Choosing to Be Childless

Kids Are Great, but Toys Aren't Us

Childless? I wish there were a better word…

Okay, then: I’m a childless, thirty-five-year-old woman in a happy, committed relationship. I’ve had years of practice taking care of children; each of my four older siblings has precisely 2 kids. Let’s see: childless, female, 35. My biological clock ought to be waking me up at night, right?

Wrong. My partner and I are childless on purpose, and we intend to stay that way. As far as I know, we’re able to conceive, although on my side of the equation, that ability may be waning as I edge toward 40. But I don’t find myself panicking over the inevitable decline of my fertility. I’ve never seen myself as a parent, at least not with any clarity, and neither has my partner.

We’re well aware that staying childless isn’t considered a valid choice. We get reminded a lot of the proper order of things. Friends, family, and colleagues look at us and see a man and a woman who are clearly in love. They wonder: What’s the deal? When are they going to have children?

We mostly sidestep these questions when they arise; we’d rather not have to explain our decisions around such personal issues. Yet here I am, writing an article on our childless state for the consumption of total strangers. I guess I do feel the need to explain my part in these decisions. I only wish that there were a word other than “childless.” It has such a sad, pathetic connotation, like “spinster.” Being childless is a state of not-having. The childless couple is defined not by what they want, but by what they lack.