I’m at the age that some of my friends have kids in college. It’s mind boggling. I went through a phase where the idea of children would come up periodically usually after I had spent time with other people’s kids and I would entertain the notion semi-seriously. Finally went to my gynecologist for some blood tests and even bought some prenatal vitamins that were on sale just in case I got pregnant. But at my age of 49, people don’t normally just get pregnant, the process is very intentional. It takes effort, time, commitment, and bit of money. And my partner wasn’t keen on the idea having already raised two grown sons of his own with his first wife. Having a baby now would mean that would need to leave the best adult relationship I have ever had and to be doing it on my own.

Part of my perseveration was that I envied my partner’s bond with his ex-wife that was cemented by his kids. And I wondered if I could ever have that level of connection with a partner without having kids. As I sat with the prospect of having children, it became apparent to me that my motivation for having kids was very selfish. It was about me having the experience to nurture and to know how it felt to give birth to a living being. It could be my contribution to the world to produce a human being capable of making a valuable impact on humanity. I could do it and do it well, I think.

To have children always seemed to be a selfish decision. No child ever asked to be born. But to have a child at my age is a scientific experiment and perhaps even a moral dilemma. The increased risks of birth defects, the higher likelihood of having averse impact on my health, the questionable financial and emotional security that I could guarantee my child — all these unknown variables were exacerbated because of my age and it weighed heavily on me. The alternatives of fostering and adopting another child was not a consideration. Even one story was too many of mismatching kids with parents or the long term effects of children’s hidden traumas seemed to not be worth the risks. I would be a single parent like my mom and that’s not a family structure I want to intentionally raise a child in.

So the question emerges. If I don’t have kids, what do I do with the rest of my life? How do I make the most of it, other than to simply enjoying it and living it out till the end? How can I make my life meaningful?