A few years ago, it happened for the first time. I had just said the soon-to-be-familiar phrase, “I’m not sure if we want to have kids,” while leaning over the terrazzo countertops of my childhood friend’s North London home and watching her two young daughters play nearby. I prepared myself for the plethora of reasons why motherhood was the greatest delight in life, our reason for existing, a chance for personal development and fulfilment, and the prospect of loneliness in old age if I chose not to become a mother.

Rather, she gazed at me while holding a coffee cup. She said, without a hint of irony, “Don’t do it.”

I was taken aback. This acquaintance had been determined to become a mother since she was seven years old. Her children’s artwork filled their home, demonstrating her love and concern for her family as well as her work as an elementary school teacher. She continued by saying that parenthood wasn’t as vital as she had previously believed, but it wasn’t that she didn’t love her kids. She would advise a sidestep if given the opportunity.

I’ve heard this warning in one form or another dozens of times since. From my sister’s friends, who are a generation older and about to become empty nesters, to your neighbours and coworkers, some of whom are grandparents with decades of experience, to your contemporaries in the trenches. We properly honour our mothers and, for some of us, assess our maternal impulses. However, after reading all of these warning stories, I’m left wondering why so many parents don’t seem to be happy with their decision.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her children but that parenthood wasn’t as necessary as she’d thought.

I always thought I would have children while I was growing up, so I was shocked to hear young girls like my friend express a desire for them. Before that, I had a lot of things I wanted to do. I assumed that after doing those things (spoiler alert: I didn’t become a prima ballerina or win the Olympics), my desire for kids would naturally surface. However, that hasn’t actually occurred either (more spoilers).

Nevertheless, I am aware of how endearing and uplifting the intimacy of raising a tiny child can be. I never doubted that being a mom was an incredibly fulfilling experience. After love and marriage, there is the inevitable baby in a baby carriage, which is the last logical step. Correct? However, this directive has taken on a decidedly sinister tone at a time when women are losing their reproductive rights, it is infamously difficult for women to decide to get sterilised “in case they regret it,” and the current administration is actively working to encourage us to have more children.

And the data backs up all these misgivings. According to a Surgeon General advisory, “48 percent of parents say that most days their stress is completely overwhelming compared to 26 percent among other adults.” The pressures of social media, the necessity within most families for both parents to maintain full-time jobs, and other modern-day complications are highlighted as areas of concern. It’s no wonder U.S. birth rates are steadily declining.

What fascinates me, though, is why people who seem to be happy and successful are telling me and many other prospective parents to avoid them. Perhaps there is less pressure on women to describe parenthood as the pinnacle of their life’s work now that they are more fully employed. Or maybe it is just less taboo to talk about suffering. In any case, I’m getting a lot of criticism, and so are other people who are unsure.

“There’s always been sh-t in raising kids.”

“My mother said to only even consider having a child if I’m absolutely sure it’s what I want,” one friend told me. While working as a nanny, another friend recalled multiple orthodox Jewish mothers at a New York children’s gymnastics school telling her how lucky she and her wife were not to be parents. Angela Chiang, a figure skating coach in Manhattan, told me it’s not unusual in difficult moments—a toddler refusing to put a helmet on or a tween giving an extra dose of sass—for parents of her students to say things such as, “I would never change my life, but don’t have kids.”

This advise, which varies from being light-hearted to being really serious, seems to be coming from folks who are devoted to their kids and grandkids. The tone is never one of remorse or hushed tones. It also doesn’t seem like a “grass is greener” mentality. Many of these parents have worked full-time jobs both with and without kids. Simply put, they would advise the former if they had the gift of hindsight.

My neighbour Alison Sheehan commented, “There’s always shit in raising kids.” According to the former principle of a public school who currently serves as the director of the American Museum of Natural History’s Professional Learning Gottesman Centre for Science Teaching and Learning, however, something has changed. During the 1990s, it was common for her three kids to spend hours playing on her street and having sleepovers several times a week.

Today, her daughter says she won’t ever let Sheehan’s 3-year-old granddaughter spend the night at friends’ houses. Sheehan understands why. With apps like Citizen blasting notifications of every single offender and incident every single minute of the day, and online influencers outlining all the ways parents are falling short, the push to be ever-present is overwhelming. “When I look at parenting now, there’s no joy anymore,” she said.

Parenthood should be treated with the same intensity as the end of life.

Recent decades have seen a proliferation of “best practice” techniques for raising children—many of which do tangibly improve health and wellness outcomes. But the sheer quantity of information out there, from momfluencers with a million different hacks to conflicting pediatric advice (“Do I burp my newborn on his side? His front? Do I burp him often? Never?” my cousin wondered, referring to the myriad methods endorsed by professionals), leaves parents in confusion.

“There’s a confidence that the generation before us has about parenting,” another friend told me. Today, he said, they have to lean into gentle parenting techniques, provide multiple food options for his children to explore and promote a positive attitude toward food at mealtimes, and monitor screen time. If they don’t? They’re bad parents, condemning their children to a lifetime of low self-esteem, eating disorders, and poor social skills. “It’s relentless,” he said.

It goes without saying that not everyone has the time to think about the potential impact of parenting a child on their lives before they are in the thick of it. Another factor is the deep-seated desire that many people have to have a child, which frequently eliminates any uncertainty or doubt. However, one thing I heard from every parent I talked to was how unprepared they felt. They had engaged in far more discussion while contemplating a new career or a new relationship—possibly less significant life decisions.

“I thought that there would be some magic change where I would be sure/happy/ready when my kid arrived, and that just didn’t happen,” Sam, a Brooklyn mom of a 2-and-a-half-year-old, told me via email. She said that even with careful consideration, she didn’t realize just how hard it would be on her career and relationship.

“Any cracks in our relationship or annoyances I had with him have been intensely exacerbated by having a kid.”

“I would do it all again. But 18 years into it, I look back and hardly recognize who I am.”

Others I talked to said that after becoming parents, they were so focused on their kids that they hardly knew their husbands anymore. This is perhaps the warning that worries me the most. I’m confident that I wouldn’t jeopardise our strong relationship for anything. According to many, a partnership is irrevocably altered when the person you love the most abruptly stops being your significant other.

And you’re not just sacrificing partnership. “I lost so much of myself to be a mom,” one of my sister’s friends told me. “Of course, I would do it all again, because I know this incredible human now. But 18 years into it, I look back and I hardly recognize who I am.”

Many people wish they had had more time to think about that loss—the feeling of transitioning into a different state. Sam could only describe the idea of being a mother like death before she had her baby.

I understand her meaning. She has supposedly lost an irrevocable piece of who she is and the life she led before to the birth of her kid. That isn’t inherently harmful. However, Sam thinks that parenting should be approached with the same seriousness and guidance as dealing with death.

If I said that these warnings weren’t intimidating, I would be lying. However, many around me appear to be arguing that neither choice will provide me with a direct path to fulfilment or happiness, regardless of whether I become a mother. And their honesty’s beauty lies in that. The important thing is that we would-be mothers may, for the time being at least, pick our own paths and accept the happiness, regret, and ambivalence that come with them, regardless of the messages we receive from online trad wives, would-be grandparents, or the philosophies of the past.

Please SHARE this article with Family and Friends and let us know what you think in comments!