“I don’t have children.”
At the reception after my father’s funeral a few years ago, I was sitting with dad’s neighbors. Such nice people. We were exchanging the usual pleasantries—nice service, he was a good man, etc.
Then they asked about my children. The Mrs. pointed to my niece. “Is that your daughter?”
I wish.
“No, she’s my brother’s daughter,” I said.
“Where are your children?”
“I don’t have any children.”
Thud.
They didn’t know what to say after that. I don’t remember what I said. Did I talk about my work, boast about my niece and nephew, or discuss the music at the funeral? I excused myself soon after and threaded through the crowd to the company of cousins who already knew I was widowed and childless.
The next day, after I sobbed through the process of settling Dad’s ashes into place next to my mother’s at the mausoleum, the adults gathered their kids and drove away. They were too busy wrangling the little ones to realize I had no one to be with.
The question and the conversation-exploding answer of “I don’t have kids” happens all the time, especially among women. Generally men chat more about work and sports, but not always. They ask, too. It’s understandable. When your life revolves around raising children, and most of the people you know are also parents, kids are the one thing everyone has in common.
Folks skip right past “Do you have children?” to “How many children do you have? “How old are your children?” “Do your children go to X school?” or “Do your adult children live nearby?”
If I have a choice, I usually don’t mention my childless situation. Why set off that bomb if you don’t have to?
The question comes most often during those years when you’re of an age when you would be raising children if you had them, but it still comes up in later years. Substitute “grandchildren.” You can’t have grandchildren if you never had children.
Saying you never had children confuses people. It leads conversations to dead ends. It leads to one of you suddenly needing to get another drink, use the restroom, or go talk to someone on the other side of the room.
People respond in funny ways. Oh, I didn’t realize. Oh, there’s still time. Lucky you. I’ll give you mine. I just assumed . . . They rarely ask why—unless they are also without children. Those who are childless by choice may answer, “I never wanted any either,” leaving you to protest, “I wanted them, but . . .” Or maybe you just smile.
It depends on where you are, of course. In a gathering of writers, “What do you write?” is the big question. Classic car collectors will ask, “Are you driving that blue Chevy over there?” Gardeners may ask, “How are your tomatoes doing?”
But in the general public, especially among families, you’re going to get the kid question.
Mother’s Day is coming, a day when our lack of children may make us want to stay in bed with pillows over our heads. The advertisements have already begun: gifts for “Mom,” brunch for “Mom,” special Mother’s Day concerts. Schoolchildren are making craft projects to honor their moms.
For those of us without children, it’s just another Sunday, but one where we’re even more likely to hear those questions. How many kids do you have? How many grandkids? Are they taking you out today? Here’s a carnation, MOM.
Until you’re forced to say, “I don’t have any children. I’m not a mom.”
Then you get the look: slacker, freak, cold-hearted selfish person. No flower for you.
Let’s talk about this. Where and how do you face questions about offspring? What happens when you say, “I don’t have children”? Why does it feel like a confession when we haven’t done anything wrong?
I look forward to your comments.
Childless by Marriage 
I must have been around rude people my whole life. I’ve experienced lots of pity looks, conversation thuds, and flat out disregards once the subject of children came up.
My favorite burn was the annual flower giving. My mother in law would buy all the mothers in her family a flower after mass. Then she’d dole them out at the end of the Mother’s day visit, making sure to give me one as well. For several years I’d protest, “Thanks, but I’m not a mother.” She’ tisk’d argue and assure me that being a godmother was JUST LIKE a mother. I’d leave with that one lone rose that all the other women received. She’d do something similar to my husband on Father’s Day.
Finally my husband told her, “look, we understand that you are trying to be kind but it makes us feel WORSE when you try to insist that we are “just as good” as real parents. We’re completely comfortable with you doing and saying whatever you wish to the others. Because they are actual parents. We’re not and that’s okay.”
And we really meant it. We didn’t want her to stop doing anything to those mothers and fathers. I get that it feels mean to give every other woman in the family a flower and not give one to me. I’ll take the dang flower, okay. But just say, “here’s a flower for you because you are special to me.” Don’t try to pretend that I’m “just as good” in the motherly sense. Because I’m very aware that I’ve not done a speck of sacrifice, worry and work that these mothers have done.
She has since stopped doing anything nice on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day because she didn’t want to exclude us. Grrrrrr. That is exactly what we didn’t want to happen!
Anyway, we’ve recently joined a new church and we’ve had no one reject us for not having children. They ask, of course, but they just move onto a new topic of conversation when we reveal that we do not have children. There is no shame. They are not embarrassed that they’ve asked. No one cares.
The newer friends I’m making react similarly. Perhaps it’s my own attitude that colors things and I’ve finally turned a corner. Maybe I’ve stopped attracting those negative people. Or maybe it’s just that I’m avoiding certain people and now I don’t have that condescending assurance that I’m “just as good”.
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Oh Anon. “Just as good???” Makes me want to scream. I am so glad you have found a more welcoming situation, and so sorry your mother did not understand. We can’t change other people, only ourselves.
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It’s funny because I don’t remember being asked that question very often. Maybe that’s more of an american thing ? Or maybe I just didn’t pay attention.
I myself have been guilty of asking that very question. It just feels like an innocuous way of making conversation. But now that I look back, it does get a little bit awkward when the answer is “I don’t have any”. The thing is, either you wanted them – and then it feels rude and intrusive to ask about it – or you didn’t want them, and then the assumption is that you have no interest in the subject. Actually that’s a good question. When you tell people you don’t have children, what is the reaction you prefer ? Is it better to ask about it, or to change the subject ?
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That is a good question. I think, just for myself, I would like them to follow up, maybe ask “Was that by choice?” Or something that leads to the rest of the story. Not everybody will agree with that.
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When I tell people I don’t have children, I’d prefer a reaction such as the most recent one I encountered.
“So, do you have children?”
“No, that never happened for us.”
“Ah, we had one biological child and then we adopted our son. Did you grow up around here?”
“I grew up in the next town over. How interesting that you adopted a child from India, tell me more . . .”
I realized that you can’t always go by script and each situation is different but in this situation – the women I was speaking with was just trying to get to know me. So she asked a popular question and I answered.
She didn’t act embarrassed. She didn’t cringe or apologize. She didn’t give me advice or make any assumptions. She simply moved on with the conversation in a natural way and gave me the opportunity to steer that conversation completely away from the subject of children. But I was actually interested in her as well so I happily chatted with her about her experiences building her international family.
I believe that when people act embarrassed or awkward around me, it’s usually because they think my childless life is pathetic and they feel terrible for bringing it up. Which is so, so, so very wrong. For instance, I own a successful business. When I ask people what they do for a living and I learn that they work in a large office – I don’t say, “Oh, man. I’m SO SORRY you don’t have your own business and get to run things.” I don’t say, “It’s okay. I’ll bet you get to hang anything you want on YOUR cubicle walls. And you get FREE parking – yay for you! I’ll bet you even have a coffee maker in the break room. No coffee maker? Oh, I am so sorry! Well, the coffee down the street is just as good, isn’t!! And you have that free parking right?”
Because there is NOTHING wrong with a person who works a basic job that they may or may not hate. There is nothing wrong with a person who doesn’t want the hassle of being self employed. There is nothing wrong with a person who was fired and is working their way back up the ladder in a new company. But if I project sadness for their “little cubicle” – then I’m judging them. If I make a big deal about their “cute little workspace” – I’m being patronizing. And it keeps me from learning about how much they love their co-workers and get regular bonuses or freebies. Or how they all run a 10K for cancer together, or that they do important work for a non-profit. Or have interests beyond their work.
Because I’d only be focusing on how important I feel because I have my own business and they don’t. I’d be a jerk.
lol. Okay, I know you weren’t asking for this kind of response. :) I guess I just have a lot of my mind and wanted to vent a little and got carried away.
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I’m always glad to read your comments, Anon S.
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i dread mother’s day. i have no children due to circumstance — i have no underlying medical issues, nor did i choose this life, it just happened to end up this way.
i do have two adult stepchildren…who could care less about my existence. even though they are both grown, they tend to act like the incredibly jealous, selfish, and hateful children that, unfortunately, i have known them to be.
i also have two grandchildren now, and they have my heart! but they are my stepdaughter’s kids and when it comes to mother’s day, the focus and attention is all on her. in the past, she actually gave me cards or small gifts and trinkets that the grandbabies made — for whatever reason, this has stopped. i don’t even get a happy mother’s day text or acknowledgment of any kind.
it’s hard to think that no matter what i do for my husband’s children and their children, it will never be enough FOR THEM – it will never be appreciated – and i will never be a mother, in mind, body, or spirit.
while their behavior definitely hurts, i have decided that this year i will not spend mother’s day with them. instead, i will focus my attention on my own mom, as she is still here and i am so very grateful for her 🙂 i know that over time, this too will change, and when it does there will be little to celebrate anymore.
being childless is difficult enough, and times like these reinforce the overwhelming sense of loss and gravity of the situation.
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Anon, I sympathize, and I’m sure many others do, too. Mother’s Day sucks when you don’t have children, and having stepchildren who don’t honor you in any way makes it worse. A week from now, it will be over. Let’s take comfort in that.
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Thank you ladies. Reading your posts made me feel so much better. I called my widowed dad and talked to him on Mother’s Day. I texted my godmother and wished her a Happy Mother’s Day. I declined the rose at mass (probably rather rudely, I’m afraid). And told a new work peer, that asked about my Mother’s Day, that it was a rather painful day for me since I have no children and my mother is no longer alive. It made me feel a little less sad, left out, and bitter reading all your heartfelt posts. Thank you.
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