I never consciously decided not to have children. It just wasn’t a priority. I always assumed that once My Brilliant Career was in place, I’d marry and produce two obligatory offspring. But it took so long for My Brilliant Career to happen, I sort of forgot to get around to it.
Sure, I started off with a bang—a supporting role in an A-list Warner Bros. film—but I never landed in that happy place of consistent success that many, including myself, had anticipated. My career path shifted from performer to journalist, columnist, award-winning screenwriter and playwright, television host, and eventually, a successful author. But motherhood? That never made the plan. It was not on my To Do list.
“We all give birth to something. Creations, careers, communities, companies or yes—actual children.”
The reality is: parenthood is still harder for women, no matter how many podcasts or panel discussions tell us we’ve come a long way. Unless you’ve married a particularly evolved partner (as many of my friends fortunately have), the weight of childcare, sacrifices, and schedule gymnastics still lands mostly on the mother. Promotions declined for camping trips. Vacations traded for education funds. All involving a lot of gender driven negotiation. Whose career is more important? Which road shall we take?
Of course, that’s the trade-off—or the gamble, depending on how you frame it. The promise is that one day, someone will be around to help you reset your WiFi password, change a lightbulb or drive you to your cataract surgery. Supposedly.
From what I gather, parenting can be a rollercoaster of inconvenience, expense, and monster teenagers. Yet, I see the tenderness with which my friends parent, the total emotional investment they pour into shaping someone else’s future. It’s a level of care I’ve poured into stories—hours and hours writing and rewriting scripts, carving manuscripts until they felt just right. Maybe that’s my version of parenting. Maybe it’s all the same yearning to leave something behind.
Years ago, one of my publishers sent out a mass email letting authors know which titles were about to be pulped for low sales. My second book was on the list. I gasped, “NO! MY CHILDREN! NOT SHREDDED!” and saved as many copies as I could from the shredder.
We all give birth to something. Creations, careers, companies, communities, or yes—actual children. They’re all shaped by time, love, and a whole lot of uncertainty.
I’ve never regretted the path I took. In truth, I’m not even sure it was a choice—it just was. We all walk our own road, and the wise among us learn not to regret it. Sure, it might hurt when you find yourself nine hours deep into an ER visit, alone, with nobody who gives a hoot about you except the derelict drunk crying on your shoulder. But at this stage, I’m not about to rewrite my own drama.
Linda Kupecek
Share Article
