The first time I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m dismissed. You’ll grow up, things will change, wait until you meet the right person.

When I meet the right person, and I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m dismissed. This is a honeymoon phase. Wait until you get bored of each other. Wait until the hormones kick in.

When my friends start to have kids, and I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m dismissed. When are you going to start planning? It’s easier when you’re younger. Just get it done and out of the way.

When I hit my early thirties and I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m dismissed. My feminity is questioned. Am I fertile? Is there something wrong with me? My marriage? I’ll regret this decision later.

When I start my own company, and I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m dismissed. Your career isn’t everything. Your job won’t love you back. You’ll be left behind.

When I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m pitied. What will happen to me when I get old? Who will take care of me? What if something happens to my husband?

When I say I don’t want to have kids, I’m seen as other. As dangerous. An unnatural role model for other women. Why am I being so difficult? It’s a natural step. Am I too lazy? Or just rebellious?

Tick tock. I’m on a treadmill that I can’t get off, and unless I run faster, I’ll fall.

From time to time, I crumble under the weight of the words, the questions, the expectations. I wonder if it would be easier to succumb. To take the easy path, and simply do what is expected of me. I look at the women who have had children, who seem so entirely consumed by their families- and wonder, are they truly happy?

From time to time, I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Am I not female enough? Not nurturing enough? Too selfish?

Or am I just complete?

poet/ producer. telling stories for a new india @ boundless media. author of reinvention and boundless.