I think the first time I noticed that motherhood just isn't for me was when I was around 18 years old. At that time, both my cousins just announced that they were pregnant. Don’t get me wrong - I was happy for them because they seemed to be. But more than that? No.
I still remember clearly how only one of my cousins first announced that she and her then-husband were expecting their first child. It was a family birthday get-together - I believe it was her own birthday. We were all there. Her parents, her sister plus her long-term boyfriend, my family and me, and my cousins' family, let us call her Emma, now ex-husband.
We already finished the, in our family traditional, birthday cake. Sitting around a table big enough for a family but too little to fit several families and partners. But we made it work. And then it happened. Emma would ask for some attention from the entire table, which wasn’t the standard. Our family is not the kind of family that would throw big words or even speeches at the table. So we all knew something big was going to be announced. “I am pregnant”. Those simple words came out of her mouth. And the collective joy around the table was enormous. Everybody couldn’t wait to get up from their places to come over, hug Emma, and congratulate her and her then-husband. And, of course, I joined that collective congratulations round - but rather slowly, as one of the last ones. I knew this was good news, and I was happy for her, but I couldn’t really connect to what I just heard and didn’t even know why. I felt almost guilty that I wasn’t as excited about what we all witnessed as the rest of the table. And I felt guilty and bad about it.
It wasn’t until years later that it dawned on me why I felt the way I did back then. Motherhood wasn’t for me. Surprisingly, it didn’t take me years to come to peace with this. It just happened.
Thank god we all live in the 21st century, at least technically - let’s not start the discussion that some people's mindset still functions as one of the early 20th century. In recent years, more and more women have come forward, sharing that they simply don’t see themselves becoming mothers or that they regret becoming one in the first place. A study from 2021 found that in the US, around 23% of all women between 18 and 49 years say that they are not likely to have any children. Still, in many parts of the world, there is no choice. You are a woman, so your sole purpose of existence is to bear and raise children. And what is accepted for men, not to be a father at all or (even worse) being a bad father, is almost out of reach for women. Not only do you have to be a mother, but you also have to be an outstanding and over-the-roof good one.
In times of social media and #motherlife, it became tremendously hard to avoid seeing those impeccable moms with perfect hair and makeup, no sleep deprivation, and their little ones matching the little bow in the hair with the flawless and spit stain-free little princess dress. Even me, who doesn’t see myself becoming responsible for someone else's survival, can't avoid being exposed to this kind of storytelling occasionally. The social media algorithm seems to be manufactured by persons with very conservative opinions about women and motherhood. What they don’t show me is the truth for most of us average women. Compared to the perfect mom we just discussed, how often did you encounter the story of a mom with child-bed depression? Or one that regrets motherhood at a later point in time? Not often, even though you should. Out of all people in the US, 17%, that is almost every 5th person, regrets having a child.
Years after Emma's first child and when her second child was already around 3, we were again at a family birthday. We were all there. Emma’s parents, her sister plus her long-term boyfriend and their two kids, my family and me, and the family of my cousin, now ex-husband. This time, it was not at the table. Emma’s daughter, let’s call her Frida, me, my mom, and my cousin's mother-in-law would sit on the couch as Frida and I just talked. I didn’t find anything special about this situation because I honestly just talked with Frida - she told me something that had happened in Kindergarten, and I asked questions. A conversation in the manner you would have with a friend of yours, telling you about their workday. Okay, she was three, and maybe her way of telling a story was a little all over the place, but let’s be honest: how many grown-ups do you know that have the same skills in telling a story as a three-year-old? So, nothing special, just a conversation with a human being. Until my cousin's mother-in-law said: ”Wow, you're doing this really well. But you also study teaching, don’t you?”. No, I didn’t. Actually, I was a little offended, but my mom seemed to be proud, so she said something that I can’t recall anymore. Anyway, that situation stuck with me because, in the coming months and even years, I suddenly felt like becoming a mom was a good idea.
Now, I am 32. My income allows me to live in a lovely apartment in a good neighborhood with a loving, long-term boyfriend and our cat. You might think I am in a good place to start a family. However, I’m still child-free and with no desire to change that. Around me, people start their own family. Each time they do, I feel no different than the 18-year-old me, sitting at the dining table that was big enough for 1 family but actually too small to host the extended family. I don’t think I will ever become a mom myself - other than the cat mom I already am. But who knows if that feeling won’t change again as it did back then on the couch talking to my cousin’s 3-year-old daughter. I have come to peace with still not knowing exactly if I want to start a family or not. I instead trust that whatever happens will be the right decision for me.
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