The End of the Line
There’s no shame in letting your bad genes die out
Our daughter, our only child, doesn’t want to have kids. She’s been telling us that since she was young.
That is just fine with me. I’ll explain why in a minute.
My husband and I were just like her when we were her age. When we married, we both agreed we were never having kids. It was my stupid biological clock that finally changed things, after several happy years of childless marriage. At age 29, I panicked and convinced my husband we should have kids before my eggs spoiled. After we had our daughter, though, I knew I couldn’t go through pregnancy and the first year with a new baby again. Call me soft, weak, whatever — I knew I didn’t have the physical, mental or emotional strength to do it all again, and I’m glad we didn’t.
For a time, I had quite a bit of guilt about our daughter being an only child. I finally got over that when she became old enough to need things like braces and a car, and I felt huge relief we only had to figure out those kind of expenses for one child. Frankly, I don’t know how our friends with two or more kids afford it.
Also, having a child taught me a lot about myself and my husband. It helped me more clearly see the abuse I’d grown up with, and forced me to figure out how that upbringing was…
