When I look back at my childhood, I can now see “signs” of me not being meant to be a mother being there all along. I only had one doll; and it was my brother who always wanted to play with it. I largely preferred losing myself in the magic world of books, imagining future travels and discoveries.
But it wasn’t until a lot later that I truly worked through my feelings about motherhood. I realise now that embracing the fact that I never want to have children, in spite of family and society pressure, was akin to experiencing mourning for me. I had to let go of the hope of making one day my parents jump with joy the same way they did when my sister-in-law announced her pregnancy; renounce the universal sympathy and understanding reserved for those who follow “the natural path”.
I deeply care about our Earth and I can’t imagine putting another human in a world where we already take up so much space and where there are so many living beings to take care of. I identify as an antinatalist in that way. Recently, I quit my job and sold the caravan I had been living in for 5 years to volunteer in a sea turtle rescue and rehabilitation centre. I am putting all of my energy into helping another species. They deserve it.
I spent most of my adult life being single, and I often get the comment “oh, you know, when you’ll meet the right one…”, sometimes accompanied by a pitiful look. It hurts me that people can’t see my values and ethics, and as a consequence even myself, as being enough.