In many areas of my life I have struggled with uncertainty, often searching for direction while trying to meet the expectations around me. As a woman, becoming a mother is one of the strongest expectations of society. Yet when it comes to motherhood there has always been an unusual clarity.
For as long as I can remember, I have never felt the desire to become a mother. And for a long time that quiet knowing was accompanied by a question I did not always dare to speak out loud. Is there something wrong with me?
The doll corner
One of the earliest memories that reflects this goes back to primary school. In the classroom there was a small area we called the doll corner. Many of the children loved to spend their time pretending to be parents and caring for baby dolls. The game followed a familiar script of feeding, comforting, and tucking the dolls into their beds. It seemed to come naturally to most of the children.
One day the teacher noticed that I never joined the others there and told me it was my turn to play in that corner. I remember standing there with the dolls in front of me, unsure of what I was supposed to do or how this was meant to be fun. I felt strange, as if something was missing inside me or as if I did not understand something.
That feeling didn’t really change when I grew older. In high school some of my friends spoke about babies with excitement and tenderness, imagining the families they hoped to have one day. The emotions they described simply did not exist in me. When they were daydreaming about this, I felt mostly indifference and even discomfort at the thought of becoming a mother myself. And in the background that same question would return, is there something wrong with me?
“You will change your mind”
During my twenties people often told me that my feelings would eventually change. They said it in the calm and confident tone people use when they believe they are describing a natural law. You will feel differently when you are older, they would tell me, as if the desire for children was something that inevitably arrives with time.
Even my former partner spent a period trying to convince me that having children could be a next step in our relationship. Looking back now, I feel deeply grateful that I never allowed myself to be persuaded on this point.
At that stage of my life things were already complex enough. I was navigating life, expectations, relationships and many internal struggles at once. Somewhere very deep inside I felt a desire to eventually build a life that truly felt like my own. The idea of becoming responsible for children did not fit in that picture and did not feel right.
Motherhood did not appear to me as a calling but rather as a responsibility I might carry with reluctance, and that would not have been fair to myself and the children either. Every child deserves to grow up with parents who genuinely want to be in that role.
A question that is rarely asked
As the years passed and I became more confident about my choice, people continued to ask the same question: why do you not want children?
It is a reasonable question, and one I have heard many times. Yet over the years I found myself becoming more curious about a different question, one asked far less often.
Why do people want children?
The many reasons behind parenthood
This question does not always seem to be explored with the same level of reflection. For many people the desire for children is simply accepted as self-evident, something that belongs to the natural order of life. But the motivations behind parenthood can be complex and layered.
Some people speak about a deep wish to nurture a new life and guide a child as they discover the world. Others long for the sense of meaning and purpose that raising a family can bring. For some it is about love and connection, the hope of building a close bond that lasts across generations.
There are also motivations of which one might not always be aware or fully honest about. Sometimes the desire for children is intertwined with the hope of strengthening a relationship, filling a sense of emptiness, or creating a family for personal future security. In certain cases people imagine that a child will bring unconditional love into their lives or provide a deeper sense of belonging.
Everyone has their own reasons and motivations. In my opinion there is no right or wrong but often the conversation about parenthood focuses on what it might give to the adults involved rather than on the profound responsibility of bringing an entirely new human being into existence.
For generations this path was rarely questioned at all. Especially for women, motherhood became a script, the only story available. In many cultures it was, and maybe still is, simply assumed that adulthood will eventually lead to marriage and children, leaving little room to imagine alternative paths or personal desires.
The conversations we rarely hear
In recent years I have also come across stories from parents who quietly admit that if they could choose again, they might make a different decision. These stories are rarely shared openly because the subject carries a heavy stigma. Parenthood is often portrayed as a universally fulfilling experience, and admitting anything more complicated can feel almost forbidden.
Yet life unfolds in unexpected ways for all of us, and raising children is no exception. I sometimes think it would be healthier if these conversations could exist without shame, both for parents who struggle with these feelings and for the children who may sense them without fully understanding why.
A medical turning point
My own sense of certainty about this choice became even clearer during a medical situation several years ago. Doctors discovered the final precancerous stage of cervical cancer and I had to undergo surgery. Before the procedure they explained that removing enough tissue to eliminate the abnormal cells might mean that I would no longer be able to carry a child. The alternative would involve other treatments such as chemotherapy or radiation.
When they explained the options, I felt an immediate clarity about my decision. The doctor encouraged me to take time to think about it and confirm my choice later, which I did. After the surgery it became clear that carrying a child would indeed no longer be possible for me. This news never felt like a loss. It simply confirmed something that had already been true in my own mind for many years.
Making peace with the question
Occasionally people asked whether my decision is connected to experiences or situations within my family. The honest answer is that I do not fully know. Human motivations are rarely simple, and it is possible that many subtle influences have shaped the way I feel. What I do know with certainty is this: the desire for children has simply never been present in me, and I feel at peace with that reality.
I also realize that there are women who deeply long to have children but are unable to, and I sympathize with them. Sometimes it feels difficult for me to openly express my own choice. The contrast between these experiences requires a certain carefulness.
At the same time I have come to understand that each life unfolds in its own way, shaped by different desires, possibilities and limitations. Just as the longing for children is real and valid for some, the absence of that desire is equally real and valid for others. Including mine.
A different kind of life
Choosing not to have children can sometimes lead to assumptions. Some people interpret it as selfishness, while others imagine that it must mean you dislike children. Neither of those things feels true to me.
I understand that parenthood can be one of the most meaningful and beautiful paths in life for many people. I imagine it can also be incredibly demanding, complex and at times overwhelming. I have great respect for all parents, no matter how their journey has unfolded, and I believe that most are simply doing what they can with what they have in each moment.
When someone tells me that becoming a parent has been the most profound experience of their life and that I am missing out on that, I admit that I do not know how that feels and that I never will in this life.
I have come to believe that the decision to become a parent deserves the same depth of reflection as the decision not to. Bringing a child into the world is one of the most significant responsibilities a person can take on. It shapes not only your own life but the life of another human being whose future will unfold in ways none of us can fully control.
My own path has simply unfolded in a different direction. For me, a meaningful life does not require becoming a mother. It requires living in alignment with my own truth, listening to the voice inside that has always known which direction feels right. And for me, that direction has always been a life without children.