To give birth or not to give birth, that is the question

I never used to explain to anyone why it is that I don’t have children. Actually I never answered the question in front of myself, either. It was very recently that I started to put certain thoughts into words, even though they had always been obvious to me. I think it’ll be another part of my previous post in which I shared with you my reluctance to multiply typical social behaviours without previous contemplation whether or not they’re actually good for me and my surroundings.

Everyone has a baby and so will I.

Procreation is a topic that on one hand is a purely biological instinct but on the other – poses overwhelming social pressure. Because apparently all (normal) people must want it, or they should at least. You could even say that it’s also political pressure because no government wants to admit that the social security system is bankrupt. Whereas my opinion is that not everyone should have children.

What’s more, most people definitely shouldn’t have children because they’re just not made to be parents. Besides, I completely don’t understand why the world needs the continuity of such a shitty DNA. Well, when it comes to this, on one hand a crazy biologist-eugenic comes out of me, but on the other I also turn out to be the mother goose because I simply cannot look at children suffering. And thanks to some parents’ stupidity who procreate for no reason at all, their children won’t mount to much else. And I don’t only mean pathological families. I’m also talking about people who are pretty cool but who just don’t make good parents. Who present their children with a cold and chaotic upbringing. Or rather breeding because it’s hard to call it upbringing. I am obviously not even talking about people who shouldn’t have children by any means because of biological reasons when the children would be born ill or with a huge risk of being burdened by an illness.

Mariola’s case aka give yourself time to think.

I had a seamstress working for me once upon a time, let’s call her Mariola. Well, Mariola had two kids, one of which had drug-resistant epilepsy. The other one was very fragile and constantly sick. It turned out that it was a result of Mariola having celiac disease, which is an acute allergy to gluten.

So it happened that she hadn’t known she had the disease before her first pregnancy. Her older child was malnourished as a fetus and most likely because of that the brain didn’t develop properly. When she was pregnant with her second child, Mariola realised that she had the disease. Her younger child inherited it from her, which resulted in it being fragile, prone to illness, weak and sentenced to a very restrictive diet for the rest of its life. Okay, I get it. It happened and now that the children are here they need to be raised, fed and everything should be done to provide them with the highest comfort of living. However, during a conversation one afternoon Mariola shocked me with the news that she was considering having another baby. My very not sublime reply was something along the lines of ‘Are you completely fucking mad? Two ill kids aren’t enough for you?’. And also: ‘If you can’t control your maternal instinct then adopt a child instead of sentencing another being to suffering’. As you can imagine Mariola was pretty offended. But the next morning, having slept on it, she admitted that I’d been right.

Russian roulette

But anyway: why do I myself not have any offspring and why didn’t I once try to have it? I won’t go into the issues I’ve discussed on here previously (such as not being able to count on my family in case of something bad). Firstly, I’m not convinced that multiplying my DNA is such a good idea. If it was mine and only mine, why not, I’m pretty intelligent, pretty well formed physically and as a bonus I have sturdy health (even my recent blood test results came as close to perfection as possible). But I have to remember it’s not only my DNA. My genetic code holds many surprises inherited from my ancestors, such as proneness to depression, alcoholism, or maybe MS or cancer hidden somewhere in there. Brr… And that’s not all: you also get your partner’s genes who often turns out to be a surprise himself. Well, imagination wins 1:0.

Secondly, my conviction that I’d be a great mother isn’t so strong, either. Unfortunately, there’s a high risk that as a damaged mother goose, nurturing and improving the welfare of everyone around me, I could inadvertently damage the child with my overprotectiveness. And imagination wins 1:0 once again. Thirdly, when I look at the bizarre direction in which the world– especially here, in Europe – is going, then I’m not sure if I want to bring any life into it, if I want it to function among Muslim hordes and crazy multiculti. Yes, the imagination is winning all the way. Although here it’s not even required, all you have to do is go to Brussels, Oslo or Paris.

Let’s not be selfish.

Fourthly, there are too many people anyway. I feel like it’s time to think about the planet Earth, not only about ourselves. Fifthly, a lot of people cannot have children because a lot of children cannot have parents. Adoption is always an option. I will never understand the fucked up notion that a child has to be biologically ours. No, I’m not against in vitro but sometimes there are technical difficulties on the road to become a mother, such as adhesion in the ovaries. But when both partners are healthy and even in spite of that for years the egg and the sperm don’t want to meet, then maybe it is a sign that mother nature is right and they should consider adoption? Instead of clutching to the notion that the baby MUST be your blood. I don’t understand it. How highly does one have to think of themselves to stick to this thought so stubbornly?

Responsibility and defiance

Sixthly, responsibility. I am very well aware (as opposed to some) that if I ever decide to take this step then in my life there’ll be someone who will need constant taking care of. And always, absolutely always, will I have it at the back of my mind. And once again it raises the same question: can I mount to it? Or will it get the best of me? Could I raise a noble person? Would I find enough time among the pile of work to take care of it in the way I would like to and show it a way to do well in life? And I would need a lot of time because I’m very much against education at schools. My child, if it ever makes its way to this world, will be home schooled. By me and an accomplished governess. Imagination wins 1:0. Seventhly? As always, defiance. True, I do rebel against the fact that the society is trying to convince me that being an incubator is the purpose of my existence. That what matters is WHETHER you’re a mother, not WHAT KIND of mother you are. Bleugh. Defiance wins 20:0.

I don’t know what would have to happen for me to change my life. Not even 5000+ would convince me because I never rely on the state and I never will. I have never taken one penny from the state because it’s completely against my beliefs.