Mindful Minion

For most of my life, I went back and forth about having children.

I am unmarried, and for a long time, I wasn’t completely sure what I wanted.

I have a very maternal side. I’m affectionate, nurturing, protective, and naturally caring. And if I ever became a mother, I genuinely believe I would be a very loving one.

I might even be a very good mother.

However, the older I get, the more certain I become that I don’t want to give birth.

Not because I think motherhood is bad. I don’t think people who choose to have children have made the wrong decision.

Simply because, when I look honestly at the life I have and the conditions required to bring another human being into it, I don’t think parenthood is the right path for me.

Wanting a child and having the resources to responsibly raise one are two different things.

Sometimes love says yes while reality says, Not under these conditions.

And I think reality deserves a seat at the table.

So before making that decision, I think it is important to honestly consider everything that is already part of those lives, including the responsibilities, circumstances, energy, and capacity that come with them.

It can mean additional financial responsibility.

Additional physical and emotional demands.

Additional decisions.

And, eventually, potentially, additional strain on the relationships involved.

I don’t want to create that kind of pressure simply because I happen to love the idea of being a mother.

That would not be fair to anyone involved.

And it would not be fair to the child either.

Because a child deserves more than people who simply want them.

They deserve people who are genuinely able to show up for them.

I don’t want to romanticize parenthood so much that I forget what it actually requires.

I don’t want to make a beautiful emotional decision and then expect reality to accommodate it.

Sometimes the most loving decision is the one that acknowledges what is actually possible.

And there is another layer to this for me.

I’ve spent a lot of time learning about attachment, karma, spirituality, and what it means to live with less attachment to this world.

Whether you recognize it or not, parenthood is an attachment.

It is desire. It is instinct. In many ways, it is selfishness.

You love your child because they are your child. You spend your money on your child. You buy them clothes, toys, food, education. You worry about your child. You rearrange your life around your child.

Why?

Because they are yours.

But what happens when the child isn’t yours?

Would you spend the same money educating a child you’ve never met?

Would you make the same sacrifices for someone else’s child? And by the way, everybody is someone else’s child.

Love can only be unconditional and selfless when given to people you don’t know, without ownership and the expectation of receiving something back.

When you give everything to your own child, there is a deep sense of “mine.”

My child. My family. My blood. My future. My responsibility. My happiness.

Underneath all of that, I see taṇhā, the craving, the thirst, the wanting and clinging that Buddhism teaches us to examine.

It is attachment, sugar-coated so beautifully that we mistake it for something sacred.

That is exactly why, for me, parenthood is not some powerful exception to attachment. It is one of its most deceptive forms.

The more deeply attached we become, the more there is to lose, and the more our own desires and fears can shape how we think, speak, and act.

That is part of why parenthood doesn’t appeal to me spiritually.

I don’t want to spend my life cultivating that kind of attachment simply because it is natural.

How much of my time, money, energy, attention, and emotional capacity would be devoted to one small circle that belongs to me?

And how much would remain for everything else?

For other people.

For generosity.

For service.

For spiritual practice.

For cultivating compassion beyond the boundaries of my own family.

I don’t see not having children as giving something up. I see it as making room for a different kind of life, one that reflects what I truly value. My life can still be meaningful. It can still be full of love, purpose, growth, and beautiful experiences.

There are many ways to live a meaningful life, and motherhood is only one of them.

I don’t need to follow a particular path to make my life worthwhile. I can build a life that reflects my own values, priorities, and desires.

That is the life I chose to have.