People often ask me if David and I have ever thought about having kids. The answer to that question is that, yes, we have thought about having kids, and at this point in our lives – in our late 40’s – we’ve decided not to.
While most people accept that answer and move on to another subject, I’m always a little surprised when the response back is something along the lines of, “But you would be such great dads,” or “It’s not too late – older guys have kids all the time.” As if we really haven’t really thought through the idea thoroughly. But trust me, we have.
To be completely honest, when David and I were younger and single, we both thought that we would be dads one day. We love kids.
I love holding sweet-smelling newborns, rocking back and forth and staring into the never-ending depth of their sparkling, curious eyes. I love watching babies discover their tiny fingers and toes and the world within their gaze. I love being with kids when they experience things for the first time like seeing a bedazzled ballerina twirl across the stage or riding a skytram over the lion exhibit at the zoo. And I even love coaxing conversation out of reluctant teenagers as their minds begin to expand along with the world around them.
The truth is I’m jealous of the moms and dads in my life. Being a parent is awesome.
I love and truly appreciate that, for most of the people in our little bubble, the idea of David and me raising children is completely normal. We’re lucky to have several close friends who are gay and raising kids, and, when we walk into a restaurant in DC with two other men and at least one kid, no one does a double take. But let’s be real…10-20 years ago, when David and I were in our prime childbearing years, two guys with children drew attention no matter where you were (and to this day, in most parts of the country, it still does).
David and I met each other 10 years ago on his birthday. I was 38 and he was 37. I knew he was the one right away. He had me at dimples and “I’m from Omaha, too.” We were pushing 40 when we started talking seriously about sharing our lives together. That was 2008 – the year President Obama was elected president, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was still in effect, gay marriage was legal in two states and banned in most others and none of our close gay friends had kids.
David and I wanted to move in together, but, thanks to the real estate crash of 2007, it made absolutely no financial sense, and we decided to wait a couple of years for the market to rebound. We started to talk about having kids together and think through how that process would work once we lived together in a home other than one of the tiny one-bedroom apartments we both lived in at the time.
Becoming gay parents meant that David and I would have to bamboozle biology. We’ve never been at risk for having an “accident” that results in a kid. Whether through surrogacy or adoption, for us to bring a child into our lives, meant we would have to make very deliberate decisions and commit enormous amounts of time, effort and money.
Do the math. If David and I wanted to be dads, it wouldn’t realistically happen until we were well into our 40’s. Our conversations went something like this.
“Do you want to become a dad at 45?”
“I can’t operate on a few hours of sleep anymore. Can you?
“I don’t want to give up my career, but we both travel a lot, and one of us would need to be home more often. Would you do that?
“How do you feel about our kid being raised by a full-time nanny? Can we even afford one?”
“How in the hell would we keep up with a teenager when we’re in our 50’s? Is it even fair to the kid to have two parents that age?”
“How do you feel about sending a kid off to college in our 60’s? What if he/she needs to move back in with us after college?”
“I don’t think I can do this. What do you think?”
“No.”
Yes, we thought about having and kids and we decided not to.
Does this make us selfish people? I’ve asked myself that question, but I don’t think so. Children deserve and need parents who really want them, who are fully present and engaged in their lives, who are supportive and willing to make sacrifices and who have the energy to be patient and forgiving. Being a good parent is tough, and if you’re not in it to win it, then don’t put yourself in the game. I think David and I made the right decision for all the right reasons.
Do I regret our decision? I’ve often said I don’t regret anything I’ve done in my life, (and I’ve done some things that could be considered regrettable). Not being a dad may be the only regret I have in my entire life. We both love kids. Being a parent is awesome. If David and I were ten years younger, we would likely be making plans to bring a kid into our family instead of plans for a new backyard. And yet, I don’t regret our decision given our circumstances. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.
Have you ever thought about having kids? That’s a loaded question. And I’ve just unloaded the answer. Next time I’m asked, I’m just going to tell them to check out my blog and change the subject.