Just Not For Me: Loving the DINK Life (and My Friends With Kids Too)
I love my life. Like, actually love it. I sleep in on Sundays. I spend money on overpriced skincare without budgeting for diapers. I book spontaneous getaways without worrying about a school calendar. I am a proud, joyful, fully content DINK: dual income, no kids. And it’s not some sad placeholder until I change my mind. This is the life I chose—on purpose.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t also adore the little humans in my life. My nieces and nephews? Literal heart-melters. I would go full mama bear if anyone ever messed with them. I show up to birthday parties with glittery gift bags and cupcakes I definitely didn’t bake myself. I cheer at soccer games. I’ve watched Encanto more times than I care to admit because they asked. Being Auntie Dev is a role I take seriously—and it fills me up.
And still…
This whole motherhood thing?
Couldn’t be me.
It’s not because I hate kids. It’s not because I don’t think parenting is beautiful and important and world-shifting. It’s because I’ve spent years figuring out what kind of life feels good in my body, what feels aligned with my mental health, my relationship, my energy—and the honest answer is: not this.
I think we need more room for both truths to exist.
That I can celebrate your pregnancy announcement and also feel relieved it’s not mine.
That I can hold your baby and be genuinely obsessed, and also hand them back and go home to silence and sushi.
That I can show up to the group chat full of school schedules and tantrum stories and just listen, because I’m over here dealing with my own chaos—just in different form. (Usually work stress and my dog barking at a leaf.)
I’ve had people tell me I’ll regret it. That I’m selfish. That I’ll change my mind. I don’t argue anymore. I just smile and sip my wine that costs more than a toy I’d step on at 3am. Because the truth is—I know myself. I know my capacity. I know the shape of the life that makes me feel whole. And it doesn’t include lullabies, carpools, or trying to hide snacks from toddlers.
But it does include love. Big, generous, wild love. For my partner. For my dog. For my creative work. For my body, which I’m still learning to live in. For the tiny humans who light up my world without making me responsible for shaping theirs.
So yes—I’m a DINK. Proudly. Joyfully. Softly.
And yes—I love your kids. Fiercely. Always.
Both things can be true.
And maybe that’s the whole point.
- Auntie Dev (for life)
