The first time I thought about not having kids was in the early months of dating my wife. I hadn’t thought about it before because it hadn’t come up. I lost most of my twenties to mental illness. Months in bed. Days of silence. For years I was broken and remained in pieces. This wasn’t great for my dating life. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t have one. At my lowest it felt like I never would. 

Then, in September 2018, I was diagnosed with bipolar. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Now I knew what was wrong with me. Now I could do something about it. I sought professional help and worked hard to treat my bipolar. The results have been very positive: life has been good to me in recent years. After all the years of darkness, I found myself enjoying life, rather than struggling to get through it. Suddenly, the future was something I could look forward to, rather than dread. After I met my wife and fell in love, it was time to decide what my future was going to look like. 

I didn’t know the term “childfree” existed, much less the movement surrounding it. I always respected the individuality of people who decided not to have kids. Their courageous defiance was admirable. But I was just an observer. The notion of not having kids remained a novel idea, rather than a legitimate plan of action. In my mind it was unrealistic: I never thought any potential partner of mine would go for it. I felt my wish to be childfree was an unfair demand. Like most other people, I was conditioned to believe every woman wants to have a child, and not to give my wife one would be depriving her of destiny. I also saw my preference as a threat: it could put our relationship in danger. Far more established relationships than ours had fallen by the wayside over the issue of children.

As more time passed, the idea of not having kids became more enticing. I was drawn to the freedom which being childfree would afford me with. Imagine being able to do what you want without having to worry about neglecting your kids in the process. And I desperately wanted to keep things the way they were between my wife and I. I was finally happy—a place I had been lightyears away from for so much of my adult life.

I felt I wouldn’t be missing out by not having kids. I’m the eldest sibling in my family and have done a lot of parental stuff already. I volunteer for a literacy program that helps disadvantaged kids improve their reading and writing. I have a very clear conscious about helping the youth, and have no guilt about being selfish.

Then, there were the reasons outside of myself. Just take a look at the world and see how much pain and suffering humans cause each other. Even with all our modern technological advancements, we still haven’t found a way to love each other and live in peace. And even if there was a way to right all the wrongs, the nature of human existence is still brutal. Most things come down to chance. Some people are lucky and others aren’t, but in the end what goes around comes around. Even with me doing my absolute best, I could never fully protect my child from all the ways life can maim. I wasn’t in a rush to sign up another innocent soul to that raw deal, when they never consented to being born in the first place. And did I mention what we are doing to the planet? In the name of progress, we have plundered every natural resource to maximum capacity and ushered in a new age of mass extinction that most people don’t care about. Things will have to get much worse before any serious attempt is made to make them better. And by then it might be too late, the ultra-comfortable way we live today may no longer be possible. Hard times lay ahead. Will we survive them?

My wife understood my concerns, respected my reasons, and was in agreement with a lot of them. But it’s hard to deviate from our programming. We’re wired to pass on our genes. When it comes to having kids, the heart overrules the head, if it is even a conscious decision at all. Much of the time it’s given minimal thought. The most impactful act of our lives, bringing new life into the world, is often done by default.

When it came down to it, I thought I was up against an unbeatable force. And I was afraid to lose my wife. Relationships are a compromise, so my wife and I made one: we would have one child when we turned thirty-five and call it quits. At the time, my wife was thirty and I was twenty-nine. It wasn’t my first choice, but I was at peace with it. You can’t always get what you want.

Over the next two years, as my wife and I grew closer, we didn’t spend a lot of time revisiting the kids issue. I don’t remember vocalizing my childfree preferences too much (and I’m not usually short for words if I’m passionate about something as evidenced by the essay you are currently trudging through). On occasion, I mentioned being childfree whenever my wife brought up the more daunting aspects of pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood. But we both knew my comments were in gest and not a serious advocacy of my beliefs. Because the matter had already been decided, hadn’t it? The case was closed.

Then something extraordinary happened.

One evening, out of nowhere, my wife presented herself and said she’d been having serious thoughts about not having kids for the past six months. She had been researching the childfree experience. (This was the first time I heard the term “childfree”—what a beautiful combination of words!) She had become a member of an online community, had messaged other women who were exploring their feelings about being childfree, too. I was like a child on Christmas morning hearing all this. My reaction told me everything I needed to know: I wanted to be childfree and my gut told me it was the right decision. I still think of that night often. It will always be a very special moment for me.

A month later, I was on a table with a man between my legs severing my vas deferens. Luckily, the man was a doctor (and the procedure is more commonly known as a vasectomy). It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds, lads; my wife and I were back rolling around in less than a week. The vasectomy was something that had to be done as soon as possible. In the next few years, I knew we would watch all our friends have kids. The longer we waited, the harder it would be not to get sucked into what everyone else was doing. Action was required to turn good intentions into permanent change. (I laugh when people tell me you can get vasectomies reversed. Not happening, buddy.) After the procedure, I felt tremendous relief and a real sense of accomplishment. Now life was whatever I wanted it to be.

I had to tell people about my vasectomy. Our parents were both disappointed. They didn’t admit it, but it’s obvious. They’re entitled to their feelings about our decision, and as long as they don’t make life difficult for us because of it—which they don’t (most of the time)—my wife and I are fine with that. For the most part, our friends understand why I got the vasectomy and why we have decided to be childfree, but very few of them are willing to do it themselves. I think my wife and I are ahead of the curb and will be for the next few years, until being childfree becomes more ubiquitous. Given the perilous state of the planet and exceedingly difficult economic realities, it simply has to.

Personally, I haven’t dealt with a lot of pushback over my decision. Comments suggesting I’m selfish, or misanthropic, or have screwed myself in terms of who’s going to look after me when I get old, can be brushed off easily. These comments don’t bother me because they’re all nonsense. My wife walks a harder path. She deals with shitty comments, scoffs, micro-aggressions, open disrespect. She has to listen to people she’s just met saying it’s OK you’re not having kids, as if she needs their approval. Every woman who has chosen to be childfree will face resistance. People still have very rigid ideas about what a woman’s role in the family should be. People have little patience, and even less understanding, for those who reject societal norms. The Stop Having Kids website is a place to get away from that oppressive conformity and explore other perspectives.

My reasons for not having kids have matured. It’s grown far beyond the personal. It’s philosophical, environmental, humanistic for me now. I’m sure additional dimensions will open up as the years go by. The Stop Having Kids website has informed my beliefs, given voice to my premonitions and broadened my mind. Have a look around the website. Its words bear reading. We humans are going to have to come up with answers to big questions concerning our continued survival much sooner than we think. Should everyone keep having kids will be one of them.

The outreach videos on Stop Having Kids’ YouTube channel are some of the most thought provoking content you’ll find on YouTube. The conversations members of the public have with Stop Having Kids volunteers range from heartwarming to deeply concerning. Some people are so kind, open, and sharing, while others are so rude, closed-minded, and mean spirited. As encouraging as it is to see positive interactions, it’s hard not to be disturbed by the dangerous encounters, where people seem ready to fight. Violence has been on the cards on a few occasions. Thankfully, as of yet, physical confrontations have been avoided. We are all indebted to the bravery of the Stop Having Kids outreach volunteers. Few have the courage and poise to face the level of abuse with the grace and composure volunteers display unfailingly. 

Disgraceful behavior toward people who think independently from the rest of the herd only serves to strengthen my belief that most people should stop having kids. I don’t want to bring a child into a world where it’s dangerous for them to think differently, when thinking differently, thinking for yourself, is something we should all aspire to do. 

Let that be the main takeaway from Stop Having Kids: it’s a place for those who think differently. It’s a place where people who think differently can feel less alone. It’s shelter from a society that’s always trying to dictate your personal procreative choices, that’s constantly telling you you have to have kids. Well, guess what? You don’t. And probably shouldn’t. But that’s for you to decide. Just know that not having kids is an option, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

This was a rather long essay and I had to cut out most of the jokes. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading. And always remember, stop having kids 😊