Last night, as I hosed paint off of the deck because my 3-year-old decided to dump it over her head like the Ice Bucket Challenge, I thought to myself: "Why the hell did I have kids?"

Five years ago, I was ready and eager to be a mom, excited to make room for children in my life. But even though I went into it totally committed I still wasn't aware how much work they are. Work — and joy! But, seriously: WORK. Exhausting, bone-crushing, emotionally draining, you-will-be-touching-human-feces-often work. And it is work that must take priority over all the other things you'd rather be doing, like binge-watching UnREAL in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, or giving up on the New York Times crossword after five minutes in favor of checking Twitter for an hour. You can't ignore your kid, because he or she is a living, breathing creature who relies on you to maintain his or her existence. Your needs — rest, intellectual stimulation, a shower, frozen yogurt — cease to matter when your child comes into the picture. And there is nothing wrong with finding the thought of this kind sacrifice utterly appalling.

Since popping out my first kid, I've become a constant sounding board for women who wonder if they should have kids. (To be fair, my sensible orthotic footwear and dark eye circles give off a real "talk to me about motherhood!" vibe.) In line for sliders at fancy cocktail parties, hanging around in a daze after the world's sweatiest barre class, in the middle of late night text message conversations. "I want kids, but I'm just not sure if now's the time to have them," they say. Others are wide-eyed and nervous but going for it anyway, because they fear they might regret it if they don't. To these women, I whisper, "Godspeed!" and usher them on their way with a box of baby wipes and a Costco-size bottle of tequila in hand. Then there are the ones who wrinkle their noses and say, "I just honestly don't know if I want kids." And to these women I say, "Girl, don't do it." (They also get tequila, because why not.)

For someone who's been more or less "Yay, kids!" all her life, I was shocked to find that my certainty about having kids wavered once I got pregnant. Right as my body shape-shifted, my career had just started to click. I was living in New York City, editing a website, managing a small team of writers, running around to screenings and celebrity interviews, and on the weekends, I performed improv comedy to sold-out crowds. I worried about what Daughter #1's arrival would mean for this frenetic, artistic routine that fed my soul. While I was ecstatic when she was born, I still struggled with a foreign emotion those first few months as a mom: I missed my old life. When my husband's paternity leave was over, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried out of jealousy that he got to go back to his office while I was stuck in our apartment with my shirt off, child attached at the nip. I longed for my windowless office, the slog of meeting after meeting, and the aggressive rush of the Times Square subway station. I craved the trips to my yoga studio, the late night spent over pitchers of beer at my favorite dive bar, plans made at the very last minute, the ability to do whatever the hell I wanted, when I wanted, just because.

I eventually ended up back in that windowless office after my three-month maternity leave ended. I even made it out for beer occasionally, although I did have only one pint before hitting the road because I had a breastfeeding baby at home who'd be up at midnight wailing for a boob. But I very quickly learned that when it comes to life with kids, there is no balance. Your focus teeter-totters in all sorts of directions. Just when you have things synced up at home, work goes scattering. When your work is in order, your home life gets neglected. My husband is an equal partner is this parenting game, and I still sometimes worry that I've given up too much of myself for my kids. At every turn, you question if what you are doing is right for them, right for you, right for us. There is no clear path or easy answer, no one there to tell you, "Congrats, you made the right decision!" You just do it, and hope you don't screw your kids — or yourself —up too much in the process.

The pressure on women to nail down this mothering thing is relentless. Despite being encouraged to lean every which way, we are still told by society that only kids will make us truly #blessed, and are constantly reminded that 35 years old is considered "later in life" for having children. Not to mention, we have to do it in a country with exorbitant childcare costs and no guaranteed paid maternity leave, two factors that make the decision to have kids even more complicated. And yet, it's as if the world is walking around with a bullhorn in our face, screaming, "Figure it out!"

To make matters worse, while you're weighing your options, people who have kids just love to drop the ol' "you don't know real love until you've had kids" line. Don't be shamed or pressured by these smug know-it-alls. Love can be found in so many places: with family, friends, animals, and volunteering. Through travel, spirituality, and exploration. This love can be meaningful, profound, life-altering, and, yes, real. A life without children can and will be incredibly fulfilling. We can mother in so many ways, even without kids of our own. Adopt an animal, mentor a student, get close with your nieces, nephews, or friends' kids.

This is not to discourage you from ever going for it. Doubting and questioning are totally normal things to do before and throughout motherhood. But there is nothing wrong with having a passion so deep that it requires your full attention or simply wanting to be able to spend all weekend re-reading Harry Potter for the fifth time. There is no shame in saying to your hypothetical, imaginary, incredibly attractive, and well-behaved children, "Sorry, but I choose this other thing over you."

If you are truly undecided, torn, sitting squarely on the fence not knowing what the fuck to do — don't have kids. At least, not yet. Wait until you feel confident that these sacrifices and life changes are ones you can embrace not just because you feel like you should or because the world around you is telling you it's time. Do it because you can't imagine your life moving forward without them, feces and all.

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