By Rom Watson
c. July 27, 2013
Sometimes we look back at our life experiences, and upon reflection are able to extract a lesson. Other times, life smacks us with experiences that make the lesson so clear that no reflection or extraction is necessary. These are the life lessons one never forgets.
For me, one of those life lessons was, “Never have children.”
Other people’s children can be delightful, but I never wanted my own. Yes, I’ve heard that the love between a parent and child is extraordinary, but to me, the responsibility involved simply wasn’t worth it. When I was a child, becoming a parent seemed to me the complete loss of freedom and free will. It was beyond slavery; it was the end of the world.
The worst part would be having to see the world through their eyes. To relive the horrors of growing up. To watch them discover all the cruelty humans inflict upon each other as they grow from child to adult. Living through it once was bad enough, but to accompany your child through the same gauntlet? Unthinkable.
When I was younger, I remember thinking that the logical thing would have been for me to be gay, but I wasn’t born that way. (Though nowadays many gay people have children, that didn’t use to be the case.) Fortunately, I did not have to spend my life alone. I met a woman who didn’t want children either, and we’ve been married for three months shy of twenty-five years.
Having children is the right path for many people, giving them immense joy and fulfillment, but for me it wasn’t the right path.
What gave me such an aversion to parenthood? Having to look after children before I was ready. My brother was born when I was nine, and my sister when I was ten. Because I was mature for my age, my parents felt certain I was capable of looking after my siblings in their absence, which I was called upon to do on numerous occasions. As a result, I never felt like a big brother, I always felt like the third authority figure in the family.
It was immediately obvious, to myself if not my parents, that I was out of my depth. The fact that I loved my brother and sister was beside the point. The fact that I was at an age where I wanted to be self-centered was also beside the point. I had no innate skills for coping with children. None.
I soon came to realize that children are wild animals who need to be tamed. (Or as we say nowadays, “socialized.”) Their spirits know no boundaries, and our sad duty is to make them aware, for their own good as well as the good of others, that there are indeed boundaries. I was not up to the task.
I saw that if I wasn’t alert to their every move, they could harm themselves, or die, and being responsible for the death of any child, much less your own sibling, was a horrifying thought. I tried to be alert to their every move, but often failed.
One example is an occasion where I got distracted, I don’t remember by what, and then went looking for my brother, who was still in diapers at the time. I found him in the kitchen. He had opened the spice drawer and discovered four tiny bottles filled with pretty liquid, which he drank. Traces of the food coloring were all over his face. I wiped up the mess and counted my blessings that he didn’t ingest anything dangerous. I forgot about the incident until a couple of days later when I had to change his diaper. His excrement was the most intense shade of emerald green I have ever seen. Due to the shock of seeing such a vivid green when I was expecting brown, it took me half a minute to comprehend the cause. My first thought was, “What did he eat?” Then I remembered the food coloring. When I found him food coloring all over his face, it looked like he drank all four colors. However, judging by the evidence in his diaper, he drank mostly the yellow and the blue.
As I grew older, life continued to make it clear that I wasn’t suited to parenthood. During their elementary school years, I was pressed into service to tutor my siblings during the summer. I had absolutely no skill for that task, which made us all miserable. Years later, both my brother and my sister dropped out of high school. My parents, having their own awful memories of school, were surprisingly calm and supportive of this, but I was appalled. Watching their lack of education limit their lives years later, I couldn’t help but feel guilty about my shortcomings as a tutor. I’m sure those tutoring sessions soured them on schooling, and learning in general. When I became an adult, there was absolutely no equivocation on my part as to whether I would have children of my own. My answer to any question involving children, (and yes, I actually said this to more than one person), was “No, I’ve ruined enough lives.”
I know in my heart that choosing to live child-free was the right path for me. And for my wife. So I tip my hat to life for frequently showing me paths that weren’t right for me. It makes the paths I’m on that much more satisfying.
