What Parents Really Think About People Who Can’t Decide If They Want Children
Last Saturday, I was flipping turkey burgers on my rusted backyard grill when Lila, my 32-year-old next door neighbor, pulled me aside out of earshot of the kids chasing each other with water guns. My 7-year-old had already squirted ketchup all over the new deck rug, so I was already halfway frazzled when she asked, quiet like she was scared of the answer: “As a mom of two, do you judge me for still not knowing if I want kids?”
I paused, because I didn’t have a quick answer. I waved over Mia, a friend from book club who’s 40 and has no kids, and Mark, my cousin who had his first kid at 22 and now has three teenagers, to weigh in. We leaned against the fence while corn sizzled on the grill, and the conversation went a lot different than it would have 10 years ago.
Mark went first. He said back when he had his first kid young, he used to think people who dragged their feet on deciding were just selfish. He’d say things like “If you don’t know by 30, you never will” and complain that people were putting their careers over building a family. Then last fall, his oldest daughter, who’s 20 now, sat him down and said she doesn’t know if she ever wants kids. “Suddenly it hit me,” he said, wiping grill grease off his jeans. “I decided when I was 22 because everyone I knew was doing it. I never even stopped to think if it was what I actually wanted, just what I was supposed to do. Who am I to rush someone else into that?”
Mia nodded. She’s known since she was 22 she doesn’t want kids, but she said she gets indecision more than anyone. “People act like you have to pick a side by 25,” she said. “Either you’re desperate for kids or you’re firmly childfree. If you’re in the middle, everyone treats you like you’re wasting time or confused. No one ever talks about how feelings can change.”
I get that, because I was that person in the middle for years. I got married when I was 25, and everyone started asking when we’d have kids. I couldn’t answer. I loved my job planning community garden projects, I loved being able to leave town for a weekend hike whenever I wanted, and every time I held a friend’s newborn I just felt awkward, not that warm rush of instinct everyone talks about. My mom kept reminding me my fertility window was closing, my aunt brought it up every Thanksgiving, and even some of my parent friends back then said I was being irresponsible for waiting. I almost broke up with my husband because he wanted to start trying a year after we got married and I couldn’t make myself say yes. It took me three more years to wake up one morning and think, yeah, I want this. It wasn’t a big lightning bolt moment. I just had a slow shift, like the weather turning from summer to fall. No one could have pushed me into that decision any faster, and if they’d made me decide earlier, I would have gotten it wrong.
I think the biggest mistake parents make when talking about undecided people is we forget what it felt like to be unsure. So many of us rewrite our own stories after we have kids, to make it seem like we always knew what we wanted. That makes indecision look like some kind of flaw, when it’s just a normal part of thinking through one of the biggest decisions you’ll ever make.
From what I’ve seen, most of us who’ve been at this a while have pretty straightforward rules for how to talk about this. First, stop asking people to defend their indecision. If someone tells you they don’t know yet, don’t follow it up with “When do you think you’ll figure it out?” or “Aren’t you worried you’ll leave it too late?” Just say “That’s a really big call, I get why you’d take your time” and change the subject. That’s it, it doesn’t need more probing.
Second, if you’re talking to another parent who’s judging someone for being undecided, push back a little with your own experience if you have it. I was at a PTA meeting a few months ago where a group of moms were talking about a 34-year-old relative who doesn’t know if she wants kids, and one of them said she was being selfish. I said “I didn’t decide until I was 28, I just needed more time. It’s not selfish to not want to rush into something that changes your whole life.” No one argued after that, because it’s hard to argue with someone’s actual experience.
Third, don’t offer unsolicited timelines. It doesn’t matter if you think 25 is the best age to have kids or 35 is better. That’s your experience, not theirs. If they don’t ask for your opinion, keep it to yourself.
After we finished talking at the barbecue, Lila laughed and said she’d been worried all the parents would gang up on her. She said most of her family keeps telling her she has to decide by the end of the year. We all just shrugged. Mark told her his daughter is still undecided at 20, and that’s fine. Mia told her she can change her mind 10 times before she picks, if that’s what she needs.
Last week, I ran into Lila at the grocery store. She was picking out cereal for her weekend camping trip, and she said she’s still undecided. She and her partner are planning a trip to Japan next spring, and they’re going to wait until after that to think about it again. I didn’t give her any advice, just handed her an extra coupon I had for oatmeal, and we complained about how the rain has been ruining all our backyard plans.
I don’t know if she’ll decide to have kids one day or not. Most of the parents I talk to these days don’t really care, honestly. We’re too busy dealing with scraped knees and homework fights and last-minute grocery runs at 9 pm to worry about what other people decide for their own lives. The only thing most of us agree on is that deciding too early for the wrong reasons is way worse than taking your time to figure it out.
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