Confessions Of A Former DINK: Why I Chose To Have Kids

I’m not a “kids person”. Is it odd saying that as a mother of a four-month-old? Babies are messy and loud, while children are volatile, stubborn, and often nonsensical - and yet, my husband and I had a kid of our own. On purpose. And of our own volition. On some nights, I ask myself, WHY? Why did I choose what feels like an eternity of bouncing our baby to sleep on a yoga ball, when just a year ago, we were perfectly content with our unfettered, unscheduled existence as DINKs? 

(What are DINKs, you ask? Read this)

Here are just a few of the reasons I was so ambivalent about having children: 

• I was not up for the body horror that is pregnancy and giving birth
• I’d have to sacrifice most of my "me time", which is scarce enough as it is
• I don’t think I have the “personality” or skill set to be a parent–just ask anyone who’s ever asked me to babysit (or to cook)
• Kids are expensive, especially when you and your husband both hold “non-essential” jobs in creative fields
• Speaking of jobs, what would happen to my career?
• Raising a child into a mature adult and a contributing member of society feels like an impossible burden when you yourself are still working on being a mature adult and a contributing member of society
• Given the horrors of the 21st century, I wasn’t sure that having a child is even the right thing to do
• Someone once said that becoming a mum means living with your heart outside of your body, and I couldn't bear the thought of having children, only to lose them
• And finally, I didn’t think we needed to have a kid in order to live nurturing, unselfish lives. If anything, as a childfree woman, I’d have more time and energy to invest in the people and causes that matter to me

Honestly, if my husband had told me with 100% certainty that he didn't want kids, I would've been onboard with permanent DINK-hood. I also told him that if we couldn't conceive naturally, that instead of trying fertility treatments, I'd like us to take it as a sign that we're not meant to be parents. Perhaps what scared me more than having kids was having to be responsible for our decision either way. If we chose to have kids, and they turned out terribly, I'd feel at fault for defying my ambivalence about raising children. But if we didn't choose to have kids, and we regretted it at the end of our lives, then I'd always find myself wondering "what if?". 

PHOTO: UNSPLASH

Up until about a year and a half ago, I was about 80% certain that I didn't want kids. Likewise, my husband told me he'd be happy with or without them, as long as we stayed happily married. At the risk of sounding flaky, I don’t have a good explanation for why I changed my mind about children. It’s not as if one day, I decided that I have it in me to be a great parent after all, or that I no longer need money or me time, or that I should have a child because that's what people do after getting married. 

All I know is that about 18 months into our marriage, a switch flipped and my mostly “no-kids” stance became an “on the fence” stance, which in turn became an “okay, let’s try and see if it’s meant to be” stance, which eventually became a “man, I really want a baby” stance. 

PHOTO: 123RF

If you’re reading this, and you’re childfree or part of a DINK couple, I am in no way implying that you will eventually change your mind about kids. I’ll bet you’re sick to death of hearing "it's just a phase" from your friends and elderly relatives. 

But I’m here to assure you that if you do change your mind, and now you’re in the throes of an identity crisis, or you feel like a sell-out, I’m with you. Maybe you're suddenly overcome with baby fever, maybe your circumstances have changed, or maybe you’ve met someone who made you feel like you could be a great parent. 

Or maybe (like me), you're wondering if you'll regret not having children, and now you’re waiting for a more profound reason than that before taking the plunge. 

For me, a tangibly justifiable reason never came. But that inkling of a desire to have kids never went away either. So I asked myself this: If I were somehow given a 100% guarantee that my husband and I would be great parents, and that we'd be given a happy, healthy kid who did more good for the world than harm, would I say yes to being a mum? And would I regret sacrificing our DINK lifestyle?

On the other hand, if I were given a 100% guarantee that my husband and I would have great careers, travel the world, do meaningful things with our money, and come to the end of our lives childfree but not lonely, would I say yes to us being DINKs forever? And would I regret not experiencing what my peers describe as the profound magic of bringing new life into the world? 

After much thought, I found that my reasons for not having kids were rooted more in my fear of being a bad mum than in my desire for us to enjoy successful and meaningful lives as DINKs. By avoiding the prospect of having of children, I wasn't pursuing joy. I was avoiding pain.

This is where I give credit to my husband. Whatever deficiencies I'd have as a parent, I wouldn't be bearing them alone. We'd be raising a family as a team. So when we found ourselves at the crossroads between DINK-hood and parenthood, instead of choosing the path that seemed least painful, we chose the one that could potentially bring us more joy. 

PHOTO: 123RF

What that path looks like for you might be different than what it looks like for us. But should you choose a different route than the one you originally embarked on, you've got company, and you don't need to justify changing your mind to anyone. 

Right after I gave birth, I started bemoaning our long-gone freedom as DINKs by looking at our old photos while saying, "What have we done??". But as I've witnessed our newborn grow from a barely-aware little human into an infant who can babble, roll over, and signal for hugs and milk from Mama and Papa, the "look what we've done!" moments have started to outnumber the "what have we done??" ones. 

As it turns out, the gains don't need to surpass the losses in order for me to feel like having a baby was worth it. Sometimes just holding her in my arms is enough. 

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