Is the road to Heaven paved with diapers?

From birth, I grew up in a home that was heavily influenced by a nameless religion that holds church services in the homes of its congregation. 

Don’t write unless you are prepared to be honest. Because in telling your story, certain things have to come out that you perhaps hoped would remain buried in the past.

The scene opens in a regular living room. 

15 or so folding chairs are set up in a circle, along with a couch and an easy chair. In the middle of the room is a coffee table with a small dish of bread and a glass of grape juice. 

On the couch sits a woman in her late 20’s, with 3 children and maybe a baby in a car seat on the floor.

 She also has a large diaper bag filled with books and quiet toys and a container filled with dry Cheerios used to bribe the young kids to sit still. 

Each person in the room holds a bible and a hymn book.

Songs are sung, prayers are made and each person over the age of 5 takes a turn standing up to read a chosen passage from the bible, along with their personal thoughts.

Now it’s the young mother’s turn to speak. 

30 minutes into the service and the baby has been non-stop fussing.

 The 2-year-old spilled Cheerios everywhere and the 5-year-old twins have decided to take turns hitting themselves in the head with their mini bibles. 

Another woman sitting nearby graciously takes the wailing baby so the mother 

can struggle to get up off the couch.

 She adjusts her wrinkled, floor-length cotton skirt and tries to spit out her testimony in between a fit of tears.

A flurry of fistfights between her kids breaks out behind her. 

I’m 7 years old and watching this woman as she sobs about the “struggle to maintain a pure heart” while dealing with everyday life.

 Her husband is away, working to support the family. 

I think to myself

“Is this what my life is going to be like, as a woman?”   

Since I had to attend 3 church services a week, I witnessed this scenario at least once every 7 days. 

                                                                         Me at age 7

 I'm not a big believer in fate. I believe in the power of decision.

As a young girl, I may not have had the words to say exactly what I felt but I knew that I didn't want to become that woman with the 4 kids.

I removed myself from that religion, focusing solely on my music studies and a career.

When I did get into relationships, I made it perfectly clear that children were not an option. 


My immediate circle of trusted friends and family have always supported my choice. But everyday society does not. 


As I connect with more and more people who have chosen not to have kids, we discuss how isolating the experience is overall.  

I don't begrudge anyone for having children. 

What I do have an issue with is-certain people who feel that life is worthless unless you are a parent. 

But what I have come to learn is those people who are most insecure about their choice to raise kids, try the hardest to convince me I'm missing out. 

A lot of belittlement happens and it is not OK. I'm not trying to convince anyone that my choice is better. 

I am speaking out to hopefully help someone who is feeling suffocated by the avalanche of procreation pressure from society. 

More importantly, I'm living my life how I want to because being all talk and no action helps no one.

Have a lovely day, 


LeNora Faye
Bitchy Bookkeeper
Almost an Author
Former Fantastic Violinist

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