I’m 35, childless and (I must add) very happy and content with my lot. Up until now, it’s a been conscious decision to not have a child yet — I’ve not been ready, it’s been my choice to enjoy a life of freedom. But recently, as I see all around me on social media, are friends and family raising children, sharing wonderfully wholesome happy updates and announcing pregnancies, and all the while, a big fat grey question mark-shaped cloud hangs over my head. You could in fact say it’s several question marks.

• Will I ever be a mother?

• Will I ever be able to have my own children?

• If I do have kids will it be with the partner I’m with right now?

• And most importantly, do I actually want them enough to justify pursuing this potentially fruitless yet life-changing decision?

And the answer is... I don’t fucking know. It’s exasperating. How do you know if you really want something? What’s the point in wanting something if it might never happen? I hate being disappointed, after all I’m only human.

It hit me again this weekend, whilst watching Sarah Beeny create a dream life in the country, for her family and 4 boys. Gosh! What a wholesome idyllic existence they have?! And despite everything I have achieved myself, I couldn’t help but feel barren, and somewhat lacking in comparison. 

Me: *Googles*: “How old is Sarah Beeny?”

Google: Sarah Beeny is 48

Me: *Googles*: “How old are Sarah Beeny’s children...?”

Google: 10, 11, 13, & 15

Me: *does the mental arithmetic*. Fuck. She had her first kid at 33. Damn I feel old.

Do I want a kid? — according to this article, the estimated cost of having a child is £70,000 - £200k over the course of their lifetime... or do I want my dream rustic farm house in France? And could I really have both?! 

In the heat of the moment I take to my Instagram stories to share my Google revelation and the deluge of questions swimming around and around in my head. Surely there must be other women (and maybe men?) who feel like this?! I had to know. I couldn’t be the only one driving herself insane on a monthly basis. Wondering how many fertile and viable eggs she’s got left every time she gets her period again or spies another grey hair or newly established wrinkle. Joy.

And guess what?! The response was phenomenal, as more than 50 of you — women — and a few guys — from my little Instagram community, got in touch to share their thoughts, dreams, fears, deliberations and own uniquely personal experiences. Thank you so much if it was you that got in touch. It means an awful lot.

“I feel the same, the constant outside pressure from social media/life is EXHAUSTING. My thoughts range from “do we even want kids?” “are we missing out if we don’t have kids?” “but we like our life as it is…” “will we regret not having kids?” “But mum and dad really want a grandchild…”

Also, I can’t stand the idea that once friends/family have kids you’re excluded because you don’t have kids. Doesn’t happen with everyone, but just because we don’t have kids it doesn’t mean we don’t want to be around people with children. We’ve been going back and forth on it for years, but think we’re 80% sure we’re not going to have kids for a variety of reasons, and we’re happy with that decision, but every now and then think maybe we should.

We’re potentially going to move house next year, because we want more space and I just know it’s going to start up conversations with friends/family about having kids. I’ve also been sober for nearly six months and thank the lord for the pandemic because it’s very easy to make it look like you’re drinking on Zoom, so as not to face questions/assumptions around being pregnant. Exhausting! I feel you very much on this topic.” ~ Laura, 37, married, no kids (just a husband who behaves like one.)

Here are some more of the things you shared. For anonymity purposes I’ve removed any names, but it should give you an idea of the wealth and variation of responses, experiences and attitudes towards this topic. Turns out there is no perfect time. There never will be.

“I was 37 when I got pregnant with X and she arrived when I was38. But I know how you feel as I felt like this before she came along. Mainly worrying about fertility issues as there is so much in the media about it around ‘when you’re over 35, it’s practically all over for you.’

My sister is 36 and it’s playing on her mind a lot the last few years too. She is in a newish relationship after leaving one she was in for 9-years. But they are in different stages of life because there’s a big age gap… so he would not be ready for children anytime soon. it’s tough. It’s ok if you don’t want children, don’t feel pressured (hard I know, ppl constantly ask this question.)” ~ M, 38, in a relationship, one small baby daughter.

Life has a funny way of diverting us when we think we’re on one path and then suddenly we find we’ve been taken on another that we have no map or plans for.

You see, I invested a lot of my youth in relationships that came to nothing. I bet many of you reading this have that same recurring thought.

“ Brilliant topic- it’s a thought in many of our heads that’s hard to manage, being single and in lockdown the pressure and time limits that women wrestle with is tough! I feel like I’ve lost a year of that time and past few months I’ve had to wonder weather I am going to find someone to have children with and does that impact my choice in partner?!!! Then there’s the whole I have to mentally prepare for the fact it may not happen and do I want them now ? And the pressure and sadness that comes with this. Either way lockdown has intensified this a lot for me and I’ve had to focus hard on the heat and now and enjoyment of that whilst in the background preparing to enjoy life in the future without a partner or children. This stops me having the sheer panic and anything that comes along is a happy bonus. 😊 very relatable thank you xxx” ~ L, 35, currently single, no kids.

A friend of mine me messaged and reminded me that, as women, we have a remarkable talent for beating ourselves up about things that have happened in the past. The big “what if I’d done something differently...?” question. A question that threatens to distract us from everything we have achieved and accomplished in the here and now. Everything that we really should be putting energy and attention into celebrating and building on. 

“We women are also excellent at torturing ourselves about decisions we have made in the past. “Was I stupid to focus on my career and now I’m 35 and struggling to have a child? Do I deserve this”? “Would things be different it if never smoked/drank/partied/enjoyed myself? Do I deserve this?” “Should I have done X Y Z” or not done “XYZ” ?Should I be adopting or is this the worlds way of telling me I’m not fit to be a mum? Should I feel bad about not wanting kids? About not giving my parents grandchildren? Should I give my health eggs away or store them just in case? Is is ok to be an older mum/dad? We can be truly terrible to ourselves!” ~ BMR, 35, Married, no kids.

So what’s my ear worm...? The one thing hanging over me that I regret? Well...

I had a 7.5-year relationship from the age of 22-30. You could say, in some ways, it was successful. He put a ring on it. Unfortunately, that didn’t actually mean very much in the end. 

The result? Heartache and divorce for me and a new lover, new life and new country for him. If this sounds bitter, it’s because there’s part of me that still, that always will grieve those years lost. I cannot help it, as I think of this period as a 7.5-year blot — stealing away my most fertile years and a ridiculous amount of money wasted on a wedding that I should’ve sensibly put down as a deposit on my first home instead.

Maybe I could’ve been a mother during that window of my life? But you see, the timing was never right, the relationship wasn’t right. It wasn’t a priority for him, for us. In fact, this past 14 years it has never really been something I’ve taken the time to consider too much or actively pursue, again.

But there once was a time. A time when I came *this* close to being a mother. I accidentally fell pregnant at the tender age of 20, whilst on my university summer break. It’s something that only a handful of people close to me actually know about, even to this day (update: I’ve just this afternoon broke the news to my Nan, ahead of pressing publish on this.) Such was the shame of not being able to tell them about it for fear of being judged or persuaded to go ahead with the pregnancy. I’d been interrailing around Europe with my then boyfriend of 3-years, my high school sweetheart. I found out I was unexpectedly expecting as I was about to start my second year of university. I was mortified; the timing was terrible.

But I knew it was never meant to be. Not then. Not with him. Motherhood at 20? I opted out. We opted out. The boyfriend I had at the time was entering his third and final year of uni. And me, one of less than a handful of people from my own family who had fought hard to go to uni, I couldn’t bear the idea of breaking the news, and letting my family down by pulling out my degree. I thought I’d be destroying my chances of a good life and a good job — a career that would earn me a decent living.

I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing a baby into this world when I had no money. I didn’t want to be a leech. I’d seen others do it. Go through hardship. Claim benefits. Struggle for money. Rely too heavily on their families. My pride wouldn’t let me do it. I would not raise a child poor. I had an abortion at 6-weeks — during the initial scan I was told the pregnancy looked like it may not have been viable anyway, but I’ll never know. I celebrated my 21st birthday with family, all the while trying to hide the ugly bruises on my arms from the blood tests that threatened to give me away at any moment. When asked, I told them I’d trapped my arm in the car door. I don’t know if they truly believed me, but no one said anything more. I didn’t regret my decision to have an abortion, I still have no regrets about it. It was the right thing for me to do. Everyone is different, but I am pro choice and always will be.

My irrational thought now: If I don’t ever conceive, am I being punished for having an abortion earlier in life?

Flash forward to 2020. It’s been a lifetime and several relationships later. I’m now looking at my life, at the point I’m at right now. My career, my relationship, my dreams and — more so my age — are suddenly all in very sharp focus. What do I want next?

And you know what? It turns out I’m not alone in my crazy over-anxious thinking right now. Fellow thirty something and even forty something women across the world are all going through this crisis of conscience. Can I have children? Do I want children? How do I find out?

I have a few friends who have tried to have children later in life. There are those for whom it’s happened very quickly — almost quicker than they thought! And there’s the other side of the coin, who have struggled to conceive at all. With some taking years to get any sort of result, and others who are still enduring a ridiculous amount pain and heartache on their quest to become parents. The sad thing is, these are often the ones who would make the best parents — the ones who want it the most. Sending all of the love to you, if this is your current reality. 

“It took us over a year hun & I ended up having to use a fertility drug in the end. Luckily it worked practically straight away but it was still a year of stress/upset *trying* ...like you say some people just miraculously get pregnant. I wouldn’t worry about it too much tho, ppl are a lot older these days, it’s not like when our parents were young ... you were considered on the shelf back then if you’d not had kids by 21 😂.” ~ S, 35, married with a child.

When chatting intimately with an old colleague, who herself had experienced the loss of a baby at just a few months into the pregnancy when she got an infection. She recommended that all women, wanting to conceive after mid thirties, should go for a fertility test, just to check what their egg reserves are like. And I mean, if a woman needs to get tested, then surely the man should do too? After all, it takes two to produce a sprog.

There are some of you who have taken the incredible sensible but costly option (a precious investment of £6k, I believe) of freezing your eggs right now, to ensure you still have the option when the time is right. This is something my mum has mentioned to me before, but I’ve never really looked into it.

“I thought I would never have any as I was in my 30s and single. My GP told me I would be classed as an aged mother (I was 30 and had just split from my partner) that GP made me feel it would never happen and that was it!! Fast forward four years and I was pregnant. I had no issues with the pregnancy and my baby was healthy and amazing. I still didn't feel I was emotionally ready for a child.. I am 43 now and have a 9 year old and still not emotionally ready.. 😂😂.. It was quite a traumatic time being single and 30. I think my GP made me feel like I would never have kids and die alone.. Even if that wasn't his intention.”~ Clairie, 43, has a 9-year old child.

Right now, I’m in a stable, loving relationship, but even so the idea of talking seriously about starting a family with my partner terrified the shit out of me. I worried that I’ll scare him off. That he wouldn’t want it as much as I do. My fear? That he’ll leave me for a younger, less broody model who has years and years of fertility left and isn’t hounded by her body clock. I know it’s irrational, but I can’t help it. No one ever asks a man “can you have children?” and it’s rare that they get the “when are you going to have kids?” question either. The pressure feels unequal and is often solely weighted on the women’s shoulders.

“I truly get it. I often wondered if I’d get married again, now it feels inevitable. And I am happy now with that, You don’t notice when it happens; it just does you know? I think there’ll be less of a stigma around not having kids these days. For me, I wasn’t sure until this past year and the home my girlfriend and I are moving into. That discussion too has involved adoption, etc. Fundamentally, don’t let your past hold you back from your future. Ever.” ~ A, divorced male, in a relationship, no kids.

I know that my insecurities are a result of my life experiences. Baggage that I carry that makes me me, but also weighs me down. I wonder who I would be without having gone through all that I have. I wonder what it would be like to be completely carefree. Free of anxiety, insecurity or jealousy. But I can’t change what I’ve been through, I just have to keep my head up, my heart open and learn from my experiences.

But you know what? I took the time to speak to my partner about it again last night, to open up and share my current thoughts. And I was taken aback by how much I had underestimated him. He does know how much it means to me, to have this will ‘we/won’t we - ‘do we/don’t we’ conversation about family, and he’s willing to give it our best shot. Our thinking: if it happens, it happens, if it doesn’t it doesn’t. Let’s try and see... But either way, kids or no kids, we’re still a family anyway — just the two of us.

Further reading & listening:

• Blog | Seetal Savla - read more about their fertility journey: ‘Me, Myself & IVF’.

• Podcast | Kate Lawler - Maybe Baby

• Podcast | The Parent Hood and the episode ‘what it’s like to freeze your eggs’

There are a huge array of other parenting podcasts available on Spotify. Do you have a favourite that discusses important topics? Please share in the comments.

• Campaign | Bodyform Womb Stories ~ The unseen, unspoken, unknown stories of our periods, vulvas and wombs - our #wombstories - are so much more complex and profound.

• Book | Olive by Emma Gannon charts the course of adulthood, milestone decisions and the ‘taboo’ about choosing not to have children.”

• NHS ~ Infertility resources

• NHS ~ Endometriosis resources

Nutrition & Fertility Instagram accounts to check out:

• Baby & Child Nutritionist ~ @sr_nutrition — she’s recently shared a ‘top fertility foods’ post.

• Dietician helping men and women improve fertility ~@fertility.dietician.uk

• women’s health specialist ~ @thebumpandbabyhideoutsale

Thank you for taking the time to read this lengthy and personal post. If you found it helpful or insightful in anyway, please let me know by sharing with friends who might need to hear all this or by leaving a comment.

Follow me on Instagram @LucieLoves or Twitter @LucieKerley