Motherhood is a Choice: Not Inevitable or an Obligation
And I’ve made my choice
While growing up, it was normal for me to envision my future and see a life with a nice little family. Every other thing — my dreams, my desires, community — was meant to find a way to fit around this ultimate and immovable fixture of marriage and kids.
My younger self never saw marriage and motherhood as an option or a choice I had a say in. As a girl, it was fated and that’s the way things were.
That was why as little girls raised in Nigeria, older women told us things like, “Be strong, you’re a woman,” when you fell from your bike and scraped a knee. “Is this how you’re going to cry during labour?”
That’s why when you complained about the heat in the kitchen as you cooked, or how your arms ached from turning a pot of eba, you were told to keep quiet. “How will you do it when you have to cook for your husband and children?”
My younger self never saw marriage and motherhood as an option or a choice I had a say in. As a girl, it was fated and that’s the way things were.
We were raised to see motherhood not just as an inevitability that would come at the right time — when we were married to an acceptable man — but also as a duty. A price we paid for being women. The thing we owed the world. (The messed up nature of this stretches to the fact that women who can’t have children due to health complications are made to feel inadequate and as if they are failures, which is wrong in so many ways).
We were born girls, so they told us our very existence revolved around what our bodies could offer the world. To think otherwise wasn’t an option. Who are you to be born with a womb only to choose not to use it? Who do you think you are? How dare you? The very idea of it was inconceivable.
Those were thoughts we shouldn’t have. But as a teenager, I began to have these thoughts. They sprouted as unidentifiable flowers in my mind that grew into a garden till the day I could look at a friend and say without shame or guilt, “I don’t want to have kids.” And I know how it all started.
I’m an aunt to three boys, or like one of my friends said, I’m an aunt x3. I became one at 14 years old. It was exciting. I had never had a baby in close proximity for more than a few hours.
Although I was in boarding school at that point, I still got more than enough time to see this motherhood thing pan out with my own eyes.
The exhaustion in my sister’s eyes from sleep deprivation. A cranky baby that wouldn’t stop crying even though they were fed and not sleepy. Sore nipples from breastfeeding. Weaning and potty training. How expensive everything was. How quickly they outgrew their clothes and needed new ones. The cost of diapers.
I witnessed all these and so much more. Then I witnessed it again and again with another sister.
We were born girls, so they told us our very existence revolved around what our bodies could offer the world.
When I was younger I never gave too much thought to having children and had no burning desire for them. I always thought that longing would come as I grew older. During conversations with my friends when we talked about kids, I’d smile and say I wanted two or three because those seemed like reasonable numbers.
But after being inducted into auntyhood, when my friends talked about how many children they wanted with some of them claiming they wanted twins or six children, I’d say cross my arms and say, “hmm” in that way that meant “you don’t know the things my eyes have seen.”
As little girls, a lot of us learn to see motherhood as the ultimate achievement a woman can attain. But we aren’t told what exactly it entails. Nobody sits you down to explain the changes that happen to your body when you’re pregnant.
We were raised to see motherhood not just as an inevitability that would come at the right time — when we were married to an acceptable man — but also as a duty. A price we paid for being women.
They don’t tell you the possible complications that may arise. They don’t tell you that you might not recognise your body after giving birth and they don’t tell you how to deal with that. They fail to mention that postpartum depression is a real thing that affects women. They leave out the fact that as soon as your baby leaves your body, all the knowledge of motherhood isn’t bestowed upon you, but you have to learn it along the way. Get frustrated and make mistakes.
I wonder if we had a test trial for motherhood, if we were shown a glimpse of it, how it would affect this aspiration to become a mother.
It’s also important to acknowledge that parenting is an extremely important job because of the extent to which it shapes a person’s life. Childhood trauma follows us into adulthood and the wounds of our inner child have to be tended to long after we’ve left the confines of childhood.
They don’t tell you the possible complications that may arise. They don’t tell you that you might not recognise your body after giving birth…
With the way society is structured, the brunt of the job of shaping a child’s life falls on the mother as in most cases, they devote more time to child care than fathers. So motherhood means holding the power to influence the trajectory of a person’s life, who they grow up to be and how they function in society — that’s a big deal.
It is a decision where once you make it, you can’t take it back. You are responsible for a human person and you’ll continue to worry and fret over them for as long as they live. It’s a lot of work and a lifelong commitment.
As I realised these things, motherhood seemed less appealing to me.
“Why do you want to have children?” I don’t think that’s a question people ask themselves or others often. That’s because we live in a society where having kids is the default. It is expected, especially of women.
When you’ve reached “marriageable age” and ticked off matrimony, the next thing people want to see is a pregnant belly. Nowadays, you’ll have a brief moment of grace where you’re assumed to be enjoying the novelty of married life devoid of kids.
But when this period elapses and you don’t seem to be preparing to welcome mini-yous into the world, people start assuming something is wrong. They can’t comprehend alternatives to the well-trodden path of getting married and expecting almost immediately after. So when people see married couples who don’t want kids, they think it’s bizarre and wonder why they got married in the first place.
When you’ve reached “marriageable age” and ticked off matrimony, the next thing people want to see is a pregnant belly.
But when you ask the question, “Why do you want to have children?” You see the truly bizarre thing in the answers.
Weaved in with the expectation of society at large to start having kids after marriage is the pressure from parents and other family (for instance grandparents and meddling aunties). So to some people, whether they are aware of it or not, the biggest motivation to have children is to give their parents the joy of holding a child of their child in their arms or to get meddling family off their backs.
Then some people see children as an investment. You spend an enormous amount of money on them and take care of them so in return, they owe you (even though they didn’t ask you to bring them into this world). You were responsible for them so in your old age, it’s their turn to be responsible for you. Which is why when someone says they don’t want to have kids, a popular question is “Who will take care of you in your old age?” Which is an extremely selfish and self-centred reason for having children.
“Don’t say that out loud,”
“You’ll change your mind later,”
“God forbid! Weren’t you born? So why would you not want to give birth?”
“You’re selfish.”
These are some other replies you get when you say you don’t want to have children. They can be thrown at you by random strangers on the internet or acquaintances or family — both close and distant.
These people give their unsolicited opinions and advice as if they would be with you every step of the way and support you when things get difficult. A lot of the time, they offer their thoughts and prayers and nothing more.
We live in a society where having kids is the default. It is expected, especially of women.
We live in a society that has normalised the policing of women’s bodies. This is why people feel entitled to give their opinions on a woman’s decision to live life child-free. Society has made them believe women’s bodies are for the public to analyse, comment on, and dictate how and what they should use them for.
Regardless of all the pressure and opinions, when your reason for having children (and a lot of other things in life) is tied to external factors and not a genuine desire to have them, there’s a big problem.
We can’t deny that motherhood is a lot of work. There’s sacrifice involved and putting your life and dreams on pause or adjusting it to fit around your child. And when you want to do a good job of raising kids, it doesn’t require just your presence and financial capabilities — which can be overwhelming because children are so expensive — but it requires your emotional capacity, patience, love and so much attention too.
Although society has made it seem as if women have all it takes to be mothers ingrained in them from birth and that mothers are superheroes who can do it all, having a supportive partner along with community is extremely important. It really takes a village to raise a child and having people around other than their parents whom they can trust and confide in is important for children. And when it is done because you genuinely want it and have the support you need, motherhood can be such a beautiful thing. I can’t refute that fact. But it isn’t for me.
We live in a society that has normalised the policing of women’s bodies. This is why people feel entitled to give their opinions on a woman’s decision to live life child-free.
I know there are things mothers have to sacrifice. When I’m babysitting my nephews, I know I have to put certain things on hold and dedicate my energy and attention to them. And I love doing that because I love them so much. (I’m a proud aunt x3.)
However, thanks to this partial trial run I’ve had, I also know I don’t want kids of my own. I don’t want to make those sacrifices and I don’t want to live that life — I love my solitude and my sleep amongst other things — and I don’t need to explain myself to anybody. If I eventually change my mind in the future, it’ll be from a place of informed decision and because I want to. That’s the way it should be.
I saw somewhere the idea that not having kids should be the default. Then people would have kids only if they really, really, really want to. And I agree with that. The decision to have them can’t be something you’re on the fence about because there’s no going back. If you have a child you’ll be responsible for a whole human person and for the trauma they experience and who they grow up to be. We live in a world of damaged people walking around because of messed up childhoods.
Women should be raised knowing they have a choice and motherhood doesn’t have to be the default. Having kids is a choice, so let’s stop making it seem like anything other than that. Women don’t owe kids to their parents, family, partners or the world.
Women have a right to do what they want with their bodies and it’s nobody’s business what they decide. They shouldn’t be shamed if they decide motherhood is not for them. Others should be shamed if they believe they have a say in what a woman decides to do with her body. It’s time for society to stop bullying people into making life-altering decisions they don’t want to make.
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