I haven’t posted here in a while due to work and life commitments. I’m less busy now and naturally I’m doing a lot of thinking. Thinking about important things. Thinking about less important things. Mostly worrying, yet always dreaming. Where would I be without those? Umuahia, I suppose.
Some thoughts are recurring. Like Jehovah witness, they just won’t go away. I think we all have quite a few of those thoughts. They come when you least expect. You could, for example, go on a night out, do karaoke with careless abandon, have more than your fair share of wine then come home, shower, ready to sleep and BOOM you randomly start thinking. Sleep deserts you and next thing you know, you’re writing a blog post for the first time in almost a year, in the hope that others might help you figure things out.
I had a pretty great childhood. Nothing luxurious but I never really lacked any necessities. My parents sacrificed everything but their lives to make sure of this. If it ever came to it, I’m kinda sure they would sacrifice their lives for their kids. I’m forever in their debt. I have mentioned the topic of this post tot hem a few times, I’m not quite sure they understood how serious I was. Time will tell.
I love kids. Their innocence, brutal honesty and ability to learn fascinate me. A few of my friends and associates have kids and I care for those kids as much, if not more than, I care for their parents, ** but, apparently, I don’t love kids enough to want to have one, talk more of two or more.
A few months ago, a friend informed me that a mutual friend of ours was pregnant and my 1st thought was “why?”. I didn’t say it out loud at the time but eventually, I did. After the usual expressions of happiness. The awkward and insensitive idiot that I am sometimes. I was genuinely happy for her. What I’m not sure about though is if I was happy that she was having a baby or just happy that a friend was getting something she had wanted for a long time. You know, in the way you’re happy when a friend gets their dream job or lands a huge business deal.
I genuinely can’t find a reason to have a kid. It’s not because kids are expensive, cry a lot for no reason, say and do whatever they like or poop everywhere. It is not because raising kids is a full-time job for at least 2 people or that the odds are stacked against African kids. None of those. All of those can be fixed with money, good parenting or simply with time. What I mean is that if I had a kid and that kid woke up one morning and asked me why I brought them to this world, I wouldn’t have a non-selfish answer for them. An answer that doesn’t involve an iota of my own happiness. An answer that is totally for the kid’s happiness. Not mine, nor the greater good or some similar bullshit. Think about it.
I have thought about this for a while now and I still don’t have that answer. I say “that” because I only need one. One is enough for me. As someone from a culture where having kids are, seemingly, valued more than most places in the world, I know that by writing and posting this, I may alienate some people, some people may even misunderstand it and hate me as a result. My hope is that most people will understand that this is a genuine concern and address it a s such. It would be even better if people who already have kids shared their knowledge with me.
If anyone else has this concern and wishes to express it, I hope I have provided a safe space for them to talk about it in the comments. Anonymously, if necessary.
**At this point while typing this, I remembered that a friend just had his second baby yesterday and that’s probably what brought this thought to the fore. If you read this, Cor, I hope you don’t think I’m an asshole trying to soil your good news. If you do think that, please forgive me.
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