I just came back from the hospital, visiting my housemate, one of my oldest friends, who just gave birth. And somehow, it brought me back here.

It’s been almost two years since I first revisited The Question of Parenthood and tried to put into words how I felt then.

Looking back now, I realise that I was still — in some ways — shapeshifting.

Not entirely. But enough to blur the truth.

I think it was a leftover effect from the relationship that ended just before I wrote it. My former partner, The Tree Grower, believed with all his heart that he would be a great dad. He really, really wanted kids. And I… really, really didn’t want to go back into the dating world. I was tired. So tired of searching, of starting over.

So, I did what I’ve always been good at doing: I adapted. I softened my edges. I gaslit myself, just enough, to believe that we were right for each other. That we truly wanted all the same things.

Which brings me to the question: what was true, and what wasn’t?

The parts about growing up imagining myself as a mom? True.

The notes filled with baby names, the saved parenting videos, even after I decided to be child-free? Also true.

But I think I over-indexed on that version of me — the one who could want children — and presented it as the one who does.

I framed it as: I know I want kids, I’m just afraid I won’t get them.

That wasn’t entirely honest. The truth is: I was ambivalent. And I still am.

If I had to describe my stance now, as clearly as possible:

I’m open to the possibility of having kids, with the right mindset and the right partner.

At my current default state, I don’t actively wish for them. I don’t actively want them. I don’t yearn for them. I can also list down the reasons why — financial, health, quality of life, lifestyle.

Conversely, rationally, I can’t think of a (selfless) reason to want kids. My biggest concern is that the world is in a state where it increasingly feels irresponsible to bring a new human being into it. If I do have kids at all, I would much rather adopt, because it feels like making a real difference in the world.

But if I change my mind, and if I find a man whom I really love, whom I believe has the capacity to be a good parent and a good partner, and we’re both in a good place financially and in life — and we both end up wanting to expand our lives by having kids and decide to do so — then it’s definitely on the table.

I’ve had that feeling before. (Though, ironically, not with The Tree Grower.) And when I had that feeling, it was completely irrational. There was no reason or justification. I just thought to myself:

I love this man so much, and I feel really good about us. Imagine little human beings who are part him and part me. What would life be like with a family like that — something I didn’t really grow up with?

So, I know that version of me exists too.

But here’s what I’m certain about: If I ever decide to have a child with a future partner, it won’t be on autopilot. It won’t be because “this is just what people do next.”

I would want us to have uncomfortable, honest conversations:

Why do we want this?

What are we really seeking: love, meaning, legacy, belonging?

Why a biological child, and not adoption?

Do we actually have the capacity — emotionally, financially, lifestyle-wise — to do this well?

Not because the reasons need to be perfect or selfless. But because they should at least be examined.

Something I’ve noticed is how often the burden of explanation falls on people who don’t want children.

“Why not?”

“What if you regret it?”

“You’ll change your mind when you meet the right person.”

But shouldn’t we be asking the opposite, just as rigorously?

Because the stakes are not the same. Not having a child doesn’t harm anyone. Having one — and regretting it — potentially harms everyone involved. Especially the child.

Then there’s the argument about time. That one day, I might wake up and realize it’s too late. And maybe that’s true.

But also… I don’t think life is about having everything.

There are paths we don’t take. Versions of ourselves we don’t become. And sometimes, that’s not a tragedy. It’s just life.

There are also options. Freezing eggs. Embryos. Adoption. Fostering. Different ways to build a family, if that’s what I choose later on.

But even beyond that, I think I’ve made peace with this:

If I don’t get everything I once thought I wanted, I will still be okay.

Which brings me back to the article I quoted, and my conclusion, in Part 1, which still holds true now.

It’s important to know that a person’s desire and decision are not always the same, nor is the goal for them to be the same. The goal is to know your truth about each of them.

As long as I dare to want, and to question, and — ultimately — to choose, I think I’ll be okay.

Maybe that’s the real answer I’ve been looking for all along.

Have you examined the question of parenthood yourself? Has your inclination evolved over time?

Credits:

Images by Matt Bango, Dakota Corbin, Binyamin Mellish, and Freestocks.