It’s an exclusive club. Sometimes just as snobby as country clubs. You can’t be in it unless you pay the ultimate price – procreation.

And even if you are OK with your decision to not have children, you are shunned. You’re suddenly the talk of parties (which are more like play dates now, that you’re not invited to): “Do you think they’re trying?” “Do you think they’ll make good parents?” “What’s their deal?” “I can’t imagine not having a baby.”

The brunt of the pressure, I’ve found, is from new parents. Parents whose venture isn’t even a month old. Parents who were just in our group – our baby-less group. Those who could still go out for dinner at a moment’s notice. Those who drank beer, smoked cigarettes and stayed out late on weekends.

Everywhere you turn, there are those pushing babies. “You guys should have a baby!” That pressure is usually followed by some sort of complaint about their own children. “I miss sleep.” “I wish we could travel.”

So why all the baby talk? Don’t make me drink the Kool-Aid, people. All this pressure makes me want to become sterile.