In today's New York Times Modern Love column titled "Something Like Motherhood", Carolyn Megan finally put words to feelings for me in describing her fear about having kids. Bold mine.
When the author's brother, in making plans for the aftermath of the impending death of his wife, pleaded with her to move in with him and his two kids she responded;
I never answered him. I said things like "We'll see how this unfolds" or "Don't go there yet." Stall tactics. Each time he asked, I felt trapped, an impendin sense of desperation adn doom. It's the same feeling I had years ao that led to my decision not to have children.
The decision came from my desire to be fully in my life as a writer rather than to raise a child. Having a child was not how I wanted to make meaning of my life, not how I wanted to give back to the world. And the reason for this was my sense that I would love too fiercely, too desperately at the cost of my self.
I knew my children would always come first and my art second, and I sensed the resentment I would feel about that. So I made a choice and said no to the idea of a child. But my niece and nephew are alive and here and need taking care of now. And I have stepped in without hesitation, something I could never regret.