When you hit 45, as I did a few days ago, a few things become more certain in your life. The first is that you will start looking eerily like one of your parents. I don’t know why this is, but it is true. You will catch sight of yourself in a department store mirror one day and your mother’s face will suddenly loom out from beneath your own like the Turin Shroud.
The second is that you won’t have children. Not unless you throw an enormous amount of time, patience and money at the issue. (Or of course if Mother Nature decides to sprinkle a bit of natural magic your way, which I have known to happen.) But really, if we’re being truthful amongst friends, which is exactly how I’ve come to see all of you by now, that’s sort of it. Door closed. Motherhood exit stage left.
Many of you here will know my own story of deciding not to have children. (If you don’t and are interested, you can read it here). But the long and short of it is this: we tried and it didn’t happen. And in between it not happening I started to question whether I was capable of being the sort of mother I wanted to be, as well as the sort of career woman I was on the path to becoming. In the end I decided I could not do both.
Deciding not to have children in your mid to late thirties, and even early forties, always feels like a sort of a cheat though. Because the truth is you can always change your mind. There is, as all those well-meaning mothers of friends tell you whilst squeezing your shoulder, still time. By 45 that time has pretty much passed.
And so I wanted to tell you what being childless looks and feels like when you have reached the other side. Deciding not to have children is one thing, but living a childless life as you hit middle age..well, that’s a whole different story.