Recipe: Herb Salad Tasty + Easy + Healthy by Khashayar Parsi – Happiness Between Tails
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The right to legal abortions is in mortal danger — I posted about it before, including here and here and here, etc. Lately, between that horror and the recent annual downpour of Mother’s Day “Odes to Motherhood” asserting all women are some sort of mother, plus “mom = saint,” I’ve yearned for another kind of day.
Dear friends, neighbors, and family, keep in mind that “childfree” implies choice, whereas “childless” is its sad opposite. If your language isn’t listed, it’s only for lack of space:
Happy Childfree Day!
!Feliz día sin niños!
روز آزادی کودکان مبارک
Haurrik gabeko Egun zoriontsua!
چائلڈ فری ڈے مبارک ہو۔
Schönen kinderfreien Tag!
해피 차일드 프리 데이
Feliç dia sense nens!
Glædelig børnefri dag!
La mulți ani fără copii!
ਬਾਲ ਮੁਕਤ ਦਿਵਸ ਮੁਬਾਰਕ
Diwrnod Rhydd o Blant Hapus!
З днем без дітей
Feliĉan Seninfanan Tagon
No offense to kids — I was one myself, hyuk hyuk, but was never into having one.
Seriously, though, as a kid I often reeled over the implication that a woman’s most valuable contribution is as a vessel. Barring that, childhood rumination involved a mini-me who I’d be angelic to in ways that I wished folks would be to me. (Insert genuine listening and caring for mini-me, rather than treating her as an appendage or toy.) Back then, I envied adoptees whose parents, I reasoned, were better equipped to regard their kids as independent and separate souls. If I were ever to become a parent, it would be that way, I told myself.
The two times I got pregnant despite contraceptives freaked me out to the extent that only after terminating them, did I muse on how motherhood might have felt. Still, friends, strangers, and doctors insisted that in due time I would long to be a mother.
Shortly after I married Mr. Marvelous, I was pregnant again. In this case, we get along so well that once some of the initial terror subsided, I chose to go through with the pregnancy. Three months later, I miscarried. Sad, yes. However, it provided a valuable window of empathy for the many women who really want kids but can’t have them.
Also, I reminded myself, if I wanted kids badly, I could just adopt. After a brief glance into what’s involved with fertility drugs and adoption, I knew once and for all that I don’t want motherhood that badly.
My hat is off to those who desire children and become parents.
And I curtsy low for people like me who are best kid-free.
Here are some interviews with people who don’t want kids…
If you’re looking for a man’s take, I found only this one with a guy’s input…
For me, particularly as a younger adult, childfree folks were down-to-earth and easier to be around. Their lives were more fulfilled and interesting. People with kids often acted as if I wasn’t a full adult, even though I fully supported myself and lived independently once I turned eighteen…
Elderly parents moaned a lot about their kids not calling and not visiting. They complained that their grown children only kept in touch when they wanted money, grandkid-sitting, or to tell them what to do. They acted far lonelier than the non-parents who learned early to appreciate a family of friends…
What do you think of childfree people? If you don’t want kids, did people say you’re bound to change your mind? In your opinion, do childfree people seem pitiable or perhaps worse?