I’m Going to Be an Aunt… and I’m Not Happy

Some years ago, one of my siblings expressed an interest in not having children. Based on the details of that conversation, I never categorized him as staunchly childfree, but perhaps more comfortably on the fence. He would have been quite happy to not have children, but becoming a parent would not be devastating either. Falling prey to carelessness, he is now going to be a father. And though I wish him happiness, I mourn the childfree community’s loss, and my loss.

My feelings on this are very complex, with tentacles that spread far and deep. I have spent (probably far too much) time reflecting on the extent of my sadness and why this should bring me to tears, and I believe I have come to a modicum of understanding of my heartbreak.

I acknowledge that many of my reasons are selfish. The rejoicing of my parents dredges up reminders of my family’s disappointment in me. I often think I have accepted, for example, my father’s wish that I, his firstborn, had been a son. Now that the son, the golden child, will give the family its only grandchild, I have a new and enduring reminder of why I am second-class.

I will be losing one of my dearest friends, at least for the next 12-18 years or so, and maybe for life. Every person I have known pre- and post-parenthood has become worse after becoming a parent. Perhaps I just know the wrong people, but I have only ever seen parenthood exacerbate people’s most negative qualities, or take otherwise kind and interesting people and push them further down the spectrum of selfish, entitled, single-minded, boring, obsessive, self-aggrandizing...

At the very least, I don’t like to be around children, not even relatives. I dread the thought of future family Christmases and reunions. We have had the most wonderful visits / holidays, vacations together, and so on. That will all be over. The quiet joy of meaningful conversation with people I love will be replaced with people being interrupted by and obsessing over a shrieking brat.

I wanted my brother to have what DH and I have. This one is a little sticky because, of course, for all of its benefits, it also entails the pain of being an outsider and a disappointment to others. Even still, I wished for him to have the best marriage possible, less worry, more general happiness, and freedom.

Or even, I wanted “more” for him -- more than just to follow the lifescript, more opportunity to grow his amazing accomplishments.

I’m also sad for the orphans. I realize I risk opening myself up for some snarky comment like “How many kids have you adopted?” or “Why don’t you adopt, then?” (uh, I’m not in the market to increase my family size), but I cannot help but find it devastating when someone chooses to create a new human being when millions upon millions of children out there are crying for homes.

And I’m sad for the child itself. The dangers and demands of my brother’s job are unfair to the child. The burden of the U.S. financial situation will fall even more heavily on the next generation. The world is in a tremendous state of unrest (as it always has been, I suppose). I still cannot fathom why anyone would rejoice in condemning a new life to this earth. "Again I saw all the oppressions that are done under the sun. And behold, the tears of the oppressed, and they had no one to comfort them! On the side of their oppressors there was power, and there was no one to comfort them. And I thought the dead who are already dead more fortunate than the living who are still alive. But better than both is he who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 4:1-3)

So I muster a half-smile and a nod when the family talks about the impending child, but all the while I’m crying on the inside.

(Flashback: True Confessions about becoming an aunt.)

Childfree Confessions, #7 (nieces/nephews)

I dread the day that either of my siblings has a child.

I consider my brother and sister to be two of my dearest friends, not necessarily because I am related to them but because they are genuinely wonderful and interesting people. Though my sister lives about 450 miles west of me and my brother lives about 450 miles east of me, we make the effort to see each other several times a year and keep up regularly through facebook.

My brother, unmarried and in his thirties, seems to be on the fence about children. At one point he told me that he thought he was now too old to become a father; but his girlfriend is in her late twenties, and she might have the power to convince him otherwise. My younger sister, on the other hand, has long talked about someday having a baby. She is willing to wait for the right man and the right time, but her desire for a child is strong.

Those of you who have read enough of my blog have picked up on the fact that I don’t particularly like children in general, although I would never harm them or wish any harm to come upon them. I cry for the orphans when anyone insists upon having “their own” child, I mourn the loss of relationships, I am saddened by the negative effect parenthood has had on most people I know, and I am disgusted by the idolatrous obsession people have with children. When I imagine either of my siblings having a child, these concerns and feelings become even more poignant, if not frightening. I wonder if I could bear the loss of the friendships we have, and I worry about whether or not I could bond with nieces and nephews.

Over the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons, I caught a glimpse of what could come. My brother adopted a puppy from a rescue organization, and this puppy is the cutest, sweetest, funniest little guy so full of personality. (Don’t even get me started on animals!) My mother, sister, brother, and brother’s girlfriend, and the puppy gathered at my home shortly before Thanksgiving. The puppy needed a great deal of attention as he was still being trained and still needed frequent trips outside; this meant that someone had to have an eye on him at every moment. And with him being so adorable and hilarious, we all wanted to play with him and watch what he would do. An entire evening revolved around watching the puppy bound around the living room, talking about the puppy, listening to the puppy, and thinking about the puppy. After a few hours, I did start to bore of it, and it struck me, “This is what life would be like if one of us brought a child into the picture.” The only difference is that I love animals, but I find children annoying. I could imagine the entire family sitting around the room obsessing about the child while I yawned and wished to be somewhere else.

Selfishly, I hold out some hope that neither of my siblings will have children. My brother loves his dog but has acknowledged the unexpected amount of work involved in caring for him; maybe that will cause my brother to lean further toward the childfree side of the fence. With her career, her world travels, and her lack of interest in dating, I could imagine my sister ending up childless by circumstance, running out of time because her life was so full of other amazing things. Of course, I feel quite conflicted about this. I love her dearly and want the best for her. I would be deeply saddened if she were childless and regretful of it.

I suppose that all I can do for now is cherish the relationships I have with my brother and sister and hope for the best in the future. Their lives do not revolve around my desires, nor should they, and I love them too much to begrudge them any happiness.