As a parent, you want to do your best. You focus on your child, ensuring they're emotionally safe, properly socialized, and academically challenged — anything to set them up for success.

It's hard to fathom a dark outcome: that your child would grow up to assassinate someone, or be accused of doing so.

That's what Luigi Mangione's parents experienced last week, as the 26-year-old accused killer of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was charged with murder as an act of terrorism. And the parents of 15-year-old Natalie Rupnow, who killed two and injured six others at a Wisconsin school before dying of a self-inflicted gunshot, according to police.

Working with parents who've watched their kids sink into dangerous behavior, family therapist Rachel Goldberg said it's very hard for them to heal. She said parents must strive to find self-compassion and "separate their identity from their child's actions," no matter how challenging.

Parents of shooters experience remorse and confusion

In her 2016 memoir, "A Mother's Reckoning," Sue Klebold, the mother of Columbine shooter Dylan Klebold, wrote about struggling to call her son a "monster" after he killed 13 people in 1999. "When I hear about terrorists in the news, I think, 'That's somebody's kid,'" she wrote in the book.

Peter Rodger, the father of Isla Vista killer Elliot Rodger, wrestled with similar confusion and guilt. He remembers sitting in horror, watching his son's retribution video, which he posted on YouTube before stabbing, shooting, and using a car to hit bystanders in 2014. "Elliot was far from evil," Rodger told ABC that year. "Something happened to him. He was the most beautiful, kind, sweetheart of a boy."

Such an event "forces us as parents to contend with our worst fears," Annie Wright, another family therapist, told Business Insider. "The lack of control, at some level, over who they become."

Mangione's family is wealthy and well-known in their community as the owners of a golf club and philanthropists. He attended the Gilman School, a prestigious private school in Baltimore, where he graduated as valedictorian and was described by his peers as "very social" and "very into sports."

Goldberg said that a parent's imagined worst-case scenario is usually that their child would become a lonely, unemployed adult living in their basement. If a child does the unthinkable, recovering as a parent can feel impossible.

Limits to a parent's control

Kids don't need to be out of the house to be mysteries to their parents. In the wake of the Wisconsin shooting, authorities are combing through Rupnow's online activity in search of a motive, finding a version of her life seemingly concealed from others, like her fascination with the Columbine shooters.

Once a child is over 18 and financially independent, parents' control over their lives becomes even more tenuous. In the Mangiones' case, their son stopped responding to messages for months before he was arrested.

For parents watching their adult kids slip into alarming behavior, their options are legally limited, Goldberg said. Often, their best defense is talking to their kid, but "it really depends how much their adult child is willing to let them in."

Wright said that involving third parties can help. Parents can try family therapy or find licensed professionals who can help manage their child's physical or emotional pain. Parents can also call their local authorities in extreme cases, such as when their child is in immediate danger or endangering someone else.

Goldberg said the best thing parents can do is know their child as well as possible and act when something feels off. "Don't wait until it gets really bad if you can possibly intervene earlier," she said.

Even then, sometimes, intervention falls short.

Rodgers, the Isla Vista shooter, was in therapy from the age of 9. Peter Lanza, the father of Sandy Hook shooter Adam Lanza, said his son had been assessed by mental health professionals multiple times.

Pain a parent can't fix

Loneliness and isolation can often be red flags when analyzing a child's behavior. Still, Mangione, who started a gaming club in college and was part of a fraternity, appeared surrounded by people.

This made it harder for him to disappear fully: In July 2024, when he cut off contact with his family, cousins and friends reached out on social media. In November, his mother filed a missing person's report in San Francisco, where Mangione has some relatives.

Despite his seemingly solid network of friends and family, Mangione had spondylolisthesis, a painful spinal condition. He frequented Reddit communities related to back pain, describing his symptoms as "absolutely brutal" and "life-halting." That can be isolating, Goldberg said.

"It is a very lonely place to be in pain all the time because you can't really be present with people," he added.

In 2022, when Mangione lived in a Hawaiian surf community, he experienced sciatica, debilitating nerve pain, in his leg. R.J. Martin, who owned the co-living space, told The New York Times that Mangione "knew that dating and being physically intimate with his back condition wasn't possible."

While parents can do a lot to relate to a child's pain, such as listening and doing their best to understand the nuances of what their child is going through, "empathy alone can't bridge every gap," Wright said.

Parents can still protect themselves

Goldberg's clients, particularly parents of kids with substance abuse issues, struggle to move past their guilt. Acceptance can take a lifetime.

"They live in fear of getting a phone call from the police or hospital; they question everything they have done," she said. "They often feel incredibly helpless and stuck."

Wright said the resulting grief from something like this can be "extraordinarily complex" and "often includes sorrow, not only for the victims and their families but for the loss of the child they thought they knew."

She suggested therapy and, for those with religious affiliations, seeking spiritual leaders they trust. Parents can feel so many conflicting emotions, and it's important to "allow these emotions to coexist without rushing to tidy them up," she said.

This is especially hard for the parents who felt they tried their best.

Upon learning of Mangione's arrest, his family released a statement contrary to the manifesto found with their son during his arrest. "We offer our prayers to the family of Brian Thompson, and we ask people to pray for all involved," they said. "We are devastated by this news."

Some parents try to find meaning in the tragedy. Klebold wrote her memoir and participated in press interviews. Chin Rodger, mother of Elliot, started speaking at threat assessment trainings. She hopes that people will get better at identifying the red flags of someone going through a mental crisis.

Still, some just wish it never happened. Adam Lanza's father blames himself for overlooking the warning signs. "You can't get any more evil," Lanza told the New Yorker in 2014. "How much do I beat up on myself about the fact that he's my son? A lot."

• Lena Bradley, 62, is raising her two young grandchildren despite mobility issues.
• The mom of four has been looking after kids for almost 45 years after getting pregnant at 16.
• She said her methods are consistency and structure. And, as times have changed, limiting screen use.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lena Bradley, 62, a nursing assistant and student from New York. It has been edited for length and clarity.

The second of my three daughters got pregnant at 18. Family circumstances meant I'd raised my grandson, Kvion, 14, from infancy.

I've been raising his sister, Kylnn, 10, for four years. As their grandma, I didn't hesitate to step in because it was the right thing to do.

After getting pregnant at 16, I've been raising kids for four and a half decades. It's been longer than that because I babysat my younger siblings while my mom worked full-time.

I've always enjoyed having my apartment full of people, but as I've gotten older, it's become more of a challenge. It's noisy all the time and, now I'm in my sixties, I often crave some peace and quiet.

I'm getting older all the time

One of the main difficulties is my stressful job as a part-time nursing assistant in the intensive care unit at a hospital. I'm also in college studying gerontology. I'm always looking to better myself, and once I qualify, I hope to work as a social worker for the elderly.

Still, I'm getting older myself. I have arthritis in my knees. My grandkids like to ride about on bikes and scooters. This time of year, they want to go ice skating at Rockefeller Center or in Central Park.

People often ask me about my methods for raising children. I'm all about consistency and structure. It worked for me when I cared for my family at a young age.

I apply the same techniques with my grandchildren. We all sit down together for scheduled, regular meals. We interact and ask about each other's day.

My reward is seeing my grandkids safe and happy

Still, times have changed since my kids were little. Technology is everywhere. My grandson and youngest daughter, Johnia, 19, who lives with us, aren't allowed to bring their phones to the table. The kids' electronics are switched off by 9 p.m.

I satisfy their needs, but they'll earn some other stuff by helping with chores. Meanwhile, my reward is seeing this new generation safe and happy. They're such a blessing.

Another benefit is knowing I'm unlikely to be lonely in later life. Yes, I'm not getting me time, and I won't be jetting off somewhere by myself. My me time is going to the bathroom and having that bathroom to myself.

But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Do you have an interesting story to share with Business Insider about your role as a grandparent or being raised by a grandparent? Please send details to this reporter at [email protected].

• Brandon Chia and his wife felt like they didn't have enough time for their newborn in Singapore.
• They are both nurses and when they came across a job opportunity in New Zealand, Chia applied.
• Since moving, their quality of life has improved, Chia said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Brandon Chia, 31, a nurse in the South Island of New Zealand. Chia moved from Singapore to New Zealand in 2022. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2022, my wife and I had our first baby. We were juggling the demands of parenthood while working as ICU nurses in Singapore.

After 16 weeks of paid maternity leave — the standard amount for Singaporean mothers — my wife, Jiar Lin, and I started working alternate shifts to care for our newborn daughter.

I worked the morning shift, and she worked the afternoon. We would hand our baby over to each other and go out to earn money.

When our daughter was about to turn one, we realized we weren't spending enough time with her. We were always exhausted from work and didn't have time to enjoy time together as a family.

So, we thought, what other options can we consider? Quitting our jobs wasn't possible because the cost of living in Singapore was high.

At that time, we noticed many job advertisements on social media from Australia and New Zealand that were looking for ICU-trained nurses. My wife said, "Just apply and see how it goes." So, I did.

Within two weeks, I heard from the hospital. Two hours after my interview, I received a job offer. It all happened so fast. I remember thinking, "OK, this is getting real." My wife and I had a chat and then decided we'd give it a go.

Initially, our parents didn't want us to go. The flight from Singapore to New Zealand takes almost 10 hours. But we told them not to feel like we were abandoning them. Rather, it was a way for us to have more time for our daughter.

At the time, my parents were full-time caregivers for my late grandfather, while my wife's parents lived in another city. We knew we didn't want to ask them to look after our daughter on a permanent basis.

Our quality of life increased

In October 2022 — around four months after receiving the job offer — I moved to the West Coast of the South Island in New Zealand, a three-hour drive from Christchurch. My wife and daughter joined me seven months later once things had settled down.

The South Island feels like the countryside. There are no shopping centers near our house, and many people grow their own fruit and vegetables. We live in a nice community where people and colleagues often share their produce. I also started to learn gardening and now grow tomatoes in our backyard.

From the beginning, I noticed a big difference in the work culture. The environment is less stressful, and there's a lot of emphasis on not bringing work back home.

The shift patterns here are more regular. In one week, for example, I'll work the afternoon shift for three, and then the next week, I'll work a stretch of night shifts. In comparison, at my previous job, I sometimes worked a morning shift the day after completing an afternoon shift.

In New Zealand, my wife is able to stay home to care for both our daughter, who is now 3, and our 9-month-old son, who was born here. She says it's a privilege to be able to spend time with the kids in their formative years — that's the reason we moved to New Zealand. She plans to return to work on a part-time basis to keep her nursing skills up to date in the future.

My annual income increased by around 15% in New Zealand. However, income tax rates can go as high as 30%. In comparison, the national income tax in Singapore is 11.5% for salaries between SG$80,001 and SG$120,000, and lower for those earning less.

Although I make less overall after taxes, I get more cash on hand compared to Singapore. There's more flexibility because I don't have to contribute to the Central Provident Fund, a compulsory savings account in Singapore comparable in some ways to a 401(k) in the US. In Singapore, the account is mandatory and run by the government.

I also get more annual leave in New Zealand — around 25 days in total.

We get to spend more time together as a family

With more spare time, we get to take short monthly family vacations. Sometimes, we drive north to hot springs, down south to explore the rainforest, or to Christchurch to eat the Chinese food we miss.

In New Zealand, we can afford to have a car. Our decent secondhand Toyota was around $7,500. In comparison, a car in Singapore can cost more than $100,000. It's much more convenient than taking buses and trains everywhere.

The drawback is that we no longer have support from family members. We've made friends since moving here — most of whom we've connected with through our Instagram page. So, if we need help, we'll reach out to them. But of course, it's always a lot easier to reach out to family for help.

Raising kids in a less stressful environment

When I was in school as a kid in Singapore, there was a huge emphasis on doing well academically. Even when I was working as a nurse, I remember my colleagues getting together during lunch break to discuss national exam papers and the tutors they needed for their own children. I didn't even have kids then and was already aware of the stress it could cause.

In comparison, the focus here is more on character-building, outdoor adventure, and being close to nature. Hopefully, our children can pursue whatever dreams they want.

We rent a two-bedroom house in New Zealand for 340 New Zealand dollars, or around $200 a week. We've received our New Zealand residency, and our next goal is to buy a house.

Our plan for now is to stay in New Zealand and take trips home regularly to visit family.

Oklahoma will consider a new measure to make the role of school district superintendent an elected position in response to a spate of controversial situations involving scholastic leaders, Fox News Digital has learned.

There have been allegations and news reports about several issues: the refusal to remove "pornographic books" from school libraries, the dismissal of a teacher for failure to comply with a COVID-19 face mask mandate, and media coverage of "nothing [being] done" in response to reports a school football coach was bragging about sexual conquests with parents.

In 2021, Oklahoma Gov. Kevin Stitt called firings of mask-averse teachers "preposterous" and said their talents are needed more than ever.

"This is about a school district not following state law — this isn’t a debate about masks," he said, after the Oklahoma City district reportedly fired multiple educators, adding the state previously banned such firings.

STATE SCHOOLS CHIEF BILLS KAMALA HARRIS $474M FOR EDUCATION COSTS OF ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION

In February, Oklahoma State Superintendent of Schools Ryan Walters — who is an elected official himself — threatened to lower the accreditation of Edmond, Oklahoma, schools if it didn’t remove the books "The Glass Castle" and "Kite Runner" from its high school libraries.

Walters called the inaction "subversion of accountability," though Edmond’s superintendent said the state lacked authority to remove the books based on a 1997 district policy.

In another case, in Edmond, Republican Sen. Ted Cruz from neighboring Texas, among others, blasted videos showing a portion of a school fundraiser wherein students were licking each other's toes. 

In a public statement, school officials appeared to celebrate the event:

"This afternoon, Deer Creek High School announced a grand total of $152,830.38 raised for Not Your Average Joe Coffee, an organization created to 'inspire our community by including students and adults with intellectual, developmental and physical disabilities," school staff wrote. 

"All participants in the assembly were students who signed up for the game(s) they played ahead of time. No Deer Creek faculty or staff participated in any of the games during this Clash of Classes assembly," a portion of the latter part of the statement read.

LANDMARK BILL TARGETS HIDDEN FOREIGN FUNDING IN SCHOOLS AS OFFICIALS WARN OF CCP INFLUENCE

Walters called the fundraiser "filth," and Cruz said it was "child abuse."

In another district on the Arkansas line, now-former Muldrow Superintendent Leon Ashlock resigned after driving drunk and crashing a school vehicle on Creek Turnpike. Two 100-proof bottles of cinnamon schnapps were found in its console, according to KOCO.

Walters told Fox News Digital on Wednesday that a case involving a school’s response to an athletic director’s criminal exploits with a student also drew his attention.

"Even in a conservative state like Oklahoma, where voters have overwhelmingly made clear they want the radical progressive policies of the left out of public schools, we continually see superintendents defying their will, ignoring their concerns, and refusing to take action necessary to improve education outcomes while protecting Oklahoma children," Walters said.

CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP

"This has to end."

"And, the best way to do that is by requiring superintendents to be elected by the voters."

Walters called the legislation a common-sense solution to efforts to improve education for Sooner State children.

Walters previously made headlines when he led his state in becoming the first to appropriate funding toward supplying a Bible to each school. The official said the move blunts "woke curricula" and provides students a "historical document" that the founders used to form their government.

• My teenage son got his driver's license.
• I refuse to track him because I know I'll just get even more anxious.
• I trust my son and want to give him the freedom he deserves.

My son just got his driver's license and loves his newfound freedom. Even though he's going to the same places he always has — school, lunch, and errands — he's much happier driving himself than having me do it.

His older brother was the same. It didn't matter to either of my boys where they were going. It mattered that they could get there on their own — without their parents.

When my oldest got his driver's license, I learned that some of his friends' parents installed apps so they could track their kids, but I refused to follow suit.

I understand why people track their kids

Most people track their children for one of two reasons: to ensure their safety or to ensure they're going where they said they were.

I understand both of those ideas. I'm a very anxious parent, and it doesn't take long for me to imagine all kinds of awful situations my children could find themselves in.

It is, frankly, terrifying for me to let them go anywhere at all. Letting them pilot a 4,000-pound hunk of metal down a busy freeway? If I think about it too long, I'll lock everyone inside the house with me forever.

But I'm certain a tracking app won't solve my problem.

Tracking has only made my anxiety worse

This generation of kids and teens has grown up in a much more monitored world than I did. My parents got two or three report cards a year from me, while I can check my kids' grades and get updates on their school behavior daily — sometimes hourly. I did that for a while. But I noticed that tracking them was affecting us all — not in a good way.

When I signed on to the apps and websites that monitored them, I began constantly checking for updates. A nice note from a teacher at 10 a.m. put me in a great mood. A negative update half an hour later sent me plummeting. I checked grades daily, interrogating kids about missing assignments or low scores.

Eventually, I had to back off, delete the apps from my phone, and work out a plan to check these sites less often with my kids. We were all much happier and less stressed after that. Surprisingly, behaviors and grades improved when the kids knew they weren't going to be cross-examined about every little thing.

I can see myself getting equally attached to a tracking app. I'd watch my phone when my teen is in the car. I won't relax until they've gotten to their destination. If they get stuck in traffic, I'll assume they're stopped because they've crashed. If they want to grab food while out, I'll wonder why they've deviated from our agreed-upon route. I will worry, and I will assume the worst-case scenario every time.

Weirdly, it's less stressful to send them off and tell them to call when they get there than to be able to monitor their every move in the car.

Giving kids some freedom is part of growing up

As for checking on where they're going, so far, my kids haven't given me any reason to think they're lying about things. It doesn't seem fair to start out by distrusting them.

Like building trust, teaching independence is something we start when our kids are small. We might let them walk ahead of us on the way to school, building up to letting them walk with friends and eventually alone. We start homework by sitting down with them to help and hopefully transitioning to them managing it independently.

I don't think there's a feeling quite like that freedom teens feel when they get their license. It's good for them. It's the next step in learning to be an adult. They don't need me hovering over their shoulder, watching their every move.

I'm not saying I have no idea where my children are when they're out driving. We discuss their plans. If my son is stopping for food after a school event, he texts to let me know. I call if he's driving across town to ensure he arrives safely. But that extra step feels like we're communicating and respecting each other, rather than me stealthily watching him on my phone.

It's not easy for me to watch these teens, who seemed like tiny babies just yesterday, get behind the wheel of a car. But it's one more way they're growing up; I'm trying to grow up and let go as well.

• My husband and I always thought we'd stay child-free.
• But recently, my mom told me she wanted to be a grandparent.
• Now, we've decided to have kids, and we're excited about our decision.

I'm 41, and until very recently, I thought I would remain child-free. I'm the oldest of four, but we've all held off on kids for various reasons. For my part, I've spent my adulthood chasing my dreams as a writer and performer in Los Angeles. After decades of trying not to get pregnant, I still have a lingering fear that I would be a teen mom, as one of my standup bits goes.

My parents live in rural Minnesota, where most of their peers have had grandkids for ages. During a visit home last September, my mom — unable to hold back her tears — told me how sad she was not to have grandkids, especially now that she's retired. "It's not what I thought it would look like," she said, her voice breaking.

My conversation with my mom made me start to rethink things

I was gutted by her confession. My parents, lifelong teachers and coaches, have centered their entire existence around family and kids. They deserve grandkids, if anyone does. Unfortunately, my brother who seems most likely to procreate at this point lives in Sweden with his wife, and they plan to stay there. Even if and when they do have children, they won't be living down the street or even a short plane ride away; a whole ocean will separate my parents from their grandkids.

Around the same time that my mom shared her yearning for grandkids, suddenly, it seemed like everyone I came up with in the LA creative scene — actors, writers, comedians — was pregnant or navigating new parenthood.

I went down the rabbit hole on a fellow writer's Instagram account. She'd been a single mom long before this baby boom, and I scrolled down through a decade of her daughter growing up in reverse. Even through the highlight reel of social media, it was clear there had been hard times, but also immense joy and fulfillment. I surprised myself with the thought, "I might want that someday."

Earlier that summer, my parents and I met in Phoenix for an extended family get-together. For years, it had felt like time stood still — that I was 30-something, and they were 50-something, and we would all remain frozen in time together forever. But on that trip, I felt that era coming to an end. We were having so much fun, but there was an invisible hourglass slowly emptying alongside us, whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not. My 40th birthday was just a few months away. Gray hairs were coming for us all, one strand at a time.

For the first time, I felt my fertility fleeting. Was I really going to forgo the chance to create a relationship as profound as the one I shared with them — a relationship that was now morphing into its next stage?

During another recent visit home, my parents cut out an article about the "Active Grandparent Hypothesis," a theory that suggests being active helped hunter-gatherers live long enough to care for their grandchildren, and left it on the dining room table. My dad gestured to it, "Hey, give this a read... Interesting article!" My parents are eternal realists, stoic with a dash of optimism. They're runners, walkers, and bikers, always exercising. Maybe evolution would keep them around long enough to spend time with the kids of their own late-blooming kids after all.

My husband and I started to seriously consider having kids

They were doing their research, and I was doing mine. I started Googling everything I could about pregnancy (geriatric, in my case), childbirth (daunting), and parenthood (manageable? fun, even?). I read lots of articles and began interviewing moms and other experts for my podcast. My husband and I had honest conversations about how we wanted our future to look. We waffled back and forth — sometimes having a kid seemed like the most obvious life-affirming choice, while other times, we couldn't imagine sacrificing our freedom to travel or the time to immerse ourselves in our work.

We'd both been ambivalent about having kids, at best. But that wrenching conversation with my mom, along with our Arizona trip, opened my mind to a possibility I hadn't seriously considered before. Soon after, my husband's brother and his wife went from adamantly child-free to pursuing fertility treatments, and my husband fell in love with the idea of our future kids being cousins. Now, we're planning to do an egg retrieval of our own. Our shared vision now looks quite different than it did 18 months ago, I'm starting to get excited about this change of plans.

My mom has said, "Don't have a kid for me." But the truth is, I sort of am — and I don't think that's a bad thing. I see how having kids can deepen one's relationship with their parents and the rest of their family, and I want that for all of us. And considering how my decisions affect the other people in my family? That makes me think I might be good at this motherhood thing after all.

• I have two children, and neither of them wants kids.
• I understand and respect their decision.
• However, I'm still coming to terms with the fact that I won't have grandchildren.

I will never be a grandmother.

I'm not being dramatic, this is just a fact. I'm 45 years old, and I have two children, ages 25 and 18. Neither child plans on having any kids of their own. In fact, the older one is so sure about not having kids that she scheduled herself for surgical sterilization.

I know many of their friends also have similar feelings about being a parent. And who can blame the younger generations for not wanting kids? With the climate crisis, divisive politics, and school shootings, I often wonder why anyone would want to bring a child into the world right now.

Birth rates are down, and I understand why

In the United States, the birth rate has been decreasing fairly consistently over the last decade and has recently reached a historic low. But it's not just here — the birth rate is down in Japan, France, Italy, South Korea, and many other places, too.

By 2030, it's projected that at least one in five US residents will be 65 or older. As US Census Bureau demographer Jonathan Vespa stated in a press release, that would be the first time in US history that older people would outnumber children. In light of those statistics, it seems many others may be joining me over here on the grandchildless side of the demographics.

I actually never gave much thought to the idea of being — or not being — a grandmother in the past. Though I wasn't pining away for my future grandchildren, it also always seemed like a given. The natural order of things, if you will. I thought I'd grow up, have kids, be a grandma, then die.

I thought it was simple, but it isn't.

My kids would be great parents, but I respect their choice to remain child-free

My kids are awesome; they are such cool people with unique outlooks on the world, and I think they both would have made amazing parents. However, I am 100% on board with their reasons for not wanting any offspring.

When they told me they may not want to have kids, it wasn't a shocking revelation. They've pretty much always said they didn't want to be parents. When they were younger, I assumed they would change their minds as they aged. And mostly, I didn't have any major feelings about it. As it became clear it was not a phase, that neither of them would be having kids in the future, I still didn't have strong feelings. I know they are making reasonable, logical conclusions.

My future looks different from how I thought it would

However, there are still times when I see the elderly version of myself hanging out on my front porch, yelling at a gaggle of grandchildren to get out of my flowerbeds. (Note: I don't have any flowerbeds, either.)

Each time I see that version of myself, I'm reminded that she will never be me. But It isn't grief exactly, more like a jarring type of confusion. My brain has to revise the list of things I thought I'd do: Grow up —check. Have kids — check. Be a grandma — nope.

It's like my brain is buffering, trying to compute the data. There's still part of me that thinks that checklist is the way it's "supposed to be." But my life won't turn out that way. A lot of our lives won't.

Maybe we'll all collectively mourn, or maybe all of us grandchildless old women will find that we actually like not having to spend our waning years entertaining toddlers again. Maybe we'll all handle it differently. Who knows? Just because it's a milestone we thought we'd reach when we were younger doesn't mean we can't reimagine what our lives can be.

Instead of grandparenting, perhaps, we will spend our 50s, 60s, and 70s traveling the world, learning to paint, or overthrowing the patriarchy. It sounds like we'll have a lot of free time on our hands to do whatever we want to do.

• Whenever we're with my mother-in-law, she asks my son and daughter-in-law when they'll have kids.
• While some part of me likes the idea of being a grandparent, I don't mind if it never happens.
• Ultimately, I know it's not up to me.

Without fail, every time we get together, my dear mother-in-law asks, "When are you having children?"

The question is not addressed to me. I have two sons, now in their early 20s. My younger son is married, and the query is always directed to him and his wife. My daughter-in-law and I exchange a look, and before she can answer, I pipe up with, "Not for a while, I hope."

My kids have time to figure it out

The truth is, when my wonderful son and lovely daughter-in-law got married three years ago, I asked them to pinky swear that they would not have children for 10 years. Of course, this is not my call to make, but as they tied the knot at 21, it certainly seemed like a prudent pact. They are young, have lives to live, careers to form, and trips to take. There's time.

I also swore I would not ask them about having children and have since kept that promise. Part of my hands-off approach is out of respect for my children and where they are in their own lives, adulting in their mid-20s, still figuring things out. But the other reason is a personal one that looms larger every day. Though I've heard being a grandmother is great, and friends who are living that reality are certainly happy, I've never dreamed of becoming a grandmother.

For years, my innermost thoughts and feelings about my children producing their own offspring have been conflicted. It's not out of concern that they wouldn't make good parents — they would. My internal struggles orbit around whether the world as it will be really needs more people. I'm not sure it's such a great idea.

My belief systems are no longer rooted in the religious or patriarchal notions of my youth and upbringing, which held that it's our duty to continue the species, to go forth and multiply. The reality is that there are already more of us than our blue marble can handle, and we're ensuring that the climate crisis will make living on it even more challenging, particularly for those with the least ability to cope.

I don't mind if they never have kids

Some part of me likes the idea of grandchildren, given how my own life has been enriched by having kids — something I want for my own children, if they want it. But I'm also kept up at night by larger worries about environmental challenges and adversities to come, which are concerns that go beyond the usual parental angst over a child's health and future career paths.

I tend to see the glass as half full rather than empty, but I worry about how my potential future grandchild will navigate the road ahead. In that, I'm sure I'm like every other parent, wishing for a crystal ball to allay anxieties and lost sleep over what cannot be foreseen or controlled.

At the end of the day, the choice will not be mine, it will rest with my children. No matter their decision, I won't be the one to pressure them one way or the other, and it will certainly not make me love them any less fiercely than I already do.

Whatever comes to pass, so be it. Right now, I'm OK if the line ends.