When I was in my mid-twenties at a house party, I remember being screamed at by a woman because I’d said I was feeling exhausted. “You don’t have kids,” she yelled, “you don’t even know what the word exhausted is.” In retrospect, I can be compassionate and say this woman was clearly overwhelmed by parenting, and possibly not feeling like she had enough support from her spouse. But I remember it being the start of realising there was a divisive line between people who had kids, and people who didn’t.
In my twenties and thirties, I remember a lot of this was made up of two things – first, being told often that whatever it was I was feeling or going through wasn’t as bad or important as someone else who had kids, and second, because I noticed how much it changed a lot of my friendships between myself and friends who did have children. It wasn’t just about not feeling free to talk about what was happening in my own life, but it was also about practicality – we just didn’t have time to see each other, or if we did, it was always on their terms – because their lives had changed in a way I couldn’t comprehend.
I’m in my forties and I’m child-free by choice now but it hasn’t always been such a clear line that I wouldn’t have kids. While I wasn’t seized with a sense of urgency to become a parent in my twenties, I assumed I would have them with my late husband who I met when I was 29. But we didn’t rush to have them, and then it was clear he had serious addiction issues which in good conscience we didn’t feel able to bring a child into. When he died, I considered being a solo parent – via a donor like one of my friends did, or adoption. But I made no move towards making it happen – and realised I was only considering having children because I felt it was some sort of societal box that needed to be ticked, versus the deep, primal drive to have them. I made a decision that being a parent was just not for me and the resulting feeling was relief.
The child-free community has grown a lot since then – which is a good thing because it is important to have people who reflect your own choices rather than being made to feel like a weirdo in your existing community, or somehow lacking because you don’t want children. But, conversely, looking at some of the child-free content on TikTok and Instagram, and seeing how it perpetuates this divide – I’m not sure all of it is healthy or great.
Some of it is meant to be funny – but bragging about how much money you have, or how much sleep you’re getting because you don’t have kids, feels like the kind of funny when men parody women getting ready for a date or mimic beauty tutorials. While those things may be true, and may be a clapback to people who tell them they’re selfish for not having kids, or that they will never know a love like it, it feels like punching down.
Feeling secure in my choice, and more importantly, not feeling as if it is a huge defining point for me, is essential to not feeling like there is a “them and us” situation between myself and people who are parents. Part of that for me, is working towards the closest approximation of what makes me feel fulfilled and seen – so that if someone does say a comment about me not having kids, I am secure enough in my life to know that comment doesn’t hurt me.
Part of that has been very intentionally making new friends with people who don’t have children – who I can go on holiday with and be spontaneous with. Another part is also life experience – by now I have seen the full gamut of parenting to know that it is complicated, there is love but it isn’t regret-free and it requires a constant evolution of the self.
But also – the most well-functioning society is comprised of people who are diverse in their choices, versus everyone being the same. Other child-free people like me are able to be auxiliary supports in the lives of our nieces and nephews in a way we might not have been had we had our own children.
I don’t feel guilty or apologetic any longer about having more sleep or time – instead, I know it allows me to support my parent friends and relatives in a way they may not have in their day to day. All of that is achieved by bridging the divide and understanding each other, not filling it in with the ways we each believe we’re superior.
