Feeling left out of the mum club

Why I've chosen a child-free life

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Subscribe for free to enjoy occasional posts from me. Or, better yet, join our slow community of kindred spirits to unlock ALL my content, including exclusive writing, videos and resources, to help you live the life you REALLY crave. We’d love you to join us for a cuppa…

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Note - I was going to keep this post for my members, as it feels more vulnerable, but thought it was important to share my experience as I’m sure I’m not alone in my views.

Also, I am writing about my decision not to have children, which is of course completely different to women that can’t have children. I can only talk from my experience so please do bear that in mind and avoid reading if you would find this triggering at all. I want this to remain a safe space for my lovely readers.

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I thought this would be the moment. I held my breath as my friend lowered her new-born baby into my arms.

Time seemed to freeze as we locked eyes. She was lovely. I felt my heart swell with love for her that would last a lifetime. But that was it. Nothing else changed. No new surge of feelings overtook me.

I let my shoulders drop in relief and allowed myself to enjoy cuddling this precious baby girl. All the time knowing with certainty that I would never have one of my own.

For years, people would say that things would change. With patronising smiles, they’d say that my maternal instincts would start to kick in at some point. It appeared inevitable.

Yet, at the age of 31, I’m still waiting.

I’ve never wanted children. Even when I was a child myself, when I imagined my future, children were never part of it. I preferred playing with my barbies, imagining their grown up lives gave me a thrill that pretending to feed a baby doll just didn’t.

When I reached adulthood, I did consider what my life would look like with children. Part of me craved that feeling of being a mother. Of building my own family. It seemed like the ultimate adult achievement.

Its not that I don’t have maternal instincts, its just that I seemed to have directed this to animals instead of humans. I care deeply about my loved ones, enjoying looking after them and can feel overwhelmed with empathy when they are suffering.

I know I would be an amazing mother. I just don’t want to be one.

In 2020, research revealed that record numbers of women were reaching the age of 30 child-free in England and Wales, with 50% of women being child-free compared to just 18% in 1971.

When I looked for an explanation for this statistic, I found the same reasons coming up again and again.

One of the crucial reasons is that women have more choices now than ever before. We are able to carve different paths for ourselves and seek out alternative forms of fulfilment.

Many women enjoy their lifestyles and simply don’t want this to change.

Economic, political and environmental concerns also play a big factor, especially with the current climate crisis and unrest resulting from covid.

I relate to all of these reasons. In addition, I have found a partner who also doesn’t want any more children. This was the last factor that solidified my decision.

I am more than happy with this decision and feel fulfilled with the life that I have carved out for myself.

But its not always that easy.

Although I am immensely lucky that the people in my own life have shown nothing but support and kindness for my decision, deep down, I still feel judged by society and that I am valued less without children.

I feel the urge to compensate. If I don’t have children, then I should have a high-flying career instead and spend my time living the hustle culture. It doesn’t feel acceptable to just want to enjoy a slow life without making a sacrifice somewhere.

Now I’m in my 30’s, and everyone around me seems to be having children, I’m facing a new issue. One that I feel ashamed to admit.

I feel left out.

How can my life live up to such a big milestone? Although I’m genuinely proud of my achievements, they can feel inconsequential when my friends are creating entire new humans.

I also envy that easy bond between mothers. Its an understanding that I can never quite relate to. Whether that’s watching a group of mums in a café, overhearing a conversation about school runs at the gym or even reading comments online, the tight bond between these women is evident.

It makes me sad that I will never be part of this. That I’ll never quite fit in.

My two closest friends have had babies over the last year.

Both have always wanted to be mothers and I couldn’t be more thrilled for them.

But I was worried. Would this mean that our relationship would change? How was I supposed to act around the children? What if I dropped them? Or made them cry?

Would I no longer be enough?

Its a credit to my wonderful friends that these concerns, although completely understandable, were unfounded.

Yes, the dynamic has changed slightly. Making plans can be trickier. Conversations have shifted to include things like nappy rash and teething. But it has been a complete privilege to watch my friends grow into their new role. I’m awe-struck by their achievements and couldn’t be prouder.

And the best bit? I’ve got two tiny new humans in my life who I love with all my heart.

I carefully handed my friend back her new-born baby, finished my mug of peppermint tea and gave them both a big hug, before getting back in my car to return home to my wonderful partner and our own beloved fluffy baby.

It may not be everyone’s choice, and its far from perfect, but I love my life.

And that is more than enough.

Thank you for reading.

Until next time,

Molly xx