Unpopular Opinion: Stop Assuming Everyone Wants Kids

My “friends” can baby-shame me all they want, but I know who I am.

By: Isabelle Dungan

Me on a walk in my happy place, finding peace and clearing my mind.

I’m at a point in my life where most of my friends have checked a lot of boxes. Steady jobs, million-dollar homes, fairytale weddings.

At 40, my life has taken a different path and I do not want to apologize to anyone for that, especially to other women. I’ve chosen “struggling actress and freelancer” as a career path and I’ve never had much of a 401K or savings account. While most of my friends have mortgages, I’ve rented every apartment I’ve ever lived in.

In my twenties and early thirties in New York City, I was an unapologetic wild child. I’ve dated a lot of different men from a lot of different backgrounds. (And who have been in various stages of relationship status.)

During COVID I fell in love with my current partner, and I moved across the country from my one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment to a log cabin in the woods, where he had been living. Compared to some of my friends' steady, stable lives, it’s a much less traditional path. Neither of us have family nearby to help out with anything. I’m a Nichiren Buddhist who leads women’s groups in this remote area of the Pacific Northwest and he is an outdoorsman, carpenter, and general contractor. Our lives don’t look like some of the other people we know and we’re ok with that.

And we’ve also gone back and forth (a bunch) about having kids.

From a photoshoot for my acting portfolio. It makes me think: “Stop judging and start embracing.” I am doing just fine.

There are myriad reasons why I would not procreate at this moment in time: The world is a hot mess, microplastics are crowding our brains and bodies, and who knows if future generations will even have access to basic vaccines or clean water.

But, putting aside the real-world issues surrounding procreation, the indecisiveness of my own heart, and the yo-yo-ing of my partner on this subject, the real difficulty —and the deeper pain — has come from the judgment and pitying I’ve been getting from my alleged friends.

Over the years, I have chosen to surround myself with good women. I have found judgment-free friends who share their children and their struggles with me freely. In turn, I can support them and hold space for them. I’ll even do school pickup, change diapers, and play with their kids any time. Some of the new moms I’ve known are the loneliest people out there and I have always wanted to be there for them.

Snacks after pick up with Corynne’s son in 2018. She’s someone who encouraged me to write this piece and has always brought me into the fold of her family.

I also have friends who have been through devastating losses trying to conceive and I try to compassionately support them every step of the way. This reciprocity between women at this fragile, middle-stage of life is a beautiful thing. I respect their choices and they respect mine. Or so I thought.

Over the past year, just as I thought I had edged out all the toxic female relationships from my life, I’m getting the ick. I recently found out a good friend had been hiding her pregnancy from me.