“What is it like, being childless?” That title of a recent post at the Life without Children Substack got me thinking. In a minute, we will look at how author Colleen Addison answered the question, but first, let’s think about this. What is it like for you and for me?
With Mother’s Day happening this weekend, why not start there. What is it like?
- Last night at church choir practice, two moms in the group were talking about the Mother’s Day breakfast happening Sunday after Mass. Apparently, they serve mimosas to the mothers. I have never attended. I try to avoid church and all public places on Mother’s Day because it’s uncomfortable having to repeatedly explain that I am not a mother and therefore should not be receiving a flower, mimosa, or special blessing.
- It’s like I don’t have the right clothes, so I can’t attend the party.
- I speak to women my age or older whose adult children help them with every aspect of their lives. Do these mother women even see that I have no kids to help me? But I am proud that I can manage things by myself.
- I see pregnant women and know that amazing process will never happen in my body. I also know that that process can change a body in ways I don’t really want, so I’m a little relieved.
- I see moms snuggling with their little children and know the best I can do is snuggle with a dog.
- I see the physical characteristics shared by moms, dads, and kids, and wonder what my children would have looked like.
- Sometimes when people assume I’m a mom, I let them think I am because it’s easier than explaining why I never had children.
- I see kids acting out and wonder where I would find the patience and self-restraint not to kill them or give them away.
- When I hear politicians and theologians raving about “these selfish women” who don’t want to have children, I want to scream, “But I did want them!”
- I feel younger than my peers, as if I’m still waiting to go through the life stages they experienced decades ago.
- I feel older than my peers because I’m not around children and don’t know what young people are doing and thinking these days.
- I think about the choices I made and the things that have happened and wonder what if, what if, what if.
- I am often alone on the holidays and my birthday. I am free to do whatever I want on the holidays and my birthday.
- My name will not disappear as I become Mom or Grandma. I will be Sue forever. Sometimes Aunt Sue, which I treasure more than I can express.
- I will forever grieve the loss, a loss most people don’t recognize–how can you grieve what you never had?–and I will forever enjoy my freedom.
That’s what it’s like for me.
Let’s get back to the article. Addison’s therapist was the one who asked, “What is it like?” The therapist was a father with family photos on the shelves behind him.
- Like all of us, Addison has many answers. “I can say that I am sometimes happy I didn’t have children, and that there is guilt in that.”
- “I can tell you that there are bad aspects and that I veer away from them. I don’t look at babies and avert my eyes from pregnant women.”
- “…if I had children I would be someone else, utterly and profoundly…the me I am now would be lost if I had had children and the loss would have been as sad or nearly as the loss of my imagined children.”
- “It is being alone, really alone, on a wide wide sea.”
I have never lived the life I might have lived if I had had children. I only know this one. I do know it is different in many ways from that of people who have children. Look around my living room. There are no pictures of children, only landscapes and photos of long-dead loved ones. There are no toys. Nothing is child proofed. Nothing is child sized. I’m not saying that’s good or bad; it’s just how it is.
Your turn. Ask yourself, “What is it like?” If a therapist, friend, or podcast interviewer asked, what would you say? I invite you to share your answers in the comments.
I thank Ali Hall for her fabulous Life Without Children Substack. Subscribe. You’ll like it.
Photo by Wojciech Kumpicki on Pexels.com. Why a cat picture? He looks like he wants to know what you think, doesn’t he?
Jody Day and Katy Seppi are offering a free masterclass, “Navigating Mother’s Day as a Childless Woman” on Saturday, May 10 at 11 a.m. PDT. If you register here, you can attend live on Zoom or watch the video later.
The electronic edition of my book No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s is on sale for just 99 cents! The sale will last through May 11, then go back to the usual $9.99 (I don’t set these prices). If you have ever thought about reading NWOOT, as I call it, now is the time. It’s practically free.

I think you nailed it. All of those up and down emotions are spot on.
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I prefer avoidance of the day. Social media is the worst place to get caught up in. I’m lucky in that I have several friends who are Mums who don’t make much of Mothers Day – too commercial and also be nice to your Mum every day is their belief. My mum has gone now too, so I don’t need to be ‘the daughter’ on Mother’s Day either. Hubby goes to see his Mum on his own as he knows I don’t want to be involved in it. I do find the day passes over quite quickly and without too much impact on me nowadays.
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That’s a big question you’ve asked! How does it feel? To me, it feels different on Mother’s Day to other days, simply because the absence of children in our lives is emphasised by media, family and friends. We are made to feel “other” on that day, much more so than any other time of the year (perhaps with the exception of Christmas). I wanted to ask the women at your church who were talking about “serving mimosas to mothers” if they ever once thought about the women of their congregation who don’t qualify, for whatever reason, and how these events might make them feel. Have they ever noticed you don’t go to church on that day?
Otherwise, the question is huge. It’s good and bad just the same as every other life. I’ve been blogging for over ten years about how it feels on every other days. It doesn’t end!
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