While reading a book by local author Laura Lee Carter,  I was awed by her conviction that not raising children was a good decision. For me, remaining motherless made sense. Although I am not certain of Laura’s reasoning, mine was simple. What would I do with an infant? How could I go to work? What would I do if my baby cried or got hurt?

In my late twenties as I entered a career in education I became intrigued with the ability and love parents had for fostering a ‘better life’ for their children. How in the world they maintained a full time position, got the kids to school on time, made their lunches, prepared dinner, took them for medical care, paid for boy scouts or piano lessons? When did the parents get to play?  And my sister, how did she find a man to love, marry and provide the financial support for them to raise four children? I couldn’t seem to figure it out.

In my thirties, I met a gal who was passionate about sailing and being a mom. I can remember thinking and sometimes admonishing her for wanting to bring her baby along on sailing events. “I can’t concentrate on racing during the day and resting at night with your 3-year-old hanging out with us.”

In my forties, my husband and I were settled into a routine. After twenty years of steady income we could afford to have a child. Well, it never happened for reasons that I may explore in future blogs.

By fifty and surely by sixty my remark when asked if I had any kids was a simple quip, “I used to be too young, now I am too old.”

Reaching 70, do I regret it? No, I lived a good life and like everyone I ever met and many I never will meet, I made the best decisions with the knowledge and beliefs I held at the time.