My mother-in-law often asks my kids when they’ll make them great-grandparents. I don’t mind if it never happens.

The author doesn’t mind if she doesn’t become a grandparent.

Without fail, every time we get together, my dear mother-in-law asks, “When are you having children?”

The question is not addressed to me. I have two sons, now in their early 20s. My younger son is married, and the query is always directed to him and his wife. My daughter-in-law and I exchange a look, and before she can answer, I pipe up with, “Not for a while, I hope.”

My kids have time to figure it out

The truth is, when my wonderful son and lovely daughter-in-law got married three years ago, I asked them to pinky swear that they would not have children for 10 years. Of course, this is not my call to make, but as they tied the knot at 21, it certainly seemed like a prudent pact. They are young, have lives to live, careers to form, and trips to take. There’s time.

I also swore I would not ask them about having children and have since kept that promise. Part of my hands-off approach is out of respect for my children and where they are in their own lives, adulting in their mid-20s, still figuring things out. But the other reason is a personal one that looms larger every day. Though I’ve heard being a grandmother is great, and friends who are living that reality are certainly happy, I’ve never dreamed of becoming a grandmother.

For years, my innermost thoughts and feelings about my children producing their own offspring have been conflicted. It’s not out of concern that they wouldn’t make good parents — they would. My internal struggles orbit around whether the world as it will be really needs more people. I’m not sure it’s such a great idea.

My belief systems are no longer rooted in the religious or patriarchal notions of my youth and upbringing, which held that it’s our duty to continue the species, to go forth and multiply. The reality is that there are already more of us than our blue marble can handle, and we’re ensuring that the climate crisis will make living on it even more challenging, particularly for those with the least ability to cope.

I don’t mind if they never have kids

Some part of me likes the idea of grandchildren, given how my own life has been enriched by having kids — something I want for my own children, if they want it. But I’m also kept up at night by larger worries about environmental challenges and adversities to come, which are concerns that go beyond the usual parental angst over a child’s health and future career paths.

I tend to see the glass as half full rather than empty, but I worry about how my potential future grandchild will navigate the road ahead. In that, I’m sure I’m like every other parent, wishing for a crystal ball to allay anxieties and lost sleep over what cannot be foreseen or controlled.

At the end of the day, the choice will not be mine, it will rest with my children. No matter their decision, I won’t be the one to pressure them one way or the other, and it will certainly not make me love them any less fiercely than I already do.

Whatever comes to pass, so be it. Right now, I’m OK if the line ends.