We're you on the fence about kids but still had them?

[hellokitme]

Inspired in part by another thread but wanted to ask;

If you were on the fence about kids or not stereotypically 'maternal'/always wanted them - how did it turn out for you?

Best or worst decision you made?

[quote allfurcoatnoknickers]@Llamasally I just always think to myself "Is DS safe and well cared for" He is? Then he'll be fine while I go to the gym, go to brunch, volunteer etc. I don't want him thinking that only he can make me happy - that's a lot for a little boy.

I also work full time and I don't feel guilty because one of my family's biggest stressors was never having quite enough money. My mum stayed home and then worked part time and we always had money worries and it was so horrible, and stressful, and as a child I felt like it was my fault. I don't want that life for DS. I still bear that burden and I will NOT have it happen to my son too.

I'm just going to quote Glennon Doyle here. She says it better than I ever could:

^Mothers have martyred themselves in their children’s names since the beginning of time. We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist.

What a terrible burden for children to bear—to know that they are the reason their mother stopped living. What a terrible burden for our daughters to bear—to know that if they choose to become mothers, this will be their fate, too. Because if we show them that being a martyr is the highest form of love, that is what they will become. They will feel obligated to love as well as their mothers loved, after all. They will believe they have permission to live only as fully as their mothers allowed themselves to live.

If we keep passing down the legacy of martyrdom to our daughters, with whom does it end? Which woman ever gets to live? And when does the death sentence begin? At the wedding altar? In the delivery room? Whose delivery room—our children’s or our own? When we call martyrdom love we teach our children that when love begins, life ends. This is why Jung suggested: There is no greater burden on a child than the unlived life of a parent^

Oh, and I don't do all the cleaning. Or even most of the cleaning. Fuck that nonsense.[/quote]
@allfurcoatnoknickers wow, that really strikes a chord!

@EmmaStone

I didn't particularly want children, definitely NOT maternal, not interested in babies and toddlers, hadn't held a baby until my SIL had her first (and that was awkward!). But I loved my DH, he wanted kids, and I actually wanted adult children in my future, I just wasn't fussed about the stages to go through to get there. I now have DD15 and DS13, and don't regret any of it. If I'd not had children, my career would have been amazing, I'd have likely travelled the world with work, we may have stayed living in London, eating in the best restaurants and drinking cocktails at the chicest bars. But I don't miss it. I adore my kids, challenging though they can be, and, despite my anxiety on where life will take them for various reasons, I look forward to the adults they will become. DD in some ways is very similar to me at that age (and I think she both recognises and rejects that!), and I think when she has outgrown her teen angst will grow into the most incredible woman. DS is likely to face challenges that I'll never understand throughout his life (he has ASD), but he's such a cheerful soul, I hope he will find his space.

So no, I wasn't 100% committed to being a mother, but once it happened, I was in it for the long haul!

Word for word (literally) until we get to the ages! I also have the same gap. The difference is that my marriage imploded when they were 4 and 6 and I would NEVER have chosen single parenthood. That has been the hardest part by far and had I known it was on the horizon I’d have stayed child free.

Do I regret them though? No. They’re easily the best thing I have done with my life, and any sacrifice I have made in terms of career etc I have made gladly. I just would have liked the journey to be different (for their sakes, not mine).