I’ll never have children. Making the call to have my hysterectomy — well before I even met my husband — was a difficult decision. I knew what I was sacrificing. And dating after that point proved a rough road as men walked away and made disparaging comments about my “barren" state (thank you for transporting us back to the 1800s). But my health won out over any maternal instinct. And I don’t regret that choice years down the road with a wedding ring on my finger. (Turns out, if you wait long enough, a real man will show up)

With the state of the world these days, that decision is even easier. I’d feel horror at attempting to have children and guide them through these disasters. I fret over my niece and nephew as it is. It’s a peace of mind, for me.

And at the rate things are going? I’m not sure I’ll need to worry about growing old and finding someone to care for me.

Freelance science writer, meanderer of thoughts, and complete animal nut. My life is governed by a tiny demon (or possibly a flerken - still running tests).