For a lot of people, having kids is the ultimate goal. But personally, bringing a baby into my life would be an absolute nightmare for me right now. I give major props to all the moms out there who’ve successfully done it, because I know my life would be a disaster if I became a mother.
- My relationship would change for the worse. Let’s not BS here: When two become three and a baby crawls onto the scene, things will never be the same again. I don’t care what crap glowing new moms try to spew at me; there’s just no way a child would be good for my relationship. No money + sleepless nights + baby vomit on just about everything = a whole load of strain on my love life. I’m so not into that right now.
- We’d turn into mommy and daddy. What’s even scarier is that we’d no longer be a loved-up couple. Oh no, we’d be ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’. The words themselves make my stomach flip over and threaten to toss up my food. Morphing into a Stepford parent type is my idea of hell on earth. I’m no one’s momma.
- I’d lose touch with my besties. I’m lucky enough to have friends who’ve not felt the need to get knocked up just yet. It’s freakin’ blessing. If I were the first to drink the childbearing Kool-Aid, I’m pretty sure we’d all ‘lose touch’. It’s not that my friends would abandon me; they’d do their best to come see me in my boring maternal state. But, in the end, it just wouldn’t work out. The calls and texts would drip dry and I’d end up making friends with — *gasp* — other moms.
- My body would be absolutely screwed. Okay, my body isn’t perfect; I’m no Beyonce, after all. Still, I eat well, go to the gym, and generally look after myself. There’s no way in hell I’m about to throw all my hard work down the drain for the sake of a child. From baby weight to what goes on ‘down there’, I’m opening myself to any of that right now.
- And I’d end up resenting the kid for it. I don’t particularly want to admit this, but here goes: I would resent TF out of the kid if my body was screwed for life. Every time I would look in the mirror, I’d see a nasty reminder of how that kid screwed me over. I know that I’d have all kinds of maternal love for the child, but a very small part of me would be pissed.
- I would have no spare cash for me. Money doesn’t grow on trees. I’ve worked super hard to earn every cent I have, and I’m proud of that fact. I work hard because I want to have spare cash to enjoy. It’s that simple. If I had a kid, I know for a fact that my money would no longer be mine. Call me selfish, but that’s something I’m not okay with.
- I would have to plan a night out months in advance. I’m 27 years old, and I’ve got plenty of socializing left in me right about now. I’m so not up for having to call a sitter weeks in advance just so I can get just one night out. The very thought is dark, like something out of a bad horror movie. I like my freedom, and a kid would be like a ball and chain.
- Plus, I’d have to kiss goodbye any travel plans. The world is much bigger than my hometown. There’s so much of it that I’ve yet to see, and I’m not ready to kiss that option goodbye. Sure, you can travel when you’ve had kids, but it’s a whole load more hassle (plus, it’s hella expensive). Screw that!
- My priorities would change and I’m not ready for that. I’m not dissing real-life moms here. Those ladies do an awesome job. All I’m saying is that it’s a role I don’t even want to apply for. It means sacrificing a load more than I am ready to sacrifice and doing it all with a smile on your face. I just can’t. Right now, my life’s about me, not my (potential) offspring. And, frankly, I will never apologize for that.
