I always feel a little more on the defensive when I involve myself in conversation on this topic because it's a deeply personal one where the risk of being misunderstood feels higher than usual and I really don't have the patience for the arguments that often follow. Unfortunately, clarity is rarely armour against that kind of thing. You can say exactly what you mean and someone will still find the version of it they'd rather argue with.

So I'll just say what I mean, and ignore any responses that don't feel very well considered in context of what I know I meant. If you feel like this is dismissive of your opinion, well, it probably is, but your opinion is your opinion. This is something I have thought very long, hard and deep about.

It started, as these things often do, earlier than I really had the language for it. I had no interest in playing with baby dolls as a kid. It wasn't an issue of having a gendered preference for toys because I still loved play kitchens, Barbie dolls, Polly Pockets, and the like. I just didn't have any any interest in "playing mum". Looking back, this distinction feels important, even though I couldn't articulate it at the time.

The first time I ever babysat was also the last time I ever babysat. The children themselves were totally fine, but the overall experience was not. There was just something about the weight of being responsible for the lives of beings with certain requirements and limited autonomy that felt fundamentally wrong for me. It's not that I didn't have the ability to keep them safe and occupied, it's that I just wasn't the best person to be doing it.

For most of my teen years, I assumed the motherly urge would arrive eventually. That's the story I was told: you'll grow up, get married, and have babies. But the urge never arrived for me. There was one brief moment in 2017 where I thought it might be an interesting challenge for me, but even then I recognised that was something different from wanting to be a mother. Curiosity about an experience isn't the same was actually wanting it.

Curiosity was what lead me to look into it. Exactly how common was it to simply not want children? Was this another undiagnosed dimension of my brain doing its own thing? What could possibly happen if I opted out of doing something I was expected to eventually do?

What I found was that it's actually not that uncommon, and my reason for not doing it was actually entirely normal, reasonable and frankly, kind. The rates of abuse and neglect in the world says a lot about the gap between who should become a parent and who actually does than anything else could. I'm not saying I would have been an abusive or deliberately neglectful parent, but I don't think I would have been a good parent either.

I couldn't live with knowing I was subjecting a whole human being to a life where there was even the smallest of doubts about whether they were wanted. That's the most honest conclusion I could reach.

This is why I find the accusation of selfishness in childfree women who simply don't have any maternal instinct so strange. Recognising your limitations as a caregiver and refusing to pass the consequences of that onto a person who didn't ask to exist seems to me like one of the least selfish reasons to not have children out there. Popping them out and just hoping the myth of "biology" kicks in later is reckless.

As the years have passed, I haven't felt it necessary to revisit my decision. In fact, I've only found additional reasons not to procreate. Even if we leave out the fact that I simply don't desire motherhood, the future is not exactly selling itself as something worth inheriting. I wouldn't feel right handing someone a world like this and expecting them to be grateful for it. The more I pay attention to the state of things, the more that feeling solidifies.

Most recently, beyond the broader bleakness of social regression, climate change, and economic turmoil, the ever-growing amount of documented evidence showing that institutions involved in protecting the welfare of children have been complicit in their abuse makes it even more difficult to conceive of conceiving. The risk of my child becoming the victim of a government-supported paedophile ring is low, but not none at all.

That being said, I will admit to also appreciating my life without children in one particularly "selfish" way. Being able to move through it without having to account for dependents definitely affords me a special kind of freedom and privilege that parents don't have. I see this as an added benefit rather than a reason, but I also don't think any other childfree people who do see it as a reason should be subjected to any more (or less) judgement about it. It's valid!

As for the other reasons some may argue on the subject:

• "Children are the greatest joy in life!" Sure. For you. My decision not to have children doesn't have any affect on your belief in this. You can absolutely keep finding joy in parenthood without involving me.
• You do not need children to live a full and fulfilling life. In fact, it's easier to experience MORE of everything life has to offer without them. Raising kids is just one thing you could do with life.
• Legacies don't require descendants to be passed down. I personally don't know a damn thing about any of my great-great relatives, but I know plenty about childfree/less public figures who left behind value to this world.
• Expecting anything from someone whose existence you chose for them is unfair. Children should not be seen as future caretakers or used as emotional void-fillers.
• It's better to regret not having children than resent having them. This should speak for itself.
• The falling birth rate is both not my problem to solve and an entirely conflicting issue to the one we were presented with in the 90s. I can't help but wonder if I internalised the whole "the planet is overpopulated!" rhetoric that was happening at the time and added that to my stance.
• "But what about your husband? Do you worry that you're holding him back from having children?" It's been 20 years. I think if he secretly wanted children, he would have done something about it by now.
• Pregnancy carries a pretty hefty health risk. As someone already disabled by chronic illness, I'll pass on that!
• Something about God...