I Feel Like I Have to Choose Between Starting a Family or Caring for My Parents

In recent years, a deeply personal and emotional dilemma has weighed heavily on me. As a Latina in her mid-30s with parents in their late 60s, I find myself standing at a crossroads: Do I fulfill my desire to start a family of my own or spend my time and resources taking care of my aging parents? 

Like many Latinas in my age group, I'm feeling the pressure of clashing cultural expectations. I've been taught that I’m supposed to have children, but I'm also supposed to care for my parents. However, choosing one almost certainly means I cannot do the other. Yet, I constantly feel pulled in both directions.  

For years, I've battled marianismo — a gender role expectation demanding Latinas conform to traditional perceptions of femininity — and the cultural expectations that demanded I become a mother. I've endured years of peer pressure and the ubiquitous “¿Y los hijos, para cuando?" often thrown my way. I've had to learn to be firm by guarding my boundaries and making it known that los hijos will come when I want them to, that there is nothing wrong with me sin hijos. 

I have chosen to remain child-free because I wanted to earn an MFA, write and publish a book, nurture my burgeoning career as a writer, bask in a little freedom, and because, given the current state of our world, starting a family is a decision that will take a great deal of consideration. How do I reconcile our healthcare system's harsh reality, climate and economic crises, and my personal goals? And then there are my parents. How can I start a family when I know my parents will need me to care for them?

But the older I get, the more pressing the question of whether I will have a family becomes. I’m at an age when the expectation that I will become a mother has not gone away, and concerns about whether I’m running out of time have started to creep up. I have dreamed of becoming a mother for at least 10 years now. The thought of nurturing a tiny life, witnessing their first steps, and experiencing the rewards of unconditional love between a parent and child fills my heart with joy. I yearn for the opportunity to create a loving family of my own, to pass down my cultural heritage, and to provide a nurturing environment for my children to thrive. 

However, as a Latina, I’m acutely aware of the deep-rooted sense of filial responsibility ingrained in our culture. Our parents have sacrificed so much for us, and many of us feel like we must care for them when they need us most. The thought of not being there for them, of not reciprocating the love and support they have given me throughout my life, fills me with guilt.

Recently, I learned of the term "sandwich generation caregiver," which refers to people caring for older adults and young children. It's a difficult position to be in and one that requires many sacrifices. I'm not sure I want that for myself. For me, it feels like I have to make a choice.

Yet, choosing between parenthood and elder care is not just a matter of emotions; it also carries significant financial burdens. Raising children requires financial stability. To give a child a better life than I had, just as my parents did for me, I must provide for their basic needs and ensure access to quality education and opportunities. On the other hand, caring for aging parents often comes with unexpected medical expenses and the need to balance work and caregiving responsibilities. It's a delicate balancing act that can strain one's finances and emotional well-being.

Our broken healthcare system further compounds this predicament. The fear of not being able to afford quality healthcare for my children or provide the necessary support for my aging parents adds an unbearable layer of stress to an already overwhelming decision-making process. It is a cruel irony that in a country that prides itself on progress and prosperity, access to basic healthcare remains a privilege rather than a right.

In addition to the economic and healthcare challenges, I must also confront my eco-anxiety. I fear the state of our planet and the uncertain future it holds. The decision to bring children into a world plagued by environmental disasters, climate change, and social injustices becomes an ethical dilemma that adds another layer of confusion and complexity. How can I reconcile my desire to nurture new life with the knowledge that our planet is in peril and that I might need to save my resources and energy to care for the family I already have?

I'm not afraid of caring for my aging parents when the time comes. I look to this opportunity with gratitude. Being in my 30s has also made me hyper-aware of death and the inevitable reality that my parents will not be around forever. Seeing some of my peers confront the grief of losing their parents has made me grateful that I still have mine. So I look forward to caring for them. I look forward to loving and supporting them as much as they love and support me. I look forward to the time we have together. These years are precious to me, and I want them to have a good time. I want to be able to take them on vacation. I want them to experience the leisure they deserve. 

The question here becomes about quality of life. How do I negotiate everything I want for myself and what I wish for them? Maybe there's a world where I can be the daughter and mother I want to be. 

I want to be optimistic, so I'm battling the scarcity mindset that I cannot have it all. But I'm also keeping myself grounded in the reality of our current world. The constraints I face as a Latina, the goals and aspirations that I've worked so hard to accomplish, and the cultural duty I have to care for my parents and give them the quality of life I believe they deserve. 

As I navigate this conundrum, I'm trying to embrace the unknown. Sometimes, the choices we make lead us to unexpected blessings. I still don't have the answer. But I trust in my resilience, the strength of my cultural heritage, and the importance of finding a balance that allows me to honor my dreams and the responsibilities I hold dear. One thing I know for sure: Whatever decision I make I will make with love and the best intentions.