a note from the village

hating kids is weird and you should probably get some help <3

Sep 06, 2024

I watched my friend B navigate her first weekend away from her infant last year, at a bachelorette party. She has always been effortlessly sexy, in a Serena Van Der Woodsen kind of way—the girl you’d find dancing on tables, flirtatiously turning away her tenth suitor of the night. Her outfits are straight from your Pinterest mood board, all without trying too hard. She loves being seen, never shying away from a compliment or a camera.

While we were getting ready for our first night out, she whipped out her boobs, laughing about how different they looked filled with milk—one noticeably bigger than the other. Our friend yelled, “Damn! That baby is being fed well!” and B beamed with pride. In the back of Ubers, I saw her hold back tears, watching her perfect daughter on the baby monitor. Hints of frustration slipped through her laughter as she dumped the breast milk she’d pumped at a patio bar, knowing it would go to waste.

There was a time when the easiest way to offend me was by not attending my birthday party. After all the destination weddings, bachelorette parties, baby showers, and gender reveals I’d been to, the least you could do was meet me at a bar. Just find a sitter, hope your baby takes a bottle, and suck it up for one night. The sleep deprivation won’t kill ya! I’d cringe and silently judge when a new mom lost herself, completely consumed by spit-up and diapers. A little voice inside me would scream whenever group conversations were taken over by baby talk.

But then I met Vincent.

On February 27, 2020, my world flipped upside down. After sitting by my sister’s side through her twenty-five-hour labor, Vincent finally arrived—smiling. He didn’t cry at first, which made the nurses nervous, but he was just happy to be here. My relief quickly turned into panic. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to hold all the love I suddenly felt for this little person. Already protective of my younger sister, that day, I became a wolf. Being the hands-off cool aunt wasn’t an option—he became part of me too.

I’ve been asked if having a nephew has warmed me up to the idea of having children, and the truth is, I’m more terrified than ever. It’s a burden to love a helpless, innocent child so much that the thought of loving one of my own makes me nauseous.

If I become a mom, don’t invite me to your birthday party. I ain’t comin’. I get it now.

My sister has waist-length hair extensions, perfectly manicured nails, and quarterly appointments with her injector. She applies a full face of makeup and makes herself a barista-worthy coffee most mornings. She goes on date nights with her fiancé, takes naps when she’s tired, and works five days a week.

My sister also has a village.

Pre-Vincent, hearing “It takes a village” would make my blood run cold. Are the breeders expecting us—cool, child-free elites—to help take after their spawn? I’ve got trips to plan, memories to make, martinis to drink, and hoodrat things to do with my friends. A byproduct of a capitalistic society, I clung to hyper-individualism.

I’ve ~~read a few articles~~ binged a bunch of TikToks1 about the differences between raising children in the US vs. Europe. In the US, parents pressure themselves to keep their kids constantly entertained, filling weekends with carefully planned, kid-friendly activities revolving around nap times and feeding schedules. Europeans, on the other hand, just bring their kids along wherever they go without worrying whether it's kid-appropriate. Think of British pub culture versus taking your baby to a US brewery. One is a normal family activity; the other might cause the hipster at the next table to write some mean tweets about you. And god forbid a baby cries in public—if it’s on an airplane, brace yourself for death threats.

Does being child-free, by choice or not, absolve us of the responsibility for the well-being of children in our communities? Are children no longer considered— I don’t know— literal human beings? We were all kids once, after all.

Being part of the village doesn’t have to mean babysitting or sacrificing your life. It’s just that we’ve strayed so far from the village mindset that even the smallest act of kindness can make all the difference. Whether it’s showing up at your mom friend’s house with a bottle of wine to help fold the mountain of mismatched baby socks or holding the door for the stranger pushing a double stroller. And instead of throwing a tantrum yourself because a baby’s screaming on your flight, maybe pop on some noise-canceling headphones and let the parents survive the ride.

And the next time you get your panties in a bunch because your friend can’t match the time and attention you’ve given them through their life milestones, remember that strong relationships aren’t transactional. Being around children teaches us this—kids aren’t capable of reciprocating in the same way, yet we love them unconditionally.

Love,

Aunt Kristina, proud member of The Village™️

PS- Yes, I’d love to hear your birth story.