I Don't Have Kids And Please Stop Asking Me About It

This one goes out to all my child-free by choice friends, the ones dreading those inevitable holiday visits. Feel free to just low key post this to your Facebook page and watch the uncomfortable silence of your in-laws and nosy parents.

Dear Nosy In-Laws/Parents,

The holiday season is upon us! Halloween comes and goes, and suddenly it’s all downhill ’til the end of the year. Thanksgiving! Christmas! Ah yes, ’tis the season of parties and gatherings, the season to be jolly… and to set a few boundaries. I’m going to lay some truth on you that your exasperated daughter/daughter-in-law/partner of your child is too polite to tell you.

In a nutshell: STFU about babies.

She gets it. She really does. She isn’t blind to your passive-aggressive reference to Karen and her daughter-in-law’s maternity shoot where she was “so ethereal, barefoot in that stream in the park,” (which, by the way, is a runoff ditch with all the photo filters on. You’re not fooling me, Karen).

She notices how you bring out the old family albums every Thanksgiving and coo over how cute her darling son was and how she’s oh so glad she saved that little sailor outfit for (and here you insert what you think is a sly side glance) “ … someday.”

She notices when you wax poetic about squeezing chubby baby cheeks and tickling tiny toes as you eye her up like a prize winning heifer.

She sees you glancing at her waistline every time you meet up, judging if her baggy shirt is hiding a bump or the fact a new doughnut shop opened up across the street from her work.

She’s tired of taking every proffered glass of wine just to show you that no, there’s no bun in the oven (and she’s also drunk AF … that may be how this got on her Facebook page).

She doesn’t want to hear about how your second cousin’s uncle’s best friend’s daughter went and got a donor and now she has the cutest little babies and hey you know a guy who would TOTALLY be perfect..

No. Just stop. SHE FRIGGING GETS IT.

She notices when you wax poetic about squeezing chubby baby cheeks and tickling tiny toes as you eye her up like a prize winning heifer.

Here’s the thing. Pressuring her, even playfully, even subtly (spoiler: YOU AREN’T SUBTLE) is not going to make her want a kid any sooner. What it will do is make her resent the hell out of you. If she does end up having a kid before she’s ready, she’s the one, not you, who has to deal with the potential consequences; postpartum depression, anxiety, anger, or resentment, a change in career trajectory, etc. Maybe she won’t experience any of these. Maybe she’ll completely embrace motherhood from the start. But either way, that’s her choice to make, without feeling pressure from the people who should be supporting her and her choices.

Pressuring her, even playfully, even subtly (spoiler: YOU AREN’T SUBTLE) is not going to make her want a kid any sooner. What it will do is make her resent the hell out of you.

And when shit hits the fan (possibly literally), where will you be, Grandma? Sure, you’ll come help out. You’ll change a few diapers, give her a night off, and then what? You’ll go home. Or you’ll pull the grandma card. “I did my time,” you’ll laugh, and you know what? You did. You had your kid, you made your choices, now it’s time to step back and let her make hers. If you really want babies in your life so badly then foster. Adopt. Volunteer. But for the love of God, keep your nose out of her uterus.

Love,

Someone Who Gets Very Angry On Behalf Of Her Child-Free Friends