Is This Me, Childfree? Making Peace with an Identity After So Long

It’s strange—I was standing at the station yesterday thinking about life. Recently, a lot of friends have been getting pregnant and having babies, and they seem to be moving into a new stage of life that I’m not currently part of.

And then it made me think about how we spend a lot of our lives, even when we aren’t part of something, thinking that maybe one day we could be. You live with that sense of endless possibility.

When you are younger, at school, you have the whole world ahead of you. You could choose to become anything; there is excitement in the opportunity. As we get older and get settled in our careers, although we could change at any point, the longer we are in something, the more set it seems that this is our life path and that we have chosen our destination.

Similarly with families and children, I think I have spent most of my life thinking, “Well, maybe that’s something in my future.” But for some reason, yesterday I had a very stark realisation that soon I may be approaching an age where actually the options don’t exist, and maybe the life I am going to live is a childless one.

And that’s not to say I am devastated by that. There are so many aspects of my life—my freedoms—that I love and enjoy. But for some reason, I have never settled with the notion that yes, I am childfree and that is my identity.

I’m sorry if I am rambling; sometimes it can be hard to actually express and make sense of what you are feeling. But I’m not sure if that makes sense to anyone else. Actually settling into the identity of being childfree and embracing it, rather than living with the unknown of what may be. It is a strange time.

Maybe because it feels that to settle into that role, you know you are picking a certain direction in life, which may add space and distance between you and so many around you. And again, it’s strange because it’s not even that you picked this—it was kind of thrust upon you.

My diagnosis was at age 31, nearly seven years ago, and whilst I have spent my 30s childless (and making the most of the freedoms that brings), I suppose there was still, in the back of my mind, “What if?” I had not fully accepted or settled that I would always be childfree. And maybe I won’t—who knows what is around the corner.

But as I stood at the station yesterday, on a Saturday with the weekend ahead, it just made me reflect on maybe this is me, living free, and maybe I am okay with that.

It’s strange—I was standing at the station yesterday thinking about life. Recently, a lot of friends have been getting pregnant and having babies, and they seem to be moving into a new stage of life that I’m not currently part of.

And then it made me think about how we spend a lot of our lives, even when we aren’t part of something, thinking that maybe one day we could be. You live with that sense of endless possibility.

When you are younger, at school, you have the whole world ahead of you. You could choose to become anything; there is excitement in the opportunity. As we get older and get settled in our careers, although we could change at any point, the longer we are in something, the more set it seems that this is our life path and that we have chosen our destination.

Similarly with families and children, I think I have spent most of my life thinking, “Well, maybe that’s something in my future.” But for some reason, yesterday I had a very stark realisation that soon I may be approaching an age where actually the options don’t exist, and maybe the life I am going to live is a childless one.

And that’s not to say I am devastated by that. There are so many aspects of my life—my freedoms—that I love and enjoy. But for some reason, I have never settled with the notion that yes, I am childfree and that is my identity.

I’m sorry if I am rambling; sometimes it can be hard to actually express and make sense of what you are feeling. But I’m not sure if that makes sense to anyone else. Actually settling into the identity of being childfree and embracing it, rather than living with the unknown of what may be. It is a strange time.

Maybe because it feels that to settle into that role, you know you are picking a certain direction in life, which may add space and distance between you and so many around you. And again, it’s strange because it’s not even that you picked this—it was kind of thrust upon you.

My diagnosis was at age 31, nearly seven years ago, and whilst I have spent my 30s childless (and making the most of the freedoms that brings), I suppose there was still, in the back of my mind, “What if?” I had not fully accepted or settled that I would always be childfree. And maybe I won’t—who knows what is around the corner.

But as I stood at the station yesterday, on a Saturday with the weekend ahead, it just made me reflect on maybe this is me, living free, and maybe I am okay with that.