Do you feel guilty about not wanting to have children?

This was my lizard, Zeus:


I got him for my 14th birthday as a gift from my parents. I had always wanted a turtle, but they said the guy at the pet shop recommended monitors for a more interactive pet.

I loved the guy.

We spent hours together. He had a leash, which I would use to take him on walks. He loved clinging to my shirt as we wandered around the house. I bathed him.

He was my baby.

As I moved onto high school, we moved houses.

Suddenly my baby Zeus was no longer in my bedroom, but in my basement; that was the only place large enough for his tank and all of his supplies.

Life started happening to me and I would go days without visiting the little guy.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care; it was that I had a lot of other concerns and Zeus was out of sight. I made sure he was fed and had water, but I stopped interacting with him more than that.

Then the guilt of ignoring him would set in, so I’d ignore him more to keep myself from having to face my initial ignorance.

It was a vicious cycle.

A few months before I was left for college, my mom came to my room and talked to me.

She said she’d found a guy online that was looking to buy a lizard, and she’d contacted him about Zeus.

I burst into tears.

He was my lizard.

I couldn’t sell him.

My mom explained to me why she felt it was best.

He was being neglected in the basement, and he didn’t have a big enough house nor did we have the space to expand for him, and he was expensive, and no one could take care of him once I left, and if someone else wanted Zeus more than us, why shouldn’t they have him?

I told her I didn’t want to talk about it and asked her to leave.

I sat on my bed and cried. I couldn’t fathom giving up on my pet.

I felt like I’d failed. I couldn’t take care of him and now someone else would have to.

I was angry and upset and hurt and most importantly, I felt guilty. I felt guilty that I had taken on a pet that I couldn’t care for, and now we’d have to sell him and I would have to let my baby go.

The man came over to meet Zeus and see if he wanted to buy him.

I bit my lip and tried not to cry while I showed him Zeus’ cage and gently lifted my lizard from it. I handed my wriggling towel-wrapped child to the man, then sat in silence and watched.

“Holy cow! What a big guy. Hi Zeus. Damn, he’s cool. I’ve had lizards for about six years now but I’ve never owned a monitor. They’re beautiful but they require a lot of work. I already have a space made for him in my lizard room— he’s going to be the king there.”

I watched the gentle movements the man made as he inspected my lizard. He carefully pet his head, feeling his scales and evaluating his health.

He was meticulous and observed Zeus with a knowing eye.

“I would love to take him. He’s incredible.”

“He’s yours. I think he’ll be happy with you.”

The man and his friend loaded Zeus’ enclosure and all of his supplies to their car.

The man didn’t stop talking the entire way.

“Yeah, I have frozen rats at home I’ll feed him. Sometimes I buy live crickets to feed them— lizards love that. I have bison meat that I feed them, too, as a treat. It’s great for them. I have a new humidifier that will make sure his enclosure stays perfect, and I got a new set of heaters for his room. I love lizards. I’ve had them for years and it’s so great. They’re incredibly interesting. I work with a few buddies of mine to acquire and care for lots of lizards— it’s like a club. We all share advice and stuff about lizards to make sure they’re as healthy as can be.”

“Zeus is going to love you, sir.”

This man exuded an enthusiasm for my little lizard. He knew how to raise him to be safe and healthy, and had the burning desire to do so. He was passionate about lizards.

He was the right man to raise my lizard, as weird as that sounds.

I will never feel guilty about not wanting to have kids, because I acknowledge that I have no burning desire to raise a child (or a lizard).

I don’t want to give up my time for them.

I don’t want to spend hours caring for them, and training them, and working with them.

It’s nothing against kids and everything against putting my time into things that don’t interest me.

I will raise beautiful cats which sleep and snuggle with me at night and sleep and hide alone during the day.

I will perfect a discipline and give back to my world and help others however I can.

I will not raise a child. I cannot give them the passion and care that they deserve. I would only do more harm to them than good, and there is no way I can justify that.

I will leave the child-rearing to those who are passionate and enthusiastic about the process, and I feel no guilt in doing so.


Source: QUORA