Thank You, Menopause, for Taking Away My Ability to Have Children

It’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

Photo by Shelby Miller on Unsplash

I don’t have children. I don’t want children. And now, finally, I can’t have children. Thank you, Menopause, for finally making my insides match, well, my other insides.

I’ve always known in my head and in my heart that I never wanted kids. Unfortunately, for a good portion of my life, my uterus and other reproductive organs may or may not have been on the same page. That’s one of the many reasons why I find menopause so enjoyable.

I can’t get pregnant.

Occasionally, someone will ask me why I don’t have kids. Why anyone would ask is anyone’s guess, but I’m always happy to enlighten them.

I simply don’t like anything about children. From newborns to teens, they just don’t resonate with me, and that’s putting it nicely. I don’t enjoy the sight of babies. I don’t find them cute. They don’t fill me with a sense of longing. I’m not too fond of the way they smell. I despise the way they sound.

I loathe children the way Dr. Zira loathes bananas.

Toddlers are like babies, only stickier and faster-moving. That doesn’t sweeten the pot. I don’t like their high-pitched voices or the way they touch everything in sight.