Family Planning for One

Last month I decided never to have kids.

During the Christmas holidays, I went for a casual hike with a guy from my journalism program. We spent the day getting to know each other by discussing past adventures, current relationships and future goals. Both of us have travelled extensively, I had just ended a relationship and he was just starting one, and we were both considering working overseas when we graduate in April.

I asked him how he planned to deal with the inevitable struggle of balancing a wife and family while reporting internationally. A foreign correspondent necessarily moves around a lot.

"Easy," he answered. "I don't plan on having kids."

I was shocked. I had never met anybody so young--he was 30--who was so sure he didn't want children, although he did jokingly say he would reconsider if he ever met a girl he had "the undeniable urge to impregnate." I let it go for the rest of the day but after dropping him off at home, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. The idea of not having kids was appealing to me more and more.

No kids represents freedom. Without kids, I could live anywhere in the world. I wouldn't have to own a "home" nor would I have to worry about saving huge sums of money for my future children's education. Heck, I wouldn't even need to find a life partner. Without kids, I could do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life and would need to think only about myself. Financial planning would be a breeze.

I felt a huge sense of release from stress I never even knew had existed. My future felt lighter. A bit of research even led me to websites as well as social and support groups for women who chose not to fulfill the expected motherly duties role and to live as DINKs (Dual Income, No Kids couples).

Then Christmas happened.

I spent Christmas Eve at my girlfriend's house and although it was the first time I had met her family, they made me feel totally welcome. The whole atmosphere was warm and cozy. Her parents were obviously proud of my friend and her brother, as was her 83-year-old grandma, who didn't stop making me laugh all night with wacky stories. The next day I spent Christmas with my family. Our dynamics are a little different; we show our affection by fighting and making fun of each other. But I can still see the love in my mother's eyes when my brother and sister squabble over the last of the stuffing.

Come Boxing Day, I knew I had been fooling myself. A lesson I've learned repeatedly throughout my travels kept haunting me: your happiness ultimately depends on who you are with not where you are. I realized that when I'm 83, I want to be telling stories about my loving family, even if it means I had to give up a few vacations.

So now, instead of feeling unsure about whether to have kids in the future, I worry about falling in love with a guy who doesn't want them... and about giving birth.