I Want Kids, But I'm Still Single

So I bared my soul on national radio.

Okay, so I didn’t completely bare my soul. But I did get a lot more personal than I usually would in the context of my own work.

The forum was a talk radio show, and I was a caller. (Which I suppose technically made me anonymous to anyone who didn’t recognize “Mary Beth, the single woman from Denver.”)

I felt compelled to call because he was discussing an issue which is very near to my heart.

Single and childless 

The issue is childlessness. Specifically, the question was “can people who have no children of their own find happiness through involvement in other children’s lives?”

It’s a very good question. In a world where people (rightly) rave about the happiness and fulfillment they find in parenting, it can be scary to face a future without children.

I know this isn’t an issue for those of you who are single parents. Nor is it an issue (yet, and perhaps never will be) for those of you who are still young, fertility-wise, and have your “prime childbearing years” (as my friend Erick used to say) ahead of you.

But it is an issue for many of you who have reached a certain age—both male and female. (Yes, I’m talking to you, Mister “50-year old male seeks 25-year old female.”) It is an issue that is rarely if ever addressed. And it’s an issue we really, really need to face and to deal with directly.

I know, because I am one of those people.

It is a well-known fact of the dating world that the “biological clock” begins to tick rather loudly when a single, childless person—especially (but not exclusively) a woman—starts to inch into the

late 30s. Different people handle it different ways. Some panic and resolve to marry the next marginally acceptable candidate who comes along. Others exercise a generous amount of denial. Some just pray and hope for the best.

I spent my thirties in the third category, with maybe a little of the second thrown in for good measure. I was traveling the country speaking on chastity, dating occasionally, but never finding the “right” person. I knew my time was limited, and I knew that there was a chance I wouldn’t have children. But I don’t know if I really knew it.

Grieving the possibility of having children

Around my 40th birthday (a difficult transition period for many single women, I’ve discovered), my spiritual director told me that I probably needed to “grieve” the possibility of having children. And so as the years went on and the doorway got narrower, I “grieved.” I adjusted my thinking. You know how it is when you see kids doing something, or you have a particularly profound insight about childrearing, and you think “When I have kids . . .” Well, I forced myself to stop doing that. I started picturing my future without my own children.

And it was really, really hard.

But, of course, God is good. My niece Anna was born three months before my 40th birthday—which makes me a bit of an expert on the question of “can we find happiness through involvement in other children’s lives?”

One of my fellow talk radio callers was adamant that we can’t. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

Of course it’s not the same. They aren’t our children. We don’t get to be with them all the time. We don’t get to “call the shots,” to make decisions about their lives. This is the first and most important point we need to understand. If we try to make it “the same”—co-opting other people’s children and trying to usurp their parental role—nobody is going to find any happiness. It’s a recipe for disaster.

Aunt or Uncle role

The happiness we find in being an aunt or uncle (biological or “honorary”) is a different kind of happiness. In order to grasp it, we need to let go of our desire to “play the parent.” We need to grieve the role we wish we had—in this child’s or any child’s life—so that we can embrace the role we do have.

My nieces and nephews are a huge part of my life. They fill my heart and bring me so much joy, just by their very existence. But it’s “aunt joy,” not “parent joy.” The two are related, but different.

The “aunt” role has its difficulties. It can be hard to love children with all your heart and have no real say in their upbringing. I’m fortunate, in that my sister and her husband are really great parents, so I’m not in any kind of constant torment over the kids’ environment or anything. But I can see where there would be a strong temptation for any involved aunt or uncle to say “Look at all I do for these kids. I deserve a say in this or that decision.”

Nope. We don’t. We can certainly share our opinions when we’re asked (emphasis on “when we’re asked”), but offering a constant barrage of unsolicited parenting advice is really not such a good idea.

Being involved in children's lives

Nor do I subscribe to the “this is better because we can play with them and then send them home” school of thought. Being involved in a child’s life doesn’t mean we get the rewards without the

difficulties. It just means we get a smaller version of the same pie. Fewer difficulties, fewer rewards—but the ratio is probably about the same. My sister’s kids have a bedroom in my house. They stay here when their parents are out of town, or when they’re in town but we want to have a slumber party. I’ve spent more than one sleepless night with a sick child. I’ve endured more than one prolonged toddler temper tantrum because giving in would just encourage more tantrums. It’s not all fun and games, but I do believe that the hard parts just make my bond with the kids deeper.

I don’t know what God has planned for my future. I do know that there are a lot of ways my future could possibly involve being a parent somehow—to adopted children, step-children, maybe even some miraculous, late-life “Abraham and Sarah” type pregnancy. But maybe it won’t. The only role that is certain right now is the role of “Aunt Bop.” And that brings a happiness all its own.

Several months ago I was driving with Anna, and explaining to her that, when I was a little girl, her grandma and grandpa were my mommy and daddy. She thought for a while and then asked, “And who was your aunt?”

Yeah, being involved in a child’s life can bring us happiness—lots and lots of happiness. Trust me, I know.