Before You Have That Baby

I suffer from severe allergies to many common things: dust, prolonged exposure to low temperatures, perfumes, certain soaps, detergents (or any very strong smell), and some foods.

When I’m exposed to some of these things, I can barely get out of bed the next day. On days like those (which happen more often than I’d like), my husband has to make breakfast, and my mom sends us lunch. I don’t do anything else besides lamenting to myself and looking at the ceiling.

It’s a lost day at work where I can practically do nothing, and I usually try to have a routine that takes into account that there is possibly a day when I won’t be able to do anything, and I have to compensate.

For example, I make extra videos as backups in case one of those days when I have allergies I can’t record, so I have something to upload to my social networks. I write whenever I can and feel good. And I go to the gym on consecutive days instead of specific days (in case there’s a day when I can’t stand up).

Now imagine having a child during those days.

Imagine a baby who needs to be fed, who needs to be changed, and who needs attention and care, and I’m lying in bed unable to do anything. My husband would have to take care of both of us, and my mom (who also has health complications) would have to come help.

But what about the days when my husband has to work? What about the days when my mom can’t come? What about the child who needs their parent and can’t understand why I’m not there?

I could have a child if I had the financial resources to hire someone full-time to help care for them on those days. Someone who isn’t a family member, someone I’m not imposing this responsibility on, someone I’m actually paying to handle the childcare when I can’t. But I don’t have those resources right now.

So for me, having a child right now would be selfish. It would be prioritising what I want (the experience of motherhood, the fulfilment of having a child) over what that child actually needs, which is a parent who can show up for them consistently. A parent who isn’t going to be completely incapacitated multiple days a month. A parent who can provide stable, reliable care.

Until I can guarantee that child’s well-being, until I can afford the support system necessary to care for them properly, the most selfless thing I can do is not have them.

Most people have children thinking about what they want rather than what the child needs.

In the Dominican Republic, there’s a common saying that many people use: "All children come with a loaf of bread under their arm,” which means that no matter your economic situation, every baby has the chance to survive because there will always be food to provide for them in one way or another.

But to me, it’s a horrible way of thinking. Because surviving isn’t the same as thriving.

Barely having enough food isn’t the same as having stability. And this saying has given people permission to have children without actually thinking about whether they can provide a good life for them, just a surviving life.

People have children because they want to experience motherhood or fatherhood. They have children because their partner wants children. They have children because they think it’s what you’re supposed to do by a certain age. They have children because they want someone to love them unconditionally. They have children for all the reasons that make them happy, all the reasons that fulfil them, all the reasons that have nothing to do with what the child actually needs.

But a child needs so much more than survival.

A child needs emotional stability. They need a parent who can be present, who can handle stress without falling apart, who can provide consistency and routine. They need a home that feels safe, not chaotic. They need parents who have the capacity to care for them, not parents who are so overwhelmed with their own problems that the child becomes another burden.

Most people don’t think about this when they decide to have children. They think about the joy of holding their baby, the fulfilment of being a parent, and the legacy they’re creating. They think about themselves. And the child becomes a consequence of that selfishness.

A woman has a child because she wants to be a mother, without considering whether she’s emotionally equipped to handle the demands of motherhood. A man has a child because his partner wants one, without asking himself if he’s actually ready to be present for that child consistently. A couple have a child because they think it will fix their relationship, without realising that a child will expose every crack that already exists.

And the child pays the price for their parents’ selfishness.

Having a child you can’t properly care for is prioritising yourself over them.

Most women decide they want to be a mother because “it’s their dream”.

However, they don’t take into account whether they are in a stable financial situation, whether they have a supportive partner, or whether they have family who can help consistently, but they want to experience motherhood so they have a child anyway. She tells herself that love is enough, that she’ll figure it out, that her desire to be a mother is more important than the obstacles in her way.

But her child doesn’t care about her desire to be a mother. Her child needs clean diapers, needs to be fed regularly, needs a safe home, and needs a parent who has the mental and emotional capacity to care for them. The child needs these things more than the mother needs the experience of motherhood.

When you have a child knowing that you can’t provide what they need, you’re not being brave or following your dreams or honouring your desire to be a parent. You’re being selfish. You’re deciding that what you want matters more than what that child needs. You’re creating a human being who will suffer the consequences of your decision for the rest of their life.

I know people who had children because they wanted them, not because they were ready for them. Parents who work two jobs and barely see their kids, leaving them with strangers or family members who resent having to raise someone else’s child. Parents who are so stressed and overwhelmed that they yell at their kids for normal childhood behaviour. Parents who can’t afford therapy or mental health support pass their trauma and mental illness directly to their children.

Those children didn’t ask to be born into that situation. They’re suffering because their parents prioritised their own desire to be parents over the child’s wellbeing. And that’s selfish. There’s no way around it.

If you know you can’t afford to give a child what they need, if you know you don’t have the emotional capacity to handle parenthood, if you know you don’t have a support system in place, having a child anyway is choosing yourself over them. It’s deciding that your happiness and fulfilment matter more than their stability and safety.

Wanting to be a parent doesn’t mean you’re ready to be one.

I want a lot of things. I want to be able to eat anything without having severe allergic reactions. I want to have unlimited energy, so I don’t have days where I can’t get out of bed. I want to travel the world and experience different cultures. I want all of those things, but wanting them doesn’t mean I’m ready for them or that pursuing them would be fair to anyone else involved.

The same applies to having children. You can desperately want to be a parent and still not be ready to be one. These are two separate things, but society has blurred the line between them so much that people think if they want something badly enough, they should have it.

Being ready to be a parent means you’ve done the work. It means you’ve processed your own trauma so you’re not passing it to your child. It means you have financial stability so your child isn’t worried about basic needs. It means you have the emotional capacity to handle a screaming toddler, a defiant teenager and a child who has their own problems and needs. It means you can show up consistently, even on days when you don’t feel like it, even when you’re tired, even when you’re frustrated.

Most people who want to be parents haven’t done any of that work. They just want the idea of being a parent. They want the love they imagine a child will give them. They want someone to care about them unconditionally. They want to feel needed and important. But those are all about what they want, not about what the child needs.

I had boyfriends who had told me they wanted to have kids someday because they thought it would be fulfilling. But they had never taken responsibility for anything in their life; They couldn’t barely take care of themselves, and they had no plan for how they could actually support a child. They just wanted the experience of fatherhood.

But they were not actually in the position to be one.

And that’s fine. Not being ready is okay. The problem is when people have children anyway, pretending that their desire is enough to overcome their lack of readiness. Pretending that love will solve the problems that money, stability, and emotional health are actually needed to solve.

Your child doesn’t care that you wanted them badly. Your child cares that you can feed them, that you can comfort them, that you can be present for them. Your child cares about your capacity, not your desire.

We must stop romanticising the idea of having children and begin to understand the real consequences of being parents.

I just finished reading a book in which a mother decides to leave her children in their father’s care for a year so she can pursue her dream of becoming a whale researcher. In the book, she recounts how being a “mother” didn’t stop her from accomplishing her dreams but how, despite everything, she had a somewhat complicated relationship with her youngest daughter.

The daughter resented her mother’s decision to “abandon her for the whales” her entire life, but the mother never regretted it because it gave her the happiness she needed.

I’m happy that the mother was able to fulfil her goals despite everything, but I can’t help but think about what my life would be like if my child resented me for wanting to keep trying to achieve my dream. That’s something I definitely couldn’t endure, which is why I personally prefer not to have children until I’m willing to sacrifice many things for their well-being.

Society tells us that having children is the natural progression of life, that it’s the ultimate fulfilment, that a life without children is somehow incomplete.

But nobody talks about the reality of parenthood, the actual demands, the sacrifice that goes beyond the Instagram photos and the cute moments. Nobody talks about the responsibility of creating a human being who will depend on you for survival, who will absorb your trauma, who will suffer the consequences of your decisions.

That saying I told you before, that a baby will come with everything they would need to survive, has allowed generations of people to have children without thinking about whether they should. It’s given permission for people to create lives they can’t properly support and to bring children into circumstances where they’ll struggle, just because surviving is technically possible.

But that’s not good enough. Children deserve more than survival.

If you’re thinking about having children because you want to experience motherhood or fatherhood, because you think it will make you feel complete, because you believe it will fix your relationship or give your life purpose, I’m asking you to stop and really think about what you’re doing.

Think about the child who will exist because of your desire. Think about whether you actually have the resources, the emotional capacity, or the stability to care for them properly. Think about whether you’re doing this for them or for yourself.

Because if you’re honest with yourself and you realise you can’t provide what that child needs, then the most loving thing you can do is not have them. Not having a child when you know you’re not ready is the least selfish decision you can make. It’s choosing their wellbeing over your own fulfilment. It’s acknowledging that your desire to be a parent doesn’t justify bringing a child into a situation where they’ll suffer.

For me, that’s what this means. I suffer from severe allergies that incapacitate me multiple days a month. I don’t have the financial resources to hire full-time childcare. I can’t guarantee that I could be the present, consistent parent that a child needs. So for me, not having children isn’t a loss or a disappointment. It’s the most responsible, the most loving, the most unselfish thing I can do.

And maybe more people need to come to that same conclusion. Maybe more people need to ask themselves if they’re truly ready, and if the answer is no, accept that and move forward with a different life. A life that’s still meaningful, still fulfilling, just without a child who will pay the price for their parents’ selfishness.

A child doesn’t choose to be born. They don’t choose their parents, their financial situation, their emotional environment, or the struggles they’ll inherit. Every one of those decisions is made for them by someone else.

That’s why becoming a parent should never begin with the question, “Do I want a child?”

It should begin with, “Can I give this child the life they deserve?”

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it’s no. And there shouldn’t be any shame in either answer.

Society treats parenthood as something everyone should aspire to, but choosing not to have children because you know you’re not ready is just as loving as choosing to have them when you are.

Love isn’t measured by whether you become a parent.

Sometimes it’s measured by recognising that the most compassionate decision is not bringing a child into circumstances where they would have to carry the consequences of your choices.

If more people stopped asking what having a child would give them and started asking what they could give a child, I think we’d have far fewer unhappy parents, far fewer neglected children, and a lot more families built on readiness instead of expectation.

From Dr Joke Ololade