Childless by choice. That is what I am, who I am. I made that choice years ago, when I realized I had married a man who was unfit for fatherhood, frankly unfit to be called human, for reasons I won’t go into today. By God’s grace and providence, I didn’t have children with that selfish piece of human excrement. And when I later married a man who would have made an imperfect but decent dad, my mind had already been made up; I was not going to have children. Ever.

And so I didn’t.

Divorced again, for going on seven years now, I’m a few years (ahem) past the age when being a mom would be possible for me. Neither would it be something I would want now: waking in the night for feedings, changing diapers, chasing a toddler around, and dealing with all the changes a child would create in my settled life. Nevertheless…

Two of my dear friends back home recently gave birth. One of them is at precisely the age one expects to be starting a family, and the other is a little older. The older one is actually almost my age, only a handful of years younger, and she just had her second child! The first one was born a couple of years after I was full into menopause. A teacher like me, she quit her job and jumped head-first into full-time-mom, and her happiness has been palpable ever since. A few hours ago, her toddler became a big brother. I know she and her husband are over the moon, and I am as happy for her as I could possibly be. And just a tiny bit jealous.

I don’t want a baby. I never did; that’s why I didn’t get pregnant when I could. I still don’t want one. When I was twenty I didn’t want the upheaval, the mess, the work, the constant interruptions, the worries and the potential heartbreak, and by golly, I sure as heck don’t want those things now! But I do want something. There is something missing, and I would be dishonest to deny it. And so I must admit that I want something I will never have outside of the providence of God. I want a family.

It’s perfectly right that I find myself now, a woman of  un certain age, and I don’t have a family. I didn’t make good choices as a young person, and my life didn’t follow the path that most people’s do.While in college, I read several books about the sustainability of the planet and overpopulation and such. One book I read was even called “Childless by Choice,” (Marian Faux) and it definitely impacted me. So I made a conscious decision in my mid-twenties to be childless, and that choice stayed with me. I never wavered. Until recently.

Middle age has a way of making you rethink the decisions you were so sure of when your life stretched before you like a long country road. I have begun to see that this road has an end, an unthinkable idea when I was 20, 25, or even 35, and it appears that the end is even less inviting when it’s reached alone. It’s one thing to face your mortality with a house bulging and bouncing with children and grandchildren; it’s quite another when your house is quiet and calm. At this point in my journey, I wish I had had children.

Some would say I do have children. In way I do because there is no doubt my students, many of them anyway, love me. One of them is now in her thirties (told you I was middle aged) and is among my four or five closest friends. Another, a recent grad from NC, calls me his “mamá blanca” (he’s African American) and I count his mother as a very good friend. Two others, graduates in the past four years, are coming to Europe this year and contacted me so they could come see me. One of this year’s graduates says she’ll show me around her home island of Crete if I come, which I absolutely will. Two others hugged and kissed me after graduation as if I were family, and I have no doubt I will see them again one day.

So in spite of not ever having given birth, I suppose I do have children. They are the kinds of children who will become friends one day, and for that I’m grateful. Does it make up for never having children of my own? Does it fill the empty place where my own “family” should be? If I’m honest, I have to say no. Nevertheless, I am not unhappy, and my life feels generally quite full. Nevertheless, perhaps one day…

God sets the solitary in families;

He brings out those who are bound into prosperity;

But the rebellious dwell in a dry land. Ps. 68:6, NKJV