It was past midnight that I ordered a Grab to get to Happy Garden where my cousin lived. I needed to bunk a night with her before heading home to Banting.
I don’t know how I looked in my orange kebaya blouse (I had removed the kerongsang) and my Uniqlo jeans (yes, those super comfy jeans that don’t need zipping) but I hoped I didn’t look like some GRO off shift. After all, I was hailing a Grab from Le Meridien Sentral.
My thoughts raced to those horror midnight ride stories so I was rather relieved when I got into the car and the guy started chatting with me. He didn’t seem creepy though it was 12.30am. And I made sure I sat at the back. In the past, I used to sit right next to the driver, at the passenger side but I figured it is not too smart a move if the driver tries to do something funny.
Inevitably, he asked me what I was doing and where I was from.
I told him that I’m from Penang and I was at Le Meridien to attend a USM alumni gathering/dinner. And of course, he had to ask about kids.
For me, this is the question that most people ask me harmlessly and expect me to say, “Two kids – a boy and a girl.”
I said I don’t have kids.
Dead silence follows this in most conversations.
The other person is usually thinking – oh gosh, what do I say to her?
When I say this, I always prime myself for the reaction. Malaysians generally assume if you’re married, you must have kids. It’s a given.
In the darkened car, I couldn’t see the guy’s reaction but he followed up with a mumbled and muffled sorry.
I reassured him I am in no way embarrassed or depressed about not having kids, to which he brightened up a bit and resumed his chattiness. He started telling me he had 4 kids and soon, he shared that his sister had difficulty getting pregnant despite multiple checkups. As a Muslim, he said he felt sorry for his sister and her husband as they really wanted children.
I can understand her predicament. It’s not easy when everyone tells you, no, demands that you have kids the moment you tie the knot. And when you don’t, there’s something awfully wrong with you.
Just last week, I was again talking to a newfound friend – a friendly Malay girl from KL – and she asked that question again.
And when I said I have no kids, I saw her flustered face and her quick, embarrassed “sorry, sorry”. I was so inclined to pat her hands and say, there, there. Why should you be sorry that I have no kids?
And lest you think it’s only the Malay-Muslim community that’s hung up about kids, no, it’s not.
When we were chatting during our USM coursemates’ gathering over the superbly delicious buffet dinner (amidst some fantastic North Indian curried mutton and briyani actually), Karen decided to survey some of our friends why they decided to turn up last minute to the dinner.
Karen, me and two other friends had banded together to organise this dinner but in typical Malaysian fashion, many of our ex-coursemates had to wait till the last minute to RSVP which made our arrangements difficult.
So when a few last minute folks turned up, Karen couldn’t help but ask outright – “What made you decide to attend tonight’s dinner?”
One of the answers came from a friend who is a researcher and academician. She pointed out that she decided to come because of Nir who had flown back all the way from Germany to be at this dinner. She felt if someone took the effort, she would make the effort too. And we had friends who had flown in specially from Hong Kong and China too.
That was a good response.
A little later, she said that she believed she would attend because we were all OK and open about our lives. For instance, about either being single or not having kids.
And I had earlier remarked to Karen, sometimes we are 44 but we act like we’re still 24!
Class reunions are not supposed to be shaming episodes about who is successful or who is not. I know some people who stay away from class reunions because they believe they are not good enough or high enough on the corporate ladder.
Many of my USM friends are accomplished in their own right. They’re successful where they are and I’m super proud of them.
But sometimes the stigma of being single or not having children (perhaps to some it’s a shame, to others it’s a badge of honour) prevents people from seeing that there are other things in life that people can be contented with.
Once many years ago, two friends had a long lunch with me and they asked me if I had considered adopting. I said no.
I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I am happy if you have kids. Just because I don’t have any doesn’t make me hate kids. I love my nephew and niece and take every chance I get to go home and cook for them. Vincent and Vinnie love me for my egg mayo sandwiches and all manner of Cantonese food that I cook for them.
I will sound rather selfish saying this but I relish my freedom. Of course many have asked me, “Don’t you miss being a mum?” And I think, you don’t miss what you have.
I don’t really crave being a mother if that’s what most women want to be. I am also fine if you want to be the best mother you can be to your kids. Most of my friends are excellent mothers – I’m surrounded by nurturing women who think mothering is the best job in the world.
I am such an anomaly that people don’t know how to decipher me.
Perhaps sometimes I should lie when people ask me if I have kids. I should nod and smile and chatter on about my two kids – a boy and a girl. I can probably bring out photos of my nephew and niece to add to the drama. It’s a lot easier than having to explain why I chose not to.
Perhaps I should pacify everyone by saying, yes I tried but nothing happened and I think God has a bigger plan for me. I think people just want me to say that I tried and shrug it off as God’s will.
Funnily, people frame the world accordingly and make up their own reasons.
Once when Nic said that we don’t have kids, the other person quickly responded, “You mean, not yet right?” Whatever floats your boat, people.
I’m not crazy and neither is Nic. We both feel that there’s a lot we want to do in life and perhaps God is being kind to us by not giving us kids.
I laugh when I think of a possible kid that we would have – a kid that takes after Nic and all his idiosyncrasies and rebelliousness?
Oh God. I would be busy getting called to the principal’s office to explain why my kid is such a motor mouth with attitude.
Now that would be the death of me!