I don’t want kids.

The Smiles that are oblivious to pain,

The Laughter that can break the most awkward of silences,

The Unconditional love in their sleepy eyes as you rock them to sleep grateful to be close to you.

I love kids. I do.

But, I don’t want them.

 

Im not fit to be a parent in a society where I was raised in anger.

Kids complicate things.

They are expensive.

They hold you back from your life yet you feel obligated to take care of them

After all,

What kind of monster deserts their child? Their own flesh and blood?

 

It happens. All the time.

I can’t guarantee the father of my children won’t walk away.

I don’t want to have to be the one to explain to my baby that his… or her father doesn’t want them.

I don’t want to turn that smile into a grimace of pain as they realize that fifty percent of their genetic make-up has already failed them before they have grown old.

I don’t want that smile to turn into a sneer of hatred every time they look in the mirror.

At that point, what’s not to hate?

My baby wasn’t worth a damn to their daddy.

 

I don’t want kids.

The daddy is gone. Now I have to work minimum wage jobs to support us.

Nowhere in this country can minimum wage support the cost of living.

Im tired. When I get home. “I don’t want to play.”

“I know I haven’t seen you all day but get out my face!”

“Do your homework!”

“Go to bed!”

That’s what I would tell my child.

“I love you enough to struggle for you, I want you to have everything you ever wanted but I can’t give it to you now.”

That’s what I don’t tell my child.

I never learned how to express love, concern, and care because my mom didn’t teach me.

Im going to yell when I really want to say “I love you, baby, but mommies tired.”

Im going to scream when I really want to hold you and make up for the twelve hours I didn’t see you.

 

My child will look for love elsewhere.

My child will find it.

That smile is now a permanent frown because it seems like “mommy” has abandoned you too.

Im at work.

I cant watch you all hours of the day.

But I see a difference in you.

Your grades are slippin’

You’re bringing home fancy things I know we can’t afford

You’re coming home every hour in the night when the police don’t bring you to my door in the afternoon.

I don’t like your friends. They’re trouble makers.

 

 

I don’t want kids.

I don’t want to hear that laughter turn into words of pain, misunderstanding.

I don’t want to hear that tone of resentment and sorrow.

I don’t want to hear you cry yourself to sleep at night calling for your daddy who left you.

I don’t want to hear you sob for your mommy even though im in the next room.

It’s a cruel world, baby.

You have to be strong.

 

I don’t want kids.

Im not fit to be a parent.

I can’t take care of you because im barely taking care of myself.

I see the mess I’ve brought you into and I can’t look at your face knowing

Every line,

Every shadow,

Cheeks sunken from hunger,

It’s all my fault.

Im going to kick you out because I can’t handle the guilt.

I can’t handle your reckless behavior.

I can’t handle you talking back.

I can’t handle you being destructive.

Because if I were a better mother, you wouldn’t have to endure all that.

But I don’t say this.

“Get out my house! You want to act like you in the streets! You can be in the street!

See if your friends take care of you like I do! Im struggling enough as it is! Stop acting like a baby!”

That’s what I say.

 

I don’t want kids.

I don’t want to be the one to find my child on the street drenched in blood.

I had to live where I could afford it.

It wasn’t the safest neighborhood but we had a roof over our heads.

We had a place that was warm.

I don’t want to be the one to hold my child to my breast as they struggle to breathe.

I don’t want to be the one to hear my child exhale for the final time.

I don’t want to be the one to see fear in my child’s lifeless eyes staring back at me.

I don’t want to feel my child’s arms go limp around me,

Even in death refusing to let me go because they just wanted me to be close.

 

No.

I don’t want kids.

Im not fit to be a parent.

I love kids.

But…

I will never put them through that.