There seems to be a general narrative for how one's life should pan out, a narrative that you could probably recite forwards and backwards since you were in pre-school: go to school, get a job, get married, buy a house, and have children. For many people, this narrative fits the course of their lives reasonably well, and many of these people are happier for it--heck, I'm happy for these people, too.

But there are some of us who aren't too partial of our autobiographies panning out with chapter after chapter about the pitter-patter of perfect little toes. If this is you, know that you are far from alone: researcher Warren Waren suggests that 5.3 percent of U.S. women and 5.9 percent of U.S. have elected to be "childfree," or to voluntarily not have children irrespective of the physiological ability to do so, though some figures pen voluntarily childlessness as being closer to 7 percent. And though others may sometimes try to tell you otherwise, this is a perfectly acceptable position to hold.

"But you're so young! You'll change your mind!"

Some people do, and this is okay--many people re-evaluate their life choices at different stages of their lives as they learn more about themselves as people.

But many people who are confident about being childfree as a young adult are equally as confident in and satisfied with this position as an older adult. There are many anecdotal reports of those who had made the decision earlier in life to not have children still being satisfied with that decision later in life--these stories are common throughout a popular group on the anonymous social website reddit, /r/childfree (such as in this thread entitled "Do you have any regrets at all about not having children?" and this thread entitled "people in your 40s or older, are you still a happy childfree person?" [spoiler alert: very few regrets]).

Additionally, a study conducted by the United States Collaborative Review of Sterilization on women 14 years post-sterilization found that only 6.3 percent of women who had never had children regretted the procedure; a similar study shows that 7.4 percent of men have post-sterilization regret (although one sterilization reversal specialist pins the numbers as being closer to 30 percent for women and 20 percent for men). Whether 7 or 30 percent, though, it seems that the majority people who have taken the ultimate measures against having children have not "changed their minds" about having children.

I've known that I don't want children for the past five or so years now--chances are that I'll continue not wanting children well into the next fifty.

"But children complete you!"

We humans, alike as we are in many respects, all have different needs and different interests, and we all have different ways in which we best fulfill those needs and interests. Many people find fulfillment in ways other than children, whether that be throughout pet-adoption, volunteering, gardening, dating, friendship, or even a quiet room full of busy books. What one person feels empty without may be something that another person will never miss. I, for example, would not feel that my house is full unless there are a plethora of books covering a bookshelf, but this does not mean that everyone alive needs a book in hand to feel that sense of completion and satisfaction. Some people simply don't have a child-sized hole in their heart that needs to be filled.

And even some of those holes don't need to be filled by means of parenthood. I absolutely adore children; I'm that person who stops walking in the grocery store just to smile and wave at the kid in the shopping chart. That's why I'm so excited to play with my nieces (and, as of recent, grand-niece) and nephews. As I've said earlier, though, that hole is plenty filled after a few hours of visiting, at which point my energy and sensory reserves are all but completely drained. There are no scarcity of children out there, whether it be through extended family or through friends' family or even through volunteering and being involved in the community. There are many children to care for and be cared by; parenting isn't necessarily required for having one's child-slot filled, should such a hole be present at all.

"But don't you want to leave a legacy behind?"

To an extent, yes, as many people do; that's one reason out of many why I write. My "legacy" doesn't have to share my last name or DNA for me to feel as though I am "living on;" I am perfectly content with my craft and the memories that I leave in the minds and hearts of others being my only "descendants." Many childfree individuals feel similarly--for some of us, that sense of self-preservation, of continuity, can be reached without the exchange of gametes.

Perhaps my view is a bit biased in that the task of passing on the "family name" has already been accomplished by my siblings and by my many, many cousins--both my maternal and paternal families are quite large and full of new babies. My father was a grandfather before I was even born. Even so, though, a family is more than the people who share its blood; a family is projects, passions, carried out through many hands working together; a family is witty sayings and "secret" recipes. Much like an individual person, a family's essence can live on through what that families inspires. Chances are that other siblings and/or cousins, close or extended, will be more than willing to spread genes and expand family trees; regardless, though, hundreds or thousands of years of familial mingling and history are not so fragile as to be destroyed by a few childfree family members.

“You’d make such a great parent!”

This is something often said to those who "get along" well with children, who can spend hours stacking blocks with 2 year olds or who knows exactly what the 6 year old means by "the Lego Hulk game on the computer."

But while I thank you for your compliment, I'm afraid that I, personally, wouldn't make nearly as good of a parent as I do a playmate. I have a low stress tolerance, tire easily (the second your little toddling walks out the door, I'm curled into a ball under three blankets), struggle to be emotionally intimate, and have been known to forget to feed myself for extended periods of time; this would not bode well for the hypothetical offspring in question.

Even if I did have those traits, which might be more compatible with parenthood, as many childfree individuals do, being good at a task does not necessarily mean that one will enjoy doing that task or that doing that task is good for the person doing it. For example, not everyone who was "good" at math in school went on to be a statistician--while statisticians certainly help our society to function, and while being a statistician brings many such people fulfillment, there are many mathematically-inclined individuals who, for whatever array of reasons, simply do not want to devote a considerable portion of their time and energy to solving equations and plugging in ratios. Similarly, many people enjoy pizza and can consume a few slices without much consequence, but most people would not want to have pizza for every breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and snack every day for several decades, and doing so would give many people a stomachache.

Thus, one potentially being a "good parent" is not at all the same as it being good for one to be a parent.

“But who’s going to take care of you when you get old?”

Frankly, I don't have a clue as to who will take care of me if I get old. My current intention is to take proactive steps to keep myself as healthy as possible for as long as possible, but such does not guarantee a lifetime of being able to take care of oneself. Perhaps I will wind up in some assisted living or nurse home facility; perhaps geriatric care will have been taken over by robots or smart-houses by the time I reach such a condition.

A common sentiment expressed by childfree individuals and with which I tend to agree, though, is that it would be both unwise and unfair to automatically expect one’s children to take care of one’s parents. I am not knocking the practice altogether—many people are more than happy and are perfectly capable of taking care of their elderly or disabled parents, and I like to think that I will be the one to take care of my own aging parents, should the time come (and in this lies another reason why it is okay to be childfree--my not having children makes it easier for me to potentially care for my parents than it would be for my siblings who do have children).

But this can not be guaranteed for all children; some are unable to take care of their parents, due to challenging professional lives, demanding family situations, such as having many children or sick or disabled children, and/or their own illness or disability, and some are simply unwilling. US News estimates that around 25 percent of grown children are taking care of elderly parents...but what about the rest? Not every older adult needs to be cared for, of course, but a 2015 study conducted by The Retirement Project suggests that 35 percent of individuals aged 65 and older will enter a nursing home at some point before their death.

Having children for the sole sake of having a caretaker can be a risky investment.

“But who’s going to take over for us when we’re old?” (Otherwise known as ‘Natalism.’)

Many economic experts express concerns about the long-term effects of a decline in birthrates; in Germany, for example, birth rates as of May 2015 have dropped to 8.2 births per 1000 people, which could cause the percentage of individuals aged 20 to 65, or "working age," to drop from 61 percent to 54 percent by the year 2030, which would decrease the number of people in the labor force and potentially harm Germany's economy. Similar concerns have been expressed about Japan and about the United States--this, combined with an increasing number of elderly individuals, causes many to be concerned about the ability for future, less-baby-producing economies to support themselves. Thus, some argue that more adults should have children not for the benefit of the parents but for the benefit of an aging society.

Fortunately, it may be becoming easier for some of the people who want children to be able to do so. The American Society for Reproductive Medicine states that 85 to 90 percent of infertility cases are treated with conventional medicine (which is largely helped by an increasing knowledge of which factors lead to infertility), and there are many programs and reforms aimed at driving down or deferring the costs of such treatments. As the technology advances, one hopes that the 11 percent figure of reproductive-age individuals who are infertile will start to dwindle.

It may also be worth noting that an aging society is not necessarily a disabled society and that a disabled society is surely not an unproductive or unfruitful society. The average retirement age appears to be rising among many Americans; thus, the range of what is considered "working age" is expanding. With both advancing technology and increasing disability advocacy, the range of people with disabilities who are part of the workforce may also expand.

Also, refer back to the prior statistic about the percentage of people who elect to be childfree; though we are ever increasing in number due to changing societal values, we are not yet the majority. On top of this, the statistically average person who has children has more than one.

Even if those who do not desire to have children do not have children, those who do desire such will keep on having children; the mass majority of those people make loving, supportive parents who do their best for their children. The sound of tiny giggles and toy trains will continue to rebound. Parents will continue to serve a vital role in society; the rest of us, too, will continue to serve ours.