If I don't have kids, will I regret it?

...the question dominating millenial girlies'group chats everywhere

Is anyone else drowning in baby quicksand?

Maybe it’s the upcoming 33rd birthday, or the assault of egg freezing ads overtaking my TikTok, or the fact that, according to Instagram, people I thought would struggle to open a bank account have somehow managed to become parents. 

Whatever it is, it’s spreading. The question of ‘what next’ is the topic of conversation dominating most voice notes I’m sending and receiving these days. And what next, for us, basically translates as, do I have a baby or not? Or, maybe more specifically, do I rearrange my life so that, if I were to have a baby in the next two years I wouldn’t be completely fucked…

In many cases, I can tell that, at this moment in time, my friends don’t have a yearning for kids. But they expect that, at some point, said baby cravings will kick in and what if by that time their eggs are limp and useless, and/or they dumped the boring guy who didn’t make them overly happy but would have probably been a good dad?

All of this seems to be driven by the same anxiety: What if I don’t have kids, and end up regretting it? It strikes me as an odd rationale to base a decision on. Let alone perhaps the most important one you’ll ever make.

Nevertheless, it’s a thing. I’ve spent more than a few sleepless nights consumed with panic about a childless life in which I spend my 50s and 60s as a bystander in other people’s families, occupying the fold-up chair at a neighbour’s Christmas dinner table. Maybe that’s extreme. Basically, I’ve always been convinced that if I don't do it, I’ll be plagued by a gaping emotional wound that can never truly heal. 

The thing is, my life experience up until now, along with the little science I know about how we process information, would suggest that this isn’t really how it works. 

The human brain has a remarkable ability to adapt to the situation it’s in, without giving too much credence to past events that don’t impact you in everyday life. The organ is simply not big enough to manage it. 

Despite this, the fear of regret weighs heavy. It’s what keeps women trapped in crap relationships and jobs they hate for the sake of some amorphous dream that requires a steady income and perhaps a man who is nothing else but in the right place at the right time.

In the last few weeks I’ve been thinking, maybe it would help to speak to childfree women in later life and ask the question: Do you regret it?

A moment for some science: I couldn’t find an awful lot on childfree women in the published literature (shock), but I did come across one enlightening study from last year by researchers at Michigan State University.

The team examined interviews with 1000 adults with an average age of 50, of which about 200 were child-free. The main finding was as follows; ‘we found no evidence that older, child-free adults experience any more life regret than older parents.’

‘In this study, we compared how much adults age 70 and older said they’d want to change something about their life - in other words, whether they had any regrets about how their life had gone,’ Jennifer Watling Neal, a professor of psychology at Michigan State University and author of the study told PsyPost. 

‘We didn’t see any difference between childfree people and parents. This suggests that childfree people are similar to others in terms of life satisfaction and often don’t regret their decision later.’

Also interesting is British research based on 60,000 interviews that shows having children doesn’t, in general, do much for your overall happiness levels. Studies by experts at the London School of Economics found a significant dip in self-reported contentedness in the four years after childbirth for both men and women (although it’s more pronounced in women). 

But there’s an important caveat: the study also showed that women show above-average happiness in the years leading up to childbirth, so it could be that donating their disposable income to a gormless poop machine brings them back to an even keel.

Also interesting is research looking at the long-term mental health outcomes for women who undergo IVF. A 2015 Swedish study published in the British Medical Journal looked at the incidence of anxiety and depression in women who’d undergone IVF 20 years after fertility treatment. They found a slight increased risk of depression and anxiety in those who never had children, compared to those who did. 

Still, there’s crucial detail in the data. Among the women who had children, 56 percent scored very low on a scale measuring symptoms of depression. In those who didn’t, the figure was 18 percent. However, when comparing the proportion of women who displayed symptoms of severe depression, there’s not much difference: 37.5 percent compared to 40 percent. Also, the study didn’t take into account anything else that was going on in these womens’ lives that might impact their mental health.

Other research has suggested that a driving factor of childless-related misery is whether or not you shake the desire for kids. A 2014 study of Dutch women found that those who had one child and are struggling to have another have worse mental health than childfree women who have made peace with it.

‘Our study improves our understanding of why childless people have poorer adjustment,’ the study author, Dr Sofia Gameiro, an academic from Cardiff University, said. 'It shows that it is more strongly associated with their inability to let go of their desire to have children.’

The vast majority of other studies I found noted that, in the main, women who can’t have children for medical reasons live well-adjusted, happy lives.

But enough of me. Last week I had a hunt around for childfree women in their 60s who could share their experience - and I found two. Here’s what they think…

JANE, 62, JOURNALIST, SINGLE

I always thought I’d have kids when I was very young, but then when I got to the time in my life when I would settle down and do it, I was having a great time dating and getting a lot of nourishment from my career - it just wasn’t right. 

There was one point, in my forties, when I did really want children. All my friends were doing it and I had a burst of maternal energy. I was worried about being left behind. So, I explored it by volunteering to look after foster children and, honestly, it was enough to make me realise I didn’t want motherhood enough. The time I spent there scratched that itch, and then I was able to move on.

Plus, I saw the toll parenthood took on all my friends. You see the exhaustion, the whipping ball behaviour, the weathering of strong marriages; lots of couples I knew separated in the year or two after they had children. A friend of mine is 51 and she has a three year old…she’s on her knees! 

It’s almost as if the biological clock ticks very loudly in the few years when everyone else is having babies, but then it just stops.

Now, I have a great life. I feel very lucky to have had a fabulous career, with wonderful friends and a lot of lovers along the way. In my 50s I had a fling with a 27 year-old who lived down the road - and I still get hit on by guys all the time. I think I’m like Carrie Bradshaw in that I’m missing that bride gene; I don’t really want someone around all the time to bear witness to every aspect of my life.

I think people don’t realise it is possible to fulfil maternal instincts in lots of ways that don’t involve actually having your own kids. There are loads of children in my life; I have multiple godchildren and I’m very close to all of them. My 17 year-old goddaughter recently came to live with me for a couple of months, and she texts me most days to ask what I think about pretty much every aspect of her life. She’s not close to her mum so I think she appreciates the support. I feel very lucky to have that intimate relationship with her. 

I guess I am lucky with my predisposition; I give off an energy of fun and joyfulness. I think people can tell I enjoy my life and so maybe they’re drawn to me. I’ve never, ever had to work to attract friends or make sure I am surrounded by amazing people. I suppose you do have to keep refreshing your social life as people pair off and have families, but there’s always someone about to hang out with. 

Years ago I interviewed Kylie Minogue and her words on this sort of thing have always stayed with me. She said she’s always been perplexed by the prevailing narrative about her love life; that she’s ‘unlucky in love’ because she’s never got married, and didn’t settle down until later in life.

Her response was: ‘I’m like, excuse me, I’ve dated Michael Hutchence [very fit 90s singer]. I’ve had a great time.’ 

SANDRA*, 60s, WORKS IN I.T, SINGLE

I both regret and don’t regret not having children. 

When I was alone or struggling with work, I’d think about how having children might have been a buffer to absolve me from having to focus on my job. I’d envy my friends who had children in a supportive marriage setup and whose children kept them busy at weekends. 

They had other mother friends through their children and I envied this shared experience. I was also very conscious however, of being able to go where I wanted, when I wanted and with whoever. And ultimately, at the time in my life when I could have had children, I knew I was not ready or emotionally mature enough to have children. I also had a real fear of perpetuating the mistakes of my own family. Most of the 60 year olds I know have fantastic lives, whether child free or childless.

 The assumption was always that I would have children. I often babysat for my parents’ friends’ children and did work experience at a nursery in secondary school.  There were few real opportunities for work experience anyway and I think all girls were expected to do theirs at the childcare/nursery anyway. I think I always wanted them in an abstract way, never really thinking about what it would entail.

In my mid 20s I was with an older partner who was wrong for me and quite aloof.  My career wasn’t going anywhere and I remember saying to him, ‘I might as well have children if I can’t get on the career ladder.’ I can distinctly remember the look of horror on his face at this and we not much later, broke up.  

For the next 10 years I did not actively seek a partner or think about having children, though I was getting (and being made) increasingly aware of the clock ticking when both siblings settled down and had 6 children between them. But still there was no right time or urgent need to have them.  

Then at 36 I had breast cancer and as part of my treatment, was offered egg preservation. I was only ‘allowed’ one round of harvesting, due to the risks.  There was a sense of relief when the process failed, I was unable to undergo another round and I began chemotherapy. There was a sense that it had been taken out of my hands in some way.

I have enjoyed so many opportunities in my life without children! I have spent a long time working on myself, studied postgraduate courses and have established a career. If I’d have had children I would have subjugated my needs to theirs, and prioritised them over work or friends. 

Living in London, I have been able to avail myself of all that the big city has to offer, taking myself to the theatre/cinema/concerts/dinner/clubs whenever I wanted to without having to worry about babysitters or even the need to get home before 3am.  

I travel when I want and am very grateful I did not have to experience that afternoon dread when the kids are back from school, the door is closed and you’re all in the house for the night, before it starts all over again next morning.  I felt a real claustrophobia and impending doom if I found myself in a suburban area around 3.30 in the afternoon. 

I was lucky enough to have a number of friends who would invite me on holiday with them and their family, which has meant I enjoyed numerous free holidays in villas overseas, although I am aware that it was often in the capacity of an extra pair of hands, an extra adult, babysitter or ‘outsider’ around whom the kids would have to behave.  

I am financially stable on my own terms and this allows me to be generous in contributing to school trips and university accommodation or postgrad study.  I doubt I would have this had I had children of my own.  

As for the downsides: I envy my friends’ ease with their children now, how shopping trips and holidays come with ready-made companions.

While no one has ever said out loud, sometimes if I’m with a group of dance or school mums, there will be a frisson of not being ‘one of them’. It’s not something I can pinpoint explicitly but with some who are not close friends there’s either a sense of pity or resentment.

Ironically, as I am the only one who didn’t have children, I am now expected to take sole care of my elderly mother. I spend most of my time working from her home, as well as acting as her unofficial full-time carer.  I resent my siblings for having a built-in excuse (children) as to why they are unable to help.

I’d tell women in their 30s to spend a lot of time thinking about whether or not they truly want to have children. Do as much as possible while you’re still young to establish strong financial foundations.  This way you’ll have choices when, if at all, you have offspring.

I believe children act as a buffer against loneliness later in life, especially the much later life stage.  On the whole, I think we are not yet set up, as a society, to accept women without children. The notion of ‘having it all’ has now been debunked.  The issue for me is that we are still living in a society and working structure which is primarily set up for, and benefits, unencumbered males. 

I do worry about who will look after me in my old age, which of my nieces or nephews would be willing to sacrifice their working life for me.  I find the idea that many people have children so that someone will be available to look after them in their old age abhorrent, but at the same time it allows the burden, in theory, to be borne by many instead of just one.  

It’s worth saying my opinions are based on being single and childless. I have friends who are couples who have decided, for whatever reasons, not to have children, whose opinions will very likely differ hugely from mine.