My Surprising Grief at Not Having Kids

I’ve always had a strong inner compass. And it had always pointed in the childfree direction. Then something changed.

My certainty of wanting to be childfree

The role of mother just didn’t appeal to me. Kids seemed to hold women back—from careers, from equality in their relationships, and from doing whatever the hell they wanted. 

My position didn’t waiver in my 20s while I was earning degrees in women’s studies and sociology. “The idea that all women are meant to be mothers is socially constructed,” I argued with anyone who dared to suggest that I might change my mind, “and I refuse to comply.” 

Eschewing the search for a husband with serial dating, parties, and work, I urged my friends to consider a life free from the constraints of marriage and babies.

In my 30s, I thought thank God that’s not me, as many of my friends got pregnant and started families. I cherished my freedom. Just thinking about parenting made me feel trapped.

When I met the love of my life at 35, I remained steadfast and clear. I don’t want kids, I announced to him early in the relationship. Ever.

Creeping regret at not having children

Somewhere around 40, my certainty waned. By then, I’d been living with my partner for a year and the feeling of wanting a child started to pop up. But I didn’t trust it. I’d spent so many years feeling so certain that I didn’t want kids. I couldn’t figure out why I was suddenly thinking about having one.

Was it because my career felt stalled? Was it my dwindling social life? With trepidation, I raised the matter with my partner. He said he didn’t want to have a child right then. I didn’t push. It seemed unfair to change the rules I’d set. We explored the topic briefly in counselling but couldn’t make a decision.

As the desire to have a child grew stronger, I considered leaving him. But when I did the math, I figured my reproductive years would be over by the time I found a new person willing to start a family. Plus, I loved him, and having a child wasn’t a burning desire, more like a nagging feeling that not having one would be something I’d regret.

Depression about not having a child

Gradually, a low-level depression crept in. I devoured articles on happiness, searching for answers as to whether having kids made a person happier. Activities that I’d always enjoyed started to feel routine and tinged with sadness. The cottage we’d rented for years felt empty in between guests. 

Thinking that we needed to switch things up, I rented a beach house and invited my brother's family to join us. I spent the week taking the kids to the beach and cooking up big family meals. 

The morning they left I dissolved into tears as I waved goodbye. Curled up in the bed my adorable niece had slept in, I sobbed for much of the day. I was stunned at the depth of my sadness: I could barely process the possibility that I’d made a terrible mistake in not having a family of my own.  

Grief at not having kids

It took another two years before I'd acknowledge this as grief. Everything clicked when I caught an interview with Jody Day on the radio. Promoting her self-published book Living the Life Unexpected, Day shared her experience of being childless by circumstance and the need to grieve the end of one’s fertility.

Ordering a copy, I found a list of 50 different ways that a woman might find herself childless without actively choosing it. Some resonated—like realizing too late that you want a family or being partnered with someone who wants children but who never feels it’s the right time for them. 

Day's work helped me understand how I might yearn for motherhood later in life and yet still be unwilling to take the plunge. I realized that whether I was childless by choice, chance or both didn't matter. I needed to grieve the end of my fertility so that I could move toward a place of full acceptance of my life without kids.

Grieving not having kids alone

Ideally, I wouldn’t have had to go through my grief alone. Right now, one in five women in the U.K. and U.S. are reaching their mid-40s without having children. That’s a lot of women who might benefit from support in their grief at not having kids. 

But these women need to speak up, and I know how hard that can be. Other than a few conversations with my partner and one of my closest friends, I barely said a word to anyone about my feelings. It felt socially risky to talk about grief at not having kids, especially given the hard stance I’d taken for so long about being childfree. A big part of me felt like I needed to just toughen up and live with the consequences. 

It’s tough for childless women to speak up about their grief

For many women, their stories are wrapped in so much shame and sadness that they feel too painful to tell. It may also be that some people aren’t ready to listen. While visiting some old high-school friends, I broached the topic. I shared the stats and raised the idea that many women feel sad about being childless by circumstance. 

“I’m not buying it,” one friend, a mother of three, responded. “If a woman really wants kids in this day and age, she’d have them.” She used her sister, who had two kids on her own through IVF when a suitable relationship failed to materialize by her early 30s, as an example. 

I don’t think she’s alone in her thinking. When people see a childless woman, they often assume it was by choice. This being the case, they feel she's not entitled to grieve. Yet for many of us, grief is just one part of a much more complicated story. 

If you’re one of the growing numbers of women without kids, maybe it’s time to tell yours.