I plan on living a long, fulfilling life that doesn’t include motherhood. And that’s okay.

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“Actually, no. I don’t want kids,” is a sentence I never thought I’d be saying so much.

Since I’ve been in my twenties, I’ve found that every person over the age of 45 loves asking me when I’m going to bring my progeny into the world.

My unchanging answer is always met with a rebuttal which consists of telling me that my mind will change when I’m older or when I find the right man.

Or, how will I leave my legacy if I don’t have a baby? What will I leave behind? How will my bloodline carry on if I don’t reproduce? How will my parents feel that I’m not giving them grandchildren?

First of all, and with all due respect, my procreative plans (or lack thereof) are my business.

Secondly, since when is having children synonymous with leaving a legacy? A legacy is an inherited accomplishment – it’s a masterpiece, a groundbreaking idea, an act of relevance.

Also, I’ve made a point of apologizing to my parents about not giving them grand babies. They seem to be coming to terms with it.

All of this isn’t to say that having children is easy; not at all. But we used to reproduce as a basic biological function. We had to. Back when people were living to the ripe old age of 30 from contracting a preventable disease, we needed children to help farm, to carry out the family name and to share responsibilities.

I don’t have to do that. I don’t have land to reap and sow. I have $7 in my bank account, and frankly, I have way bigger things to worry about.

I know having kids has been the thing to do literally since the beginning of time but that’s just not the case anymore.

My generation has the luxury to choose to be selfish.

I want to have disposable income, a career and time. I’m not busting my ass in school to not be able to have everything I want.

And I understand that children and having all of the above isn’t mutually exclusive, but a diaper bag will inevitably add more weight.