It seems like everyone I know is having kids or has recently had a child. I normally would just shrug this off in comment form like so, “Sucks to be them. I am so not ready for kids right now or maybe ever.” However, I will admit that I’m lying to myself every time I say or think that. I do want kids. But I also want a life that allows me the freedom to do whatever I want. I feel like kids would take that away. Although, I most recently realized that these reasons for not having kids just scratches the surface on a deep seated fear of mine.
I grew up in a divorced family. Childhood is kind of a blur. I honestly don’t remember much, if any, of it. I had to grow up way too fast in order to take care of myself and my siblings. If all that wasn’t enough to groom me into never wanting children, the most unexpected and devastating event happened; a parent’s worst nightmare, losing a child.
Grief is a torcherous gift. It makes me remember but it also makes me forget. I forget to acknowledge the pain and I pretend it doesn’t exist. I pretend nothing happened and that my inability to remember even the happy moments of my childhood, when my brother was still alive, is a normal occurrence. Everyone just forgets things, right? Only difference is that I’ve done it on purpose because I can’t handle the pain.
How does this relate to having children of my own? I fear they will end up just like me. Scared and unsure of what a normal family looks and acts like. Scared of losing something but losing it anyway. Scared of commitment. Scared of being alone, forgetful and being authentic.
I don’t want to raise children that are anything like me. I don’t want them to have the same upbringing I did. I don’t want them to feel all the pain I feel and have felt.
I don’t know how to change the future.
I’m terrified my children will be as fucked up as I am.
There, I said it.
Now, let the healing begin.