Heather C.

I don’t understand this sentiment…if I am so lucky to not have kids, then why did you have kids in the first place? Oh wait, they are the greatest joy, the deepest love, the best thing you’ve ever done? And there is no way that I could ever truly know a love like a parent knows? So why am I so lucky to not have them?

It often seems that this is said with an edge of envy for the extra sleep, the freed-up schedules, the “extra income”, and the personal liberties it appears we have because we don’t have kids of our own. An aura of arrogance as they hold the belief that parents hold the only key to knowing true sacrifice and suffering.

The cut of such a comment goes even deeper when this is said in a group setting where fellow parents chuckle along as they commiserate, seemingly reveling, in the misery of parenthood together as they unconsciously look down at us “because we have no idea how hard it is to be a parent”.  Unaware they have created a club that is strictly guarded with an attitude of “us vs. them” and a clear belief of superiority for being in this club. But the thing is, I didn’t have a choice about not joining the club. That choice was taken away when I went into surgical menopause at the age of 30 due to a double oophorectomy.

At the time I was single and I deeply grieved, but I was shocked when the grief resurfaced with a vengeance when I met my husband six years later. I had finally met a person that I could see being a great partner in parenthood. But there I was on our second date letting him know that if he chose to stay with me, that biological kids could not be a part of our story. And due to financial circumstances, adoption would never be an option either. We had to accept that children were just not going to be a part of our family. And boy would he have been a great dad. Every time I see him interact with kids my heart equally smiles and hurts, seeing how effortlessly he speaks their language and for all the moments we will never have with our own kids.

Navigating this area of our life has evolved as we have grown in emotionally maturity and compassion. For a time we would just ignore the grief. We would play along in these conversations with parents and act as if it was funny and that we agreed with them. We used to “high-five” every time we saw a child meltdown, a parent not enjoy their meal as we sat and enjoyed ours, or the inevitable argument between spouses as they navigate family gatherings or vacations with kids. And while that was helpful and comforting to make light of these difficult moments, we started to recognize that we were masking our grief. And we were perpetuating the “us vs them” way of thinking.

We realized that what this comment is actually doing is trying to compare suffering. Yes, it is hard to be a parent at times. We get it. But dear parents, you will never know the weight of carrying unfulfilled dreams and deep longings, the way the heart aches with every pregnancy announcement, or the tremendous work of having to reimagine and redefine what family means without kids. Dear parents, you will never know the pain of being consistently excluded for something we didn’t choose, or what it feels like to navigate a society that consistently tells us we don’t belong. Please stop comparing your lack of sleep, freedom, and finances with our supposed luck.  

It has taken us a while, but we have decided to live in a place where we hold both the pain of being childless and also an appreciation for the life we have built without kids. We hold compassion for the parent who is tired, we show up for the kiddos in our life who deserve to have a village of safe adults, and we give grace to those who are struggling to see beyond themselves. Because we know we are not perfect either and we choose to grow in gratitude for what life brings our way. I am not lucky to not have kids. But I choose to be grateful for the other joys in my life. I am lucky to have learned that both joy and sorrow can exist within me at the same time. I do not need to compare my suffering to others. I do not need to compare my joy to others. So dear parents, please stop telling us we are lucky. Instead, let us all work on embracing the reality that regardless of being a parent or not, life is hard at times and being human is hard. Let’s stop creating an “us vs them” mentality and instead let’s create a village where we ALL have value.