The Million Peso Question
Before I am called "Mom."
Since getting married, there's one question I've been asked more times than I can count. Most are asked with good intentions, yet some are not as simple to answer as they seem. This is my honest reflection on one of those questions, and the thoughts that stayed with me afterward.
Recently, my husband and I attended a funeral. The place was packed with distant relatives, family friends, and neighbors, all of whom asked the same questions: “Di pa kayo mag-aanak?” (“Aren’t you going to have kids yet?”) or “Wala pabang laman yan?” (“Nothing in there yet?”) — another way of asking if someone is pregnant.
My husband nudged me and quietly asked, “Dapat bang may anak agad pag kasal na?” (“Are you supposed to have kids right after getting married?”). I know it’s a common expectation, for society, married couples are “supposed” to have children. But sometimes, especially for couples like us, the question can feel intrusive. Maybe they’re struggling with infertility, have experienced a miscarriage, simply don’t want children, or have other deeply personal reasons they’re not ready to share.
I understand that people usually don’t mean any harm when they ask. It’s often asked casually, out of curiosity or habit. Still, it can feel uncomfortable, especially when you’re simply not at that stage yet.
But to be honest, I’ve always felt conflicted about parenthood and the immense responsibility that comes with it. It’s not that I don’t like the idea of having a child. It’s the weight of it. The question of what it truly means to be a good parent, and whether I would ever measure up to that.
What terrifies me more is having one and not being enough. Not being the kind of parent my child would need me to be. The endless what ifs that keep echoing as I wrestle with this decision.
What if I fall short?
What if I unintentionally pass down my fears/traumas?
What if love isn’t enough?
That’s what unsettles me, the permanence of it. The reality that you are fully responsible for someone until they can stand on their own. I’m approaching my 30s, and I’m not afraid of the possibility of never having a child, even though society has a way of quietly planting the idea that there’s a “right” age to become a parent, as if our lives should follow a timeline written by someone else.
There’s so much to consider now. Parenthood isn’t something you stumble into “just because,” or because it feels like the next item on a checklist. It’s not a prerequisite for a full life. At least, I don’t think it should be. These days, it feels like you have to think about everything. Financial stability, physical health, emotional readiness. The world is heavier. The stakes feel higher.
Yes, people say you’ll never be 100% prepared until you have a child of your own. And maybe that’s true. But there’s a difference between being unprepared because life is unpredictable, and being unprepared because you didn’t pause to weigh your choices. Some factors are within our control, like having a stable job, being intentional, making conscious decisions instead of drifting into them.
I wouldn’t call myself a perfectionist. Maybe just overly organized in certain areas of my life. I can spend time making sure the bed is neatly tucked, re-reading the same email for the hundredth time, or rearranging the spice rack until it feels “right.” But perfecting small, controllable things is nothing compared to raising a literal human being. A life. A soul entrusted to you.
I’ve always believed that children can feel when something is lacking. They sense instability. They notice absence, even if they don’t have the words for it yet. At least, that’s how it felt for me growing up, and I would never want my child to feel like they were born into hesitation.
I once read that when you decide to have a child, you must also decide to accept the unknown. You don’t get to choose who they will be. There’s no customization screen, no checklist of traits, no guarantees. It’s a blind box. You won’t know their personality, their dreams, their struggles, or the path they’ll take. They may grow into someone completely different from what you imagined, and that’s the point.
Parenthood isn’t about molding a child into your ideal version of them. It’s about showing up. It’s about offering steady love, patient guidance, and unwavering support as they discover who they are.
And if you know in your heart that you can’t embrace that uncertainty, if you can’t love a child without conditions, then it’s worth asking yourself whether you’re truly ready to become a parent. Because having a child isn’t about creating someone in your image. It’s about committing to love someone exactly as they are.
Right now, my husband and I are simply enjoying being together, as a newly married couple. We’ve chosen not to set a timeline or put unnecessary pressure on our relationship. There’s no rush. We just want to go with the flow. If God has plans for us to have a child, I trust that it will happen in His perfect timing, and there will be no regrets.
The conclusion is maybe this fear isn’t a bad thing. Maybe it’s proof that I understand how sacred the role of a parent really is. Still, it lingers, not the fear of motherhood itself, but the fear of not being enough for the life that would call me “Mom.”
Oh, this is a poignant piece Marga. Enjoying each moment and phase of life is so important. Things arrive when they are intended❤️
Marga, this piece was so powerful. As someone who plans not to have children and recently got married, I can totally relate to how you're feeling. As someone who grew up with divorced parents, I constantly asked myself if I ever wanted to have a child when I was growing up, but I decided against it because, after getting married, I realized I'd never want to have any children; however, I am a cat mom, so I definitely know what it's like to relate to the chaos of parenthood. If you and your husband do decide to have children, that is entirely up to both of you. You shouldn't have to feel pressured into having one just because your family is pressuring you to do so. I hope you and your husband enjoy your newly married life, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. 😊