When Ambivalence is Avoidance

Some tough love for those that have been on the fence for years

I spend a lot of time defending ambivalence about having children. I believe sitting with uncertainty is brave, that questioning this massive decision is responsible, and that our generation’s thoughtfulness about parenthood represents progress.

But.

There’s a point where thoughtful consideration becomes destructive rumination. Where gathering information becomes an excuse to avoid choosing. Where honoring your uncertainty becomes a prison you’ve built for yourself.

I see it in my clients. I see it in my DMs. I’ve lived it myself for years.

You know you’ve crossed the line when you’re no longer gathering new information. You’re just rearranging the same thoughts in increasingly creative ways, hoping a different configuration will finally reveal the “right” answer. There isn’t one.

The Difference Between Productive Questioning and Destructive Loops

Productive questioning looks like:

• Reading about different experiences of parenthood

• Having honest conversations with parents AND childfree people

• Examining your values and how they align with different life paths

• Exploring your fears with curiosity

• Trying on different futures through visualization

• Seeking therapy to untangle childhood stuff from present desires

Destructive rumination looks like:

• Reading the same Reddit threads at 2am

• Asking tons of people what they think you should do

• Waiting for a feeling of 100% certainty that will never come

• Believing that if you just think about it hard enough, the universe will give you a sign

• Treating every mood shift as new data (”I was annoyed by that child at Target - clearly I shouldn’t have kids!” followed the next day by “I smiled at a baby - maybe I DO want them!”)

The Grief You’re Avoiding

At some point, you’re not gathering information anymore. You’re avoiding grief.

The moment you choose, you have to grieve the life you didn’t choose. And that grief is real, even when you’re happy with your decision.

When I decided to have my daughter, I had to grieve the childfree life I’d never have - the spontaneous trips, the career focus, the uninterrupted Saturday mornings.

When I decided to have only one child, I had to grieve the siblings playing together, the chaos of a full house, the relationships my daughter won’t have.

Staying in indecision feels safer because you don’t have to face that grief yet. Every possibility remains open. It’s like being a perpetual browser on Zillow (guilty!) You can fantasize about infinite houses— the cozy cabin on a huge plot of land with some backyard chickens, the mid-century modern where you’re hosting dinner parties, the downtown loft where you’re discovering a new hotspot every night.

You can tour them all in your mind, but never have to write the check, or deal with the leaking roof. You can redecorate these imaginary lives endlessly, and switch between them whenever one starts to feel too real, or too scary.

At some point though, this indecision starts to cost you. Because you are putting off living.

Photo by Brett Wharton on Unsplash

The Information Trap

We live in an age of infinite information. There’s always one more article, one more perspective, one more person’s experience to consider. You could spend a lifetime gathering data about whether to have children.

But information has diminishing returns. The first 10 conversations with parents? Invaluable. Conversations 50-60? You’re hearing the same themes. By conversation 100, you’re spinning. You could survey every single person in the world, and it would still not give you the answer.

More information doesn’t always clarify. Sometimes it just confuses us.

You have enough information when:

• You can articulate your fears clearly

• You understand what you value most

• You’ve examined whether you want kids or just think you should want them

• You’ve considered the practical realities

• You’ve sat with both possibilities and noticed how they feel in your body

• You’ve been through this cycle at least twice without learning anything new

If you’ve done all this and you’re still researching, you’re not looking for information. You’re looking for permission. And nobody can give you that but yourself.

But in case you want it…

You have permission to decide without being 100% certain.

You have permission to make a choice that might be wrong.

You have permission to decide based on practical factors instead of deep spiritual certainty.

You have permission to choose your partner over your ambivalence about kids.

You have permission to admit you’ve gathered enough information.

You have permission to stop treating this decision like it’s the SATs and you just need to study harder.

You have permission to decide today. Or next Tuesday at 3pm. Not because you’re certain, but because you’re done. And exhausted.

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I hope you can take the following with love.

Some of you are suffering more from the indecision than you would from either outcome.

Read. That. Again.

The agony you’re putting yourself through trying to make the “right” choice is worse than whatever challenges would come from either path. You’re so afraid of making a mistake that you’re making yourself miserable in the meantime.

That’s not thoughtful. That’s not responsible. That’s torture.

You cannot think your way to the “correct” answer because there isn’t one. There’s just the life you choose and how you choose to live it.

Sending you so much love,

Amanda