Here’s some backstory: I grew up poor—so poor that my “new” clothes were always hand-me-downs from cousins, already faded and falling apart by the time they reached me. My parents worked incredibly hard, but it was never enough, and as the oldest, I ended up raising my siblings. Babysitting, cooking, checking homework—you name it, I handled it.

I didn’t really get to have a childhood; I was basically “mom #2.”

That’s a huge part of why I decided early on that I never want kids. Ever. I’ve already lived through diapers, 2 a.m.

crying fits, and the constant “sorry, you can’t hang out with your friends—someone has to watch the baby.” I’ve been there. I hated every second of it. I’m done.

Fast forward to now: I’m in my mid-20s and living with my boyfriend. I love him—he’s kind, funny, and we click on so many levels. The problem is, he’s convinced I’ll eventually “change my mind” about having kids.

I’ve told him, very clearly, that I won’t. I don’t want to repeat the cycle of poverty, and honestly, I just want the chance to live for myself for once. We’re both working, and we’re barely covering our bills as it is.

A kid wouldn’t just strain us—it would break us, financially and mentally. Then one day he called, practically buzzing with excitement: “I have a big surprise, I adopted a puppy for you.”

I was stunned. His reasoning?

He wanted me to “see how caring for someone else could change my mind.”

I’m not anti-puppy by any means, but I’m definitely not okay with a living creature being used as an experiment to push me toward motherhood. And now I feel stuck. I love him, but moments like this make it feel like he’s not taking me seriously at all.