Life Without Kids *Is* Way Easier

I’ve read about millennials choosing not to have kids at record rates. (This is a completely different situation than the troubling increase in infertility. That’s a whole other discussion.) There’s even a term for these couples– DINK, or “double income, no kids.” Whether for financial reasons, social, or emotional reasons, DINKs are uninterested in trading their comfortable, controllable lives for diapers and sleepless nights.

I’m here to say to the DINKs– you are absolutely right. Life is so much easier without having a child.

How can I vouch for this, as someone who has six kids? Because we are currently experiencing a wave of easiness and carefreeness in the absence of a single child.

Joseph should have been born in June.

Life is 1,000,000 times easier without Joseph. No car seat to cart in and out of the car. No diapers and formula to buy every week. No night-time feedings. No need to cancel our summer travel plans. 1,000,000 times easier.

We were able to get a pool pass last summer, because we for sure could go to the pool any time we pleased. We took a trip to David’s parent’s cabin. I have read *several* books with no pictures for my own enjoyment and cleaned out a few cluttery spots in our home. More time. More money. More sleep.

So much easier without Joseph.

But easier isn’t better. Because I have kids already, I know what I’m trading for that easiness. I know the joy of holding a sleeping baby. I know the mixed feelings of excitement and sadness when those first steps are taken. When the training wheels come off the bike. When the secret code of being able to spell things aloud to David gets broken by a second grader for the first time.

It is so much easier without Joseph. And it is so very much worse.

But the sorry, sad thing is that the DINKs don’t understand what they are trading. When life is just about video games, hiking, and eating at non-chain restaurants that serve locally sourced microgreens, kids are clearly the losing choice. But that’s not comparing apples to apples. That’s comparing the best of being childfree to the worst of being a parent. At the very least, we should compare the best parts of each. Maybe it would be more effective to compare the worst parts of each.

There’s the question of old age. Sure it’s fun to pop off to Vegas for a long weekend as a DINK, but who is going to take you to your colonoscopy appointment when you’re older? Who is going to check on you to make sure you’re taking your medicine every day? Who is going to hold your hand as you take your last breaths and assure you that your life mattered and you will be missed beyond measure?

I’m not saying the only reason to have kids is so that they will fulfill their debt of care to their parents as they age. But I’m also not saying that doesn’t count for something. To have children and grandchildren who will visit and listen and care– that’s not a service you can buy with all your extra DINK pennies.

People in their 20s and 30s can be doing something more interesting than changing diapers. 100%. Ziplining in Costa Rica. Taking a pottery class. Watching an entire season of The Office in a week. Parents are generally unable to do those things.

In his job David meets with clients of all ages. That includes meeting with older couples as they either plan for retirement or plan for leaving a legacy. Do you know what so many of these older people say? Many wish they had had more children. From their seasoned perspective, they have a better view of what truly matters. What endures. And they wish they had had more children.

Jennifer Fulwiler had a great podcast (#107 Fearing Fertility) about how those of us on the crazy-number-of-kids train need to look a little less sackcloth-y. How we need to emphasize how we are able to engage in our passions, even with kids. There’s so much truth to that. I’m ashamed that my noting that I’ve never bought a drink at Starbucks or had a Netflix subscription might have turned some of our acquaintances off to having children.

Our life has been hard. Fifteen years of much hardness. Miscarriage. Cee’s chronic illness. Moving. Losing Joseph. I worry that outsiders looking in see the grey hair and not the smile lines. They see the sacrifice of simple living and miss the joy of inside jokes and an endless supply of cuddles.

It would certainly have been easier to have never had any children at all. Maybe then David and I would have traveled to Prince Edward Island and Ireland. Or own a cool antique car. Or have had time to write a novel.

We aren’t even into the potential payout period (ha!) of parenthood yet, and already I can see that it’s been worth it.

Knowing how much I’ve worried about fevers and rashes and tumbles off of couches and reading comprehension and peer pressure already, I fully understand that parenting is no cake walk. And I choose it.

We didn’t have time to know Joseph’s personality. He could have been even more high-needs than Pio (who is pretty high maintenance already). He could have had a more serious medical diagnosis than Cee. He could have had more learning difficulties than our child with dyslexia. And we would still have chosen him if we could.

Not having to work through the guaranteed needs of another child is so much easier.

Easier isn’t better.

I haven’t asked my dad, so I can’t be completely certain. He and my mom have spent the majority of their lives worrying about, caring for, and sacrificing for me and my five siblings. (To be fair, they have also done lots of fun things together. Travel! Restaurants! Music at the winery!) But facing cancer, I imagine that he wouldn’t trade any of my siblings for a motorcycle. Or more wine.

So that’s what I want the DINKs to consider. What are you really trading? We know which path is easier. That’s obvious. But the path that is more beautiful? The path that has fewer regrets? More joy? That takes living it to know for certain.

The only thing I know for certain is that I would give up just about anything to have Joseph here. I would sleep without a pillow. Take only cold showers. Exclusively eat rice and beans. Wear the same clothes every day. Never touch my cell phone again. Anything for just one day with diapers and crying and smiles.

Easier isn’t better.