To be honest, this article has been sitting as a draft on my computer for a while. Every now and then I thought of something new about it, and I always hesitated about publishing it.
Not because I’m unsure about this topic, but because I know how emotionally charged it is and how quickly people feel personally attacked when you talk about life plans that deviate from society’s ideal. And I always scroll through the comments in horror whenever this topic comes up on social media. Most recently just the day before yesterday under a post from Maddie.
In recent years I have often written about the desire to have children, family planning and how our society deals with this topic. When I wrote this article I was in my early 30s and of course I was aware that decisions can change. At that time I didn’t write about a final decision, but rather a snapshot. I knew that life plans are not always set in stone and that in your early or mid-30s you may not be able to finally say where you are going.
Now I’ll be 40 in four months and Chris and I made a joint decision some time ago: to live without children of our own. A decision that we have had to explain, defend and justify far too many times since then (yes, still!). Or to be more precise: especially me.
And that’s exactly why I want to write about it today. Not to justify myself for anything, but to make visible a perspective that obviously still needs to be explained in 2026.
What many people don’t want to understand is that deciding not to have children doesn’t automatically mean that the decision was made lightly. Quite the opposite. I’ve given this topic an incredible amount of thought. Probably even more than many people who decide to have children.
If you as a woman do not have a strong desire to have children, you are constantly confronted with questions, comments and expectations. Often garnished with an arrogant: “You’ll regret it eventually.”
Especially three years ago, when I was in really bad mental health, I questioned almost my entire life. My job, where we live, interpersonal relationships. Big decisions. A lot of things were put to the test. My relationship with Chris and this decision are not.
If you don’t have this burning desire to have children, there are (and I just have to say this openly and honestly at this point) many arguments that speak against having children. And yes, you think about that too. About responsibility, about the future, about mental capacities and about the state of this world.
I find arguments such as having children to secure the pension system or not to be lonely in old age particularly irritating. Children are not an insurance policy or a social obligation.
And no, that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand people who want children. Quite the opposite. I know that as a woman in my thirties who doesn’t want to have children, I’m the exception. And I am very happy about every pregnancy news from friends and I feel at least as much pain when I find out that dear people have an unfulfilled desire to have children. It honestly breaks my heart when I see how much someone wants a child and that wish remains unfulfilled.
It always gives me a strange feeling when I tell my gynecologist that our family planning is complete, and a few minutes later at the ultrasound I am still told how wonderful everything would look for a pregnancy.
Choosing not to have children does not automatically mean not liking children. Not placing any value on family. To revolve only around yourself. This prejudice probably hurts me the most. This underlying assumption that you are selfish, that you don’t like children or that you only think about yourself.
Family is very important to me. And I like children. I am happy to see my friends’ children, I enjoy listening to stories about their everyday lives, I am happy about small and large milestones and I am excited when something comes up that is important to them.
What I found particularly exciting over the years: As a man, Chris felt like he only had a fraction of this mental ballast. It was just clear to him: I don’t want children. Point. For me it was: I don’t want children. And yet there were 100,000 thoughts, comments, questions and justifications from outside.
Because this decision is apparently still much less accepted by women. As if femininity had to automatically go hand in hand with motherhood. As if something would be missing if you decide against it. This underlying feeling of “you’re lesser if you’re not a mother” is hurtful. Even if you are completely sure of your decision.
And when you’re told that you’ll “never experience what love really means,” it just becomes presumptuous at some point.
I never felt like there was anything missing from our relationship. Or that we would only be complete if there was someone else. Our family feels complete. And that’s exactly what seems surprisingly difficult for many people to endure. By the way, I can only partially identify with the DINK lifestyle that is currently often celebrated on Instagram (“Double Income, No Kids”). For me, it was never about not having children in order to be able to live as freely, luxuriously or as independently as possible.
Our decision was not made against anything. But for our very personal life plan. For a life that feels right for us.
Children can be the greatest fulfillment for many people and I wholeheartedly understand if that is your path. But why does society still find it so difficult to simply allow other models of life to exist alongside it? Not to criticize, not to compare, not to project your own desires onto others.
A life without children is not automatically empty, selfish or incomplete. Our decision is simply a different path. Our way. And our family is not incomplete just because it looks different than society’s ideal image. It is complete because it suits us.
So what does child planning do?
Why it’s not always just a “child or career” decision
Why you shouldn’t just ask the question about planning children…
Why you shouldn’t just ask the question about planning children – Part Two
