Being Child-Free By Choice: An Essay

During my twenties, I never thought much about having kids. It never really came up, until I turned 30 and suddenly I felt people were beginning to prod me, poke me —suddenly asking me questions about motherhood. It was mainly acquaintances at meetings or at parties: people making small talk. Turning to me as we tucked into our starter course: nice to meet you — so do you have kids? A harmless, polite question really, people looking for common ground, to create a bond, to share experiences. The topic felt like it was suddenly all around me suddenly: discussed on podcasts, at dinner parties and brought up by family friends, and I started to realise I would be existing outside of the conversation (by choice).

Whenever anyone asks me about my thoughts on having kids, I reply honestly: “actually, I’m probably not going to have them”. Some people’s reactions surprise me. I thought we were past this being a ‘taboo’ but from my experience people usually act surprised, intrigued, or say “are you sure?” A quick-fire reply I would often get is: “well, you might change your mind.” The other is: ‘Shame! I think you’d make a great mother.”

I’ve been directly asked: but why wouldn’t you want to experience the pure elation of being a parent? It was like people would act suspicious of me. People mean well, but it ends up making you doubt yourself, or worse, makes you worry that there’s something wrong with you.

There must be a reason. ‘Maybe you need therapy’ was another response I got. On one occasion someone dismissed me by saying “oh, I used to think that when I was your age. Now I have two beautiful kids! You just wait!” Why couldn’t people just accept that my response was a full answer? I mean it. I really don’t think I want to have them— and that is not a judgement on you, or them, or society — just a personal choice. Mostly I wanted to ask people at dinner parties the same reverse question: “why did you decide to have them?” I would also think to myself: “what if I can’t?” No one seems to wonder if the casual ‘are you going to have kids’ question could potentially upset someone.  As we all know it is sadly much more layered and nuanced than just deciding to snap your fingers and have a child on a specific calendar date.

I think people feel like it’s fair game to ask the motherhood question (and maybe it is!) because in many ways I am following the traditional trodden ‘path’ of what is expected. I am engaged to be married, I have a good job, I live in a nice flat and I’m planning the next ‘upgrade’ to a house with a little garden. I’ve been looking at potential houses recently, and it is also interesting to me that pretty much every estate agent shows you the ‘potential baby room’ while winking at us, when for me and Paul it’s probably just going to be an office, or another spare room. I’m moving forwards on the treadmill of life along with everyone else — just without the urge for a baby.

The topic had intrigued me so much that I decided to write a whole novel on it. Olive, my protagonist, splits up with her boyfriend of nine years because he suddenly wants to become a a parent, and she doesn’t. I want to reverse the stereotype and create a broody man, and a take-it-or-leave it woman. I interviewed over fifty child-free by choice women for the book, and talking to these women made me feel so connected, seen, happy. A sign I wasn’t alone.

Writing this book felt like a period of time when I didn’t feel alone. But before writing it, I had felt a bit alienated. It started creeping up on me. My friends started to speak excitedly at the thought of having children one day. I was excited for them — but there was suddenly an elephant in the room (for me) because I didn’t share the same future desires. I sort of pretended to want a family at first, but I knew deep down I didn’t.

I still care about being nurturing — for those I care about, helping others through my work, being a good friend and family member. When I chatted to other child-free women, many of the women said that they were sad to have lost friends, because their mum friends started to not invite them to the kids parties or picnics or general meet ups. They said their mum friends has assumed they wouldn’t enjoy it — “oh I thought you wouldn’t want to come, as it’s just a bunch of kids running around!”.  This felt baffling and upsetting to me – because even if you are child-free, it doesn’t mean you don’t like children, or caring for others. You still want to be around your friends and their kids. My fear is that one day soon perhaps I too will start to be left out.

I come from a pretty big family. I have three sisters, a brother, five nephews and a niece. I love being an auntie, and being surrounded by people I love (as long as I have some peace and quiet too at the end of the day – after all, I'm an introvert who writes books in her slippers at home). I think because my older siblings have had children, and my younger sister has voiced wanting a big family of her own, I never felt the pressure to be the one giving my parent’s grandchildren. That’s a thing for some people. The pressure of giving your parent’s social circle something to make small-talk about. My parents don’t put that pressure on me. In fact I get the impression they’re enjoying retirement and chilling out for once. They’re just happy that I’m happy. They are wonderful.

But some people don’t get it. People mean well, but such comments often exposes a deeply socialised stigma about childfree women and selfishness. People also place their own insecurities about regret on to my decision. “But won’t you regret it?” I’m often asked. One person I know, in particular, acts worried when I again tell her I don’t want kids. “But who will look after you when you’re old? Won’t you be incredibly lonely?” Perhaps she is worried she will be lonely when she’s older. I am not. I don’t know if I like the assumption that your children should look after you in old age anyway. To me, ironically, it seems weirdly selfish.

It’s not just a female issue either. My boyfriend is also on the receiving end of comments such as ‘oh but you’d make such a good dad!’ There is a general ‘disappointment’ when he also says he doesn’t want kids. He definitely would make a great dad, but the point is, we’re both on the same page that it’s probably not for us.

One of few accepted reasons for wanting to be child-free is caring about the environment and this seems to be the more social accepted response, but there are so many other reasons. For me, there’s no one singular reason why I don’t want to have children, it’s just something that hasn’t felt right for me and my path in life. I like my life the way it is. Freedom to travel at the last minute, to not be pinned down to any singular routine, to have more time for myself and others in general. I like taking spontaneous last minute staycations. I like my own company. I like sleeping. I enjoy working flexibly, which could mean writing in the middle of the night if I feel inspired. I like being available to go to the theatre on a random Tuesday afternoon if I want to. I don’t think that makes me selfish, just honest about how I’d like to live my life.

Olive, is out now.