Does it feel like 'everyone else' is having children?
Here's what I know about that
A while ago, I put together a proposal for a book I wanted to write, with the rough title ‘I don’t have kids – and that’s OK,’ the idea being that I would interview women and men who expected to have children and didn’t, to find out how life is on what I call the ‘other side’.
I hoped that the book would help people who might be in the middle of the fertility headfuck, that period when all the people around you seem to be acquiring mortgages, cars and spouses and then having children - but it’s not happening for you.
I interviewed several women and showed the proposal to an agent who said she wanted more of my story in it, and I haven’t pursued it since. However, the book did become an article (for the Guardian - read it here) - and now I have more to say.
In my mid-30s, I had an acute sense of ‘everyone else-ism’. I wanted to go on double dates with other couples, to have the diamond engagement ring. I wanted the meringue dress, the church wedding, the marquee reception and the honeymoon pregnancy. I wanted to be part of that club.
Looking back, there are a few things I learned, which, if you are in the middle of everyone else-ism, I hope are helpful.
Find a ‘listening ear’
The sense of ‘everyone else-ism’ can feel very strong – and it can turn into frustration or resentment. If this is you, then I’d encourage you to allow yourself to feel like that, to let yourself wallow just a little. Swallowing your feelings or pretending everything is fine isn’t great – somehow those emotions will ‘leak’ out anyway, or resurface more strongly later.
Once you’ve had your shallow wallow, try not to let those feelings take over. It’s good to find a friend or someone in your family who has a ‘listening ear,’ someone who will listen to you and acknowledge your feelings without saying too much, or trying to ‘fix’ you by making suggestions or giving solutions.
Lots of people want to say helpful things, and they come with the best intentions, but sometimes you just need to vent, so a therapist or counsellor might also be helpful. Simply saying how you feel out loud to another human can help you process those feelings.
Be choosy about who you agree to dates with (on the apps, or elsewhere)
My solution to everyone else-ism – i.e. not having a suitable procreation partner - was to try to find one. That might sound sensible, but I didn’t have a clear sense of the kind of person I was looking for, and, frankly, my standards weren’t high enough.
I did plenty of oh-I’ll-just-go-for-a-coffee-just-in-case-he-turns-out-to-be-the-one-and-it’ll-be-over-in-an-hour-either-way-but-I-probably-won’t-fancy-him type dates, but looking back, I would have been more choosy about who I agreed to meet, and I would have viewed dating apps as just one way to meet people. (See my post about saying ‘no’ on dating apps for more about boundaries and trusting your gut.)
Consider that ‘everyone else’ might not be having a great time
There are all kinds of reasons people get married, and societal pressure can be one of them. An acquaintance told me how her friend’s sister recently called off her wedding because she finally acknowledged to herself that her husband to be had been gaslighting her.
Some of her family were supportive; others said she had let them down, or warned her that, at 37, this was her ‘only chance’ at marriage and children. It seems there are still people who want to be able to say ‘yes, my daughter is married’ more than they want that person to be happy, to have married the right person. While things might appear rosy for your friends, the reality might be quite different.
Try to be in the moment
This might be the most annoying thing you’ve ever read, but trying to appreciate what’s going on in the moment is really helpful. There is often no point in worrying about the future, thinking ‘what if,’ because there is very little in life you can have full control over. (But do, if you can, save up for a rainy day.)
The reason I say this is because panicking about the future can lead to what I call being a ‘desperate dater’ and that is not the real you - and can lead to poor partner decisions.
Consider that not having kids might actually be OK
At 35, if someone had told me I wouldn’t have children, I would probably have freaked out. But if they’d also added that, in my mid-40s, I would be OK, or that I might have a pretty darn good life, I might have felt better.
The truth is, some days I feel child-less, but most of the time I feel child-free, in part because I have seen how blimmin tough it is to have kids, via lots of people around me, but also because I’ve made a big effort to seek out new communities, nourish my interests (dancing! writing!) and invest in myself for the long term.
As for the book proposal - well, I may resurrect it, or take it in a different direction. Something along similar lines has just been published by writer Nicole Louie, called ‘Others like me: The lives of women without children,’ which ‘showcases the many ways in which people find fulfilment outside of parenthood,’ so I may need to find a new way in.
And as my younger neighbour says, ‘All of these rules and expectations are handed to you from a very young age. And if you can imagine life without those constraints, then what does that look like?’
Thank you for reading! Does any of this sound familiar to you? Let me know! And, here are some posts you might like.
