As a Parent, Here’s What I Really Think About People Who Can’t Decide If They Want Kids
The grease from the turkey burgers was sticky on my wrists when Lila said it. We were halfway through my annual backyard end-of-summer barbecue, my 6-year-old had just dropped a blue raspberry popsicle directly on the new cedar deck, and my sister-in-law had just leaned in to ask Lila and her partner when they’d be joining the “kid club.” “We still don’t know if we want any,” Lila said, stirring her lemonade a little too fast. The conversation at the table stuttered for half a second before someone shifted to talk about the upcoming school bond, and that was that.
After everyone left, Lila stayed behind to help me stuff paper plates into the trash, and she apologized for killing the mood. “I feel like every parent I know thinks I’m being ridiculous for not just picking one answer or the other,” she said, wiping a smudge of ketchup off the patio table. “Like I’m wasting time or being selfish.”
I handed her a garbage bag and told her I get it. I waffled for three full years before I got pregnant with my oldest. I swung from “we’ll start trying next year” to “I could never give up my spontaneous weekend trips for kids” every other month. I had multiple parents tell me I was overthinking it, that I just needed to let it happen, that doubt is normal for everyone. Now I’m here, two kids, a minivan, a fridge covered in artwork, and I still get the indecision. My 10-year-old interrupted us mid-talk to beg for a glass of chocolate milk, and when I came back from the kitchen, I told Lila that most parents I know get the decision wrong in one of two ways. They either write off indecision as just cold feet that’ll disappear once a baby is in your arms, or they assume you’ve already decided you don’t want kids and you’re just too scared to say it out loud. Both are wrong.
Indecision isn’t a phase, and it’s not a cop-out. It’s just taking the biggest decision you’ll ever make seriously. As a parent, I know better than anyone how much this job rewires every part of your life. Why would I judge someone for wanting to be sure before they sign up for that?
Three different undecided friends have asked me about being a parent in the last six months, and I don’t give the scripted answer anymore. I used to just say “it’s the greatest thing I ever did” and leave it at that. Now I tell them the specific, unglamorous stuff. I tell them I cried in the Target parking lot for 20 minutes when my oldest was 18 months old because I’d forgotten the diapers, I was out of milk, and I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in three months. I tell them that last month my 6-year-old brought me a lumpy dandelion she picked on the way home from school, and I stuck it in a tiny vase on my desk, and that moment was better than any backpacking trip I ever took before kids. I tell them some days I daydream about quitting everything and moving to a small cabin in the mountains with just my husband, no homework checks, no snack runs, no mediating fights over who gets the last Lego. It’s not that one side is a lie and the other is true. Both are true. And that’s exactly why it’s okay to take time to decide if that tradeoff is worth it for you.
If you’re a parent talking to someone who’s undecided, there are a few small, concrete things I’ve started doing that feel way better than the default reactions. First, don’t say “you’ll change your mind” when they tell you they’re unsure. That just tells them you’re not listening to what they’re actually saying. Instead, say “That’s such a hard call, I get why you’d take your time.” That’s it, no extra unsolicited advice. Second, if they ask you about your experience, don’t sugarcoat it. You don’t have to bash being a parent to be honest, but don’t pretend it’s all perfect birthday parties and bedtime snuggles. The sugarcoating only makes people feel like they’re wrong for having doubts. Third, don’t push them for a timeline. Fertility anxiety is real, but no one benefits from panicking someone into a decision they’re not ready for.
A lot of parents I know talk about undecided people like they’re immature, like they’re putting their own comfort above what matters. But the most selfish thing I can imagine is having a kid just to please your parents, or your friends, or society, when you don’t actually want to put in the work. Taking the time to decide, even if it takes years, is the most responsible thing you can do.
Last week, Lila texted me a photo of a tabby kitten they just adopted. She said it was practice for being responsible, but they still don’t know. I texted back “That’s awesome, take all the time you need.” I don’t know what she’ll decide. I don’t know if she’ll end up a parent in five years, or if she’ll live a whole happy life filled with spontaneous trips and kitten snuggles and no 5 a.m. wake-up calls. Either way is fine by me.
I still have days where I look at my life and wonder what the other path would have been like. Doubt doesn’t go away just because you made a decision. It’s just part of being a person who thinks about the big stuff. I don’t blame anyone for wanting to work through that before they bring a kid into the world.
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