I cry when I see a cute baby, but that doesn’t mean I want one.

Most babies are ugly, lots of small children are rowdy and irritating. I’m almost never charmed by the little ones. However, once in a blue moon I’ll get overwhelmed with emotion if I see or encounter a cute baby or a well behaved child. The pure, unadultered sweet kind- you know the type. And I think that in a perfect world, if I could have a sweet and kind and wonderfully quiet child, maybe I’d consider it. But then I start thinking of what an absolute nightmare I was as a child, and the extremely limited patience my partner and myself have. I think about how we barely muster enough energy to play with our cats , and how I couldn’t ever just leave my child to its own devices. They need play and wonder and constant attention. I’m an introvert who cherishes quietness and my freedom to do nothing. I don’t want a little human to focus on. I want to pet my sweet kittens, cuddle and fuck my future husband, cook, read, and have no qualms about working long hours . And truth be told, we don’t live in a perfect world. I could hate my child, resent it, feel intensely annoyed by it. They could be a terror, or have a terribly debilitating handicap. There’s too much risk. And so I cry when I meet one of the gems, because those kids are a true wonder. And I can’t help it, I just feel things so completely. I’m truly happy for those parents, the ones who have struck gold. But that won’t be me, and that’s okay. Luckily, I can appreciate from afar- and only for a moment.

I cry when I see a cute baby, but that doesn’t mean I want one.