Here it goes: My name is Jessie, and I’ve never felt inclined to be a mom.

In my younger years, I figured most girls felt that way, and that it would be a phase that would pass—though, when people would tell me “Oh, you will want one in time!” I would get defensive: “Y’all don’t know me! I don’t want to be a part of your system! Don’t tell me how to live my life!”

Side note: I don’t actually, and never have talked like that. Comedic effect, friends.

When I was younger, I felt my lack of drive to want children was based on my own lack of a maternal figure in my life: I, of course, had a mother, so to speak—she just wasn’t there. What I mean is, even when she was physically present, her mind was elsewhere, and eventually, her physical body followed. It’s a really long and sad story that involves drugs, abandonment, and death, and I won’t get into it now. The point is, I never had a “mom” to look up to the way most of my other friends did. And I blamed that.

But there are plenty of women who either didn’t have a mother at all, or had a really bad one, and they still feel the drive to procreate—if for nothing else than to provide a life for a child that they never had.

And here I am, still stuck in limbo. I feel the societal pressure. Even the supposed biological clock women have that drives them to start making babies ticks every once in a while loud enough that I can hear it. My sister just had a baby, and my dad asked me when I would start cranking some out. I just turned 30. I’m about to graduate college, with a great job prospect on the horizon. When will there be a better time than now? But the drive is still just not there.

For me, my excuses started with the practical: I’m still in college. I don’t have a career yet. I don’t have enough money. I don’t have the time to focus on bringing up a child the way I would see fit.

Then, they became more logical: I have a lot of genetic health issues and predispositions. Do I really want to pass that down to a child?

And then it turns to what people deem “selfish”: I want to be able to nap whenever I feel like it. I want to go hang out with my friends and not have to worry about finding a sitter who could live up to my standards.

Even more selfish: I work out every single day just to maintain an average body weight, and I don’t want all my hard work to go down the drain when I gain pregnancy weight. I definitely don’t want stretch marks on my belly.

But, at the end of the day, to, or to not have a child is my decision. I don’t need reasons. I don’t need excuses. It’s no one’s business and no one’s decision but my own.

The pressure from outside is the most frustrating part. I can’t speak on the subject, even with some of my closest friends, without being ridiculed or questioned. And for a while, I would just blow it off and ignore it. But the more I think about it, the more irritating it is that anyone feels that they have the right to question or judge a woman’s choice.

For me, it is a choice (so far as I know—I’ve never actually tried to get pregnant, so I can’t be sure it’s even possible). But for so many women, it’s not a choice. And either way, it’s no one’s business but hers.

Maybe she’s got PCOS and has a hard time conceiving. Maybe she’s infertile and can’t conceive at all. Maybe she likes to drink too much and isn’t ready to give up partying. All of these things have one thing in common: they are none of your business.

That said, for the sake of argument, I’d like to address some of the more absurd backlash I’ve faced when expressing my opinion about having kids.

First and foremost: My not wanting kids is not a personal attack on you. All too often, if I say something on Facebook about not being a parent, or why it’s nice to not have to worry about kids, I will have at least one person jump down my throat about the struggle of parenthood and how I wouldn’t know, or the joys of parenthood I’ll never experience, or any variety of defense tactics. I said I don’t want kids. I didn’t say you shouldn’t be a parent. And in some cases, if I were to say that, it could be justified. But how you raise your kids is none of my business, just as how I don’t want kids is none of yours. I'm not mocking you, making fun of you, or trying to put you down for having children--I respect your choice. Respect mine.

I had a friend ask if I worry about who is going to take care of me when I get old. Um, no? Dude, if you’re only having kids because you’re scared of being alone and stuck in a retirement home, and you’re wanting to call me selfish for not wanting kids, the hypocrisy is astounding. Your kid is going to pick up on the fact that you chose to have them for selfish reasons. They might wind up hating you, and jamming you in senior living just to never visit you. I’ve volunteered in old folks homes where most of the residents do have kids who don’t care to come see them. I’d rather be sad and alone in my old age than sad, alone, and neglected by my own blood.

And who is to say you won’t outlive your kids? It’s a morbid thought, but it happens; kids can die young.

"How can you look at a baby and not want one for yourself!?" Of course babies are cute (except when they scream and vomit on you). I can look at a baby, think it's cute, poke its little cheeks and coo a bit, and go about my day because I have this awesome thing called self-control. Not that getting pregnant is an indicator of lack of self-control, but I don't see a baby, and then grab the first guy I see and insist he knock me up for the same reason I don't stab every person who upsets me. Actions have consequences. Things need to be thought through.

Plus, human babies are ridiculous. They make me question how in the hell we have made it this far as a species. So many other species can give birth to babies that can immediately do something. Giraffes, for example, drop six or so feet out of their mother's birth canal, often directly onto their heads, and within minutes are able to get up and walk around. Human babies can do literally nothing for themselves for nearly a year, except scream, which, if we look at it from an evolutionary perspective, would be a bad thing that would only work to draw in predators.

“But Jessie! Don’t you want to pass down your genes and keep your family line going?” That’s an interesting thought. But what’s so special about my genes, or yours, or anyone’s? The smartest people in existence are perfectly capable of pumping out offspring that are dumb as hell. And some of the greatest thinkers in the world are the offspring of garbage parents. It’s just not possible to know how your kids will ultimately turn out. I may birth the next Dahmer, and then what will you say?

Ultimately, I know we all want to feel like precious unique little flowers, but there’s nothing special about my genes. As I said earlier, I have genetic health issues and predispositions toward addiction. Does that mean my child would immediately have those problems? Not necessarily—I have never personally been addicted to anything. But I've seen how my dad has struggled, first with an addicted partner, and then with children with addictions. Maybe it’s not a risk I want to take right now.

My absolute favorite was a co-worker I had a few years back. When she found out I was 25, she demanded to know why I didn’t have kids yet. She blew off my legitimate reasons, such as being in college, not being financially secure, mentally prepared, or even having a significant other at the time. She said the girls in her beauty school had kids all the time, and would just “figure it out.” I don’t want to just figure it out. I don’t want to go in with the plan of just figuring it out. She insisted she would have a kid before she turned 25, no matter what. Mind you, she was 24 at the time, so I asked if she had a boyfriend, and she said no…but that she would “find someone” to give her a kid. Sure enough, she ended up pregnant by some unknown guy and had a baby before she turned 25, with no intention of having an involved father.

I am not knocking on single parents in any way; I am the product of a single father’s tireless efforts. But, that’s kind of a shitty goal to start out with.

But you know what? I didn’t question her on it. It’s her life. Her choices are none of my business.

So, that’s the ultimate message here. Have kids. Don’t have kids. Have reasons. Have no reasons. Insist you'll never have kids, and then feel free to one day change your mind (which I may very well do. Who knows?). And when people ask why, you don’t need to say anything. And people don’t need to understand. It’s your life. It’s your choice.