors from baby to teen, perfectly echoing the sentiment of the group — regret.
Themes of absence and void of meaning play out as I scroll through the posts with widening eyes. Where is the meaning and purpose I’m searching for? I turn to the many mothers groups and forums to find this. Interestingly, they mostly say the same thing as the regretters, but with more questions around ‘am I doing it right’?, and ‘is everyone else finding it this hard?’
Yes it is that hard, in case you were wondering.
The difference between surviving and thriving however, looks to me, like help. And not from your partner as you might expect. But In the form of a village and more often than not, a nanny. It’s your network that ensure you’re alive and kicking for the moments of joy, swings in the park, candles on an icecream cake, etc. rather than cooked in the corner on a Xanax (no judgement — I’ve read the posts).
It takes a village
Those of us born in the 1980s now have the agency to zoom out and question the rise of the ‘purpose-seeking professionals’; that addictive catch-phrase of a widely disillusioned gen.
You can ‘have it all’ and ‘be whatever you can dream’ and <insert generic motivational quote here>. Fine. But personally I’m thankful for accounts like Disappointing Affirmations and nihilist poetry/lyrics; those that don’t keep the facade that adulthood and certainly motherhood, is anything less than a huge challenge, but instead reflect the raw and painful day to day that keeps us connected with each other. i.e crying into a glass of wine as you tell a stranger that this isn’t the life you invisioned.
Our gen were hellbent on contributing to make the world a more innovative, sustainable and humane place, and the ideal family set-up was just part of that packaged goodness of ‘having it all’. It’s no wonder we still think of the nuclear family as a rite of passage. Mum, Dad, 2.1 children. A roundup to .1 to complete our already inflated egos. And now that IVF, egg freezing and sperm donors are common (albeit for those that can afford it, or those who work for tech giants), even being single doesn’t excuse you from the barrage of messaging that you too, can just have it all.
As we well know, the statistics of families that fit the nuclear description (and purpose-seeking jobs that actually pay), are far from the norm and those that stand, look different behind closed doors than the seasonal advertisements keeping you commercially viable will have you believe. (Just Google 1950s ads for a laugh when you’re feeling overwhelmed at being a modern woman). And we get it. Society doesn’t tick over without the family unit. That religious zeal. Inflation is a constant. It’s essential we keep doing our part. But what is doing our part?
There was a concerning amount of homeowners surprised when interest rates rose from 0. I suspect the same cohort mighn’t think it necessary to have savings to welcome a newborn either.
The Choosi Cost of Kids Report 2023 revealed the estimated annual average spend on child(ren) is $12,823 per household. Of that, Childcare (55%), nappies/hygiene (55%), and safety car seat costs (47%) emerged as the top three most expensive costs of having kids.
It is an average estimate of $160,000 to raise one child over 18 years in Australia. A conservative figure no doubt, one that doesn’t account for any health issues or considers the current cost of living to result in your 18 year old sticking round the family home until at least 28.
Things get worse before they get better
The early nursing and toddler years that cause sleep deprivation in so many parents have been compared to torture tactics used to elicit secrets from prisoners of war. And feeling like a POW is how some pro-choice women have felt following recent back and forth decisions being made in boardrooms, by men, for women, about our bodies.
Earlier today, Janet Protasiewicz prevailed in Wisconsin’s highly consequential contest for the Supreme Court, which will now be likely to reverse the state’s abortion ban and end the use of gerrymandered legislative maps. The Judge made her political priorities central to her campaign and made explicit her support for abortion rights. Is it any wonder that with increased visibility of groups such as I regret having children, combined with the increased cost of living, epidemic of loneliness and hyper-connectivity linked to emotional deprivation — people are simply wanting the choice to opt out of children.
Will you be more accepted as a woman if you’re a mother? Probably. It’s a well walked path and intrinsically tied by biology to a woman’s worth. But its outdated, and more to the point — we live in a time that allows us to determine our own value — a freedom women before us never had.
The chance to ask, “but what do I want”? The Facebook group is just one of many avenues popping up to give exhausted parents a platform (anonymously) to push back on societal norms that forged ahead, providing others with a real-world view of parenthood.
What we’re seeing now which was once taboo, is an emergence of (shared and spoken) regret. An emotion just as valid to listen to and as normal to experience as happiness, contentment and joy.
Pre-child isn’t birthing classes or which cot to buy
I recently spent time with a social worker at the Royal Hospital for Women, keen to understand my own position on children and their place in my future goals and understanding of self.
What value did I place on having children in my own life, versus the societal pressures we, as women, are bascially born with, versus motivators like loneliness and someone to look after me when I’m older. All pre-assigned roles for children that are far from the selfless responsibility that good parenting calls for (also roles precarious in their fruition).
Do you know the reasons you’re starting a family? Do you have the support to go it alone? Is your partner on the same page, in actions and not just in words. There’s always more to consider. More questions to ask.
The overiding question for me remains; do I want to give my time, energy, love and dedicate myself fully to helping a child develop into their own self and life — if I’m still asking these things of myself?
I don’t have the answer to this. Yet.
For those of us unsure or doubting the bliss of motherhood, unravelling your thoughts on everything (not just motherhood) with a qualified professional can be helpful in making decisions that will change the course of your life.
Maybe I will be a mother one day. Maybe not. The journey of asking is taking me on a quest for knowledge. And how privileged I am that I have the time, space, family, friendships, support networks and tools to keep asking the right questions.