Even Marie Stopes had a kid

I’ve just been to the Family Planning Clinic, where I go regularly to plan not having a family.  Actually they’ve recently renamed it the Sexual Health Clinic, maybe as a tacit acknowledgement of the existence of those few strange and incomprehensible women out there who insist on having sex that isn’t exclusively for the purposes of procreation.  

They’re very tolerant of this proclivity of mine.  Sometimes they ask outright, “Are you planning to have children soon?”  (Not, are you planning to have them at all, but “How long do you think you can get away with this?”)  

To which I reply, “No, we don’t want to have children,” and they invariably (and I mean EVERY SINGLE TIME) hold up their hands placatingly and say, “And that’s your choice, of course.”  I always get the feeling they’ve been to a recent training course entitled, How to be politically correct with weirdos who might sue you for insulting their life choices.  Such courses probably cover foot fetishists, porn stars and intentionally childfree women in one go. 

Yes, I’m aware it’s my choice, thank you.  I don’t need you to affirm, acknowledge or reassure me about it. 

Today the nurse went for the more roundabout route and merely said, in a slightly suggestive tone,

“And what age are you?”

“32”

“Any big plans?”

I was on the brink of mentioning my thoughts on doing a Masters after my degree when I thought, “Why would she want to know that?”  It actually took me a moment to realise she meant kids. 

“No, we don’t want to have kids.”

“And that’s your choice, of course.”

Is it really.  Thanks.

Actually I love the women at my local FPA; it just amuses me the way they, with the best intentions in the world, deal with someone who doesn’t want kids.  I suppose they must spend half their time dealing with people who can’t have kids so maybe they think I’m an ungrateful cow.  But then, they must also deal with a lot of people who don’t want kids but have found themselves suddenly not in a position to argue about it thanks to a bottle of vodka and a wonky condom, so you’d think it would be a nice thing for them to see someone who’s being proactive in ensuring that won’t happen to them.  I.e. me. 

Still, my basic fear about the decision not to have kids has always been, “Well, what else is there?”  The lives of all the parents I know are at least full, (if full of crappy stuff I want no part of).  I dread the idea of a life that feels empty, and I stare into my 30s and 40s and 50s, (when all my friends will have the milestones lined up – nursery school, primary school, high school, rebellion, boy/girl friends, garage band, university, leaving home, grandchildren) and think, “Will anything ever happen to me again?”

After Babes’ sterilisation (poor Babes) the big question will be “What now?”  Because, actually, here we are: 32.  And no big plans.