confessions of a childless woman

“It’s a great thing that so many women are talking about not having children. It’s usually a quiet conversation.” - Danusia Trevino, summer of ‘24

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**The audio recording of this Morton Train is available to paid subscribers here.**

A certain politician, during this election cycle, has been quoted repeatedly about his disdain for childless women. He seems rather obsessed with them actually, clearly having pondered the souls and yearnings of childless women for years. According to him, they have no core values and no meaning in their lives, nor do they have any care for future generations. Childless women are sad, unfulfilled, and pathetic. He’s even gone so far as to call them sociopaths.

Well. I hate to break it to ya, folks: I am one of them. That’s right. You are reading the blog of an actual, real life, childless woman. (Who, needless to say, in no way fits the description above.)

A few years ago, this cartoon drawing called “The Adventures of Lady No-Kids” by Will McPhail went viral. I adore it because, in a society that shames, discounts, and feels sorry for childless women, this character dares to be smug about her freedom. (I mean, she’s not even wearing pants.)

My dear elder friend Elizabeth Wilson would say as a common refrain that she was “too selfish” to have kids. She had even refused marriage because she wanted no caregiving responsibilities whatsoever. As a woman born in 1921, the expectation for her to be a dutiful wife and mother was enormous. Instead, she blazed her own trail as an ambitious, single woman. When sharing stories of her child-free young adulthood with me, I would emphatically say, “You weren’t selfish. You were courageous.”

Ironically, as an octogenarian, she declared me to be the daughter she never had, relishing in my nickname for her: “Mama Liz.” We became chosen family. I’d say the main reason our life-altering friendship was able to flourish as it did was because I, as a 20-something and 30-something, didn’t have children. Because she and I had time for one another.

The truth is that I always assumed I’d be a mom. I like kids and they like me, too. On more than one occasion in my adult life, during a time of play and conversation, a child has asked me quite genuinely, “Are you a kid?” Despite my 67 inches of height, they saw me as a peer. I took it as a compliment.

So knowing I’m good with kids of all ages, and having had a solid babysitting career that began at age 12, and living in a society that pushes the notion of parenthood as a given for a fulfilling & complete life, I assumed it was gonna happen.

But it didn’t.

I got to my mid-30s and thought, “Okay. If I’m gonna have a baby, I need to figure out how. Artificial insemination? Adoption? Sharing parenthood with a gay man bestie?” Those seemed to be the options available for a single lesbian artist living in a Manhattan sublet. And then there was the reality that, in order to afford the costs associated with having a child, I’d have to leave New York and move in with my parents for a few years.

So just as the ol’ biological clock started ticking, I sat myself down and really thought it through, this would-be plan. I even made a list of baby names.

Here’s what came as a surprise: When I imagined actually becoming a mother, my body (intuition) was quite uncomfortable with the idea. Rather than sweet daydreams about a cooing infant, my system seemed to recoil. Baffled by this, I got quiet and turned inward. The words that came from the still, small voice within (the voice that is the most loving and the most honest) were, “It would slam the brakes on your life when you long to accelerate.”

In that moment, I felt a wave of relief, knowing this truth had set me free. I gave myself permission to not have kids. And I, for the first time, realized that I did not actually want to have kids. I even let myself get excited about being, yes, a childless woman.

Of course, that was my own Guidance talking. Nobody else’s. I know for a fact that my brother’s life, for example, accelerated joyfully when he became a dad. Fatherhood is an essential part of his self-expression, an essential part of his very being. And my friends with kids.. their worlds/ selves expanded in incredible ways upon becoming parents.

Motherhood simply isn’t a part of my path. I say that without regret and without apology. And I count myself as lucky to have had this clarity when I did. A good percentage of young women out there don’t realize that not having kids is an option for them. (How can it be an option when the first thing we’re handed as little girls is a baby doll?)

I saw an interview once with the writer Elizabeth Gilbert where she was asked what she thought about women having kids. She explained that, in her mind, women fall into three buckets in terms of desire and belonging. 1) Being mothers. 2) Being aunties. 3) Having nothing to do with kids. She said, “If you end up in a bucket you don’t want to be in, it’s hard for everyone.”

Well I am 100% in the auntie bucket. There are ten children in this world who refer to me as “Aunt” and I’m only biologically related to two of them. I also have a forever bond with two kids (now in their 20s) whom I nannied for when they were little. It brings me such delight to be a special person in all their lives and for them to be special people in my life, too. Love abounds.

And speaking of love, where does that love in us childless women go? When we don’t have our own kids to cuddle and care for? Well, it goes lots of places… into our adventures, our activism, our plants, our animals, our partners, our vocations, our avocations, our creativity, our collaborations, our communities, our solitude, our friendships, our bio families, and our chosen families. Childless or not, there are many, many ways to love this populated world.

To that certain politician who speaks ill of us childless women, I’ll say this: Humans are unique and complex. If you don’t understand that fundamental truth, if you have no curiosity about the magnificence of individuality, if you cannot comprehend that there are myriad expressions of tenderness, you are really missing out.

(Also, if you as a dad really care about future generations, maybe don’t be a right-wing venture capitalist.)

lady no-kids | photo by Barbara Dana