These Books Offer Three Different Views of Childlessness

Nulligravida by Saralyn Caine, 2021

How do you feel when someone declares they never wanted children and puts down the people who do want them? Me, I’m very uncomfortable, as if I need to defend my desire to be a mother or explain why I haven’t adopted or gone through IVF.

I recently quit reading a book titled Nulligravida, which is the medical term for a woman who has never been pregnant. I couldn’t get past the mean-spiritedness of so many of the poems and essays by author Saralyn Caine.

  • “Children are noisy, selfish, and dependent. They can’t help it, but I can help having that in my life.”
  • “I refuse to be a host to a parasitic entity squirming around in my belly. I refuse to have persistent migraines from all the screaming. I refuse to sacrifice my sleep and health and body and sanity.”
  • “There is no soul waiting/for me to be its mother./If there were, I’d have the desire.”

Caine implies that women who become mothers sacrifice themselves to these “selfish parasites” called children. She also bashes Christians and anyone who promotes parenthood.

We are all entitled to make our own decisions in this area. Caine’s words are valid for those firmly against having children, but as someone who grieves the loss of the children I never had, I just couldn’t read any more of this book.

Childless: A Woman and a Girl in a Man’s World by Fabiana Formica, Nianima Press, 2025

I had trouble with Fabiana Formica’s Childless, too, but not because of its contents. Its unusual format makes it a slow read.

Formica was never able to find a fitting partner with whom she could start a family. Nearing the end of her fertile years, she froze her eggs and picked out a sperm donor, but she ultimately decided she was not up to having a child alone. Much of the book consists of letters to her unborn child, whom she names Nia after her grandmother. She tries to explain why she couldn’t go through with it.

Fabiana was married once. Although she hadn’t wanted children before, she said, once they were married, she felt a physical yearning to have a child growing inside her. When she asked her husband if they could start trying to conceive, she received “a resounding “No!”

She writes: “From that dissonance, between the body that quivers for the seed of life, and the mind, witnessing a full-blown typhoon about to hit the abandoned island of love, comes the short-circuit. The void. The devastation.

“I’d chosen a man, an imperfect human being, made of flesh and blood and vague feelings. An adult child, much as I was, too, wrapped in concern for the preservation of our own images as solid, proud and strong individuals. These projections concealed the fragility of our unresolved and difficult childhoods, but no one dared speak of such heartfelt truths. When I’d met him, I’d never have talked about children—because I didn’t want them. To be a mother, until that moment, had constituted an outrage directed at my future, an obstacle to my destiny, an unnecessary burden on my presence in the world, a presence I envisaged to be very different from that of my mother.”

Her own mother didn’t want children and had several abortions before giving birth to Fabiana. She always told her that having a baby ruined her life. Fabiana didn’t want to make the same mistake. But now she struggles with her decision to abandon her frozen eggs.

“I must justify the pain of the decision to let go of this attachment to an idea, to a role I’d play in society by telling myself there’s another plan for me, beyond motherhood, beyond caretaker, beyond anything imaginable by society, or by my own social conditioned thinking.”

She admits she enjoys her freedom to travel and to put her career and herself first. She tells her baby, “I wonder if such freedom would be compatible with you, my sweet baby Nia. If a happy union in which a man wouldn’t take possession of me, or you, to make us his missing rib, might exist, a man who allows my body so much freedom that he wouldn’t see a baby as the fruit of his conquest.”

Formica met recently with Gateway Women’s Jody Day and writer Y.L. Wolfe for an online webinar. They discussed Formica’s book, the desire to control their own lives, the pressure to create traditional families, and prejudice against people who are not married or partnered. You can watch the recording here.

Wait Here by Lucy Nelson, Summit Books, 2025

I have no qualms about recommending Wait Here by Australian author Lucy Nelson. This short story collection features protagonists who do not have children and probably never will. More important, these are great stories, quirky and original. In “Ghost Baby,” we read about a woman who looks for her aborted baby everywhere. In “The Feeling Bones,” Nelson uses the bones of the body to tell mini stories about her characters’ lives.

The title story, “Wait Here,” takes place entirely in a therapist’s waiting room. There, the lead character finds a comfortable oasis where she can invent stories and avoid what she has come to talk about: a baby she aborted or miscarried (it’s not spelled out). I truly enjoyed these stories. They’re easy to read and a relief for childless readers who are weary of fiction that always ends with the woman having a baby or heavy books that rail against the evils of pronatalism. This one is fun all the way through.  

When I first started writing about childlessness, there weren’t many books published on the subject. Most were Christian-oriented books on infertility that ended with a baby. It is good that writers are offering books now that show the many different faces of life without children.

Do you have any books recommend? Please share in the comments.


Three posts to go before I stop posting regularly here at the Childless by Marriage blog. What would you like to read here? I will keep up the website, with its reference list and an index of the 900 posts I have published over the years. You can also find me at the Childless by Marriage Facebook page.


If you want to know what I’m up to these days, visit my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack at https://suelick.substack.com or friend me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/suelick

“I Chose to Be Childfree. I didn’t think I was choosing isolation, too” 

When writer Cassidy Randall’s friend announced that she was pregnant, Randall felt betrayed. The friend she counted on to join her for spontaneous trips, hikes, concerts, or whatever struck their fancy, would soon join the circle of parents whose lives revolved around their families. 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. One by one, everyone seemed to be leaving her for the mommy track.

When she chose her childfree life, Randall writes in a Jan. 9 article at The Guardian, “I never consciously chose the tradeoff of categorical exclusion from conversations, gatherings and entire friend circles.” 

For those of us who are also single, I think we feel the same kind of loss when our partnerless friends find someone and become unavailable. Suddenly, it’s “Sorry, X and I have plans” or “Sorry, his kids are coming over.” While we’re glad they’re happy, we feel abandoned. You thought you were partners in non-parenting, and suddenly you’re on the outside looking in. 

Randall suffered from endometriosis. When she had surgery for it, the doctor asked if she’d like him to remove her fallopian tubes, too, since she didn’t plan to have children. She told him to go ahead, not realizing this choice would set her apart for the rest of her life. 

Parents are linked by school and after-school events. They meet for playdates, birthday parties, or just to chat about mutual concerns.  I remember the years when most of our church choir had young kids. I often found myself left out of the conversations as they discussed soccer or swim events, shared rides, frustrations with particular teachers, religious education, etc. They were not even aware of me loitering nearby, not sure whether to butt in or just go home. 

Now, we have more in common because their kids are grown. I only feel left out when they start sharing the grandbaby photos. I try to fit in with pictures of my great nieces and nephews, but it’s not the same.

Randall did not want to lose her friends, so she tried to keep in touch. When a friend who usually turned down her invitations was finally able to go skiing with her, the friend thanked her for the invitation and for not giving up. She was glad to know there was still life outside of parenting. 

Years ago, I published an essay in an anthology called My Other Ex, about women’s friendships breaking up. I had lost a friend who became so obsessed with her kids she didn’t seem to see me, even when I was in the same room. Before she had children, we worked together, turning out articles for a local newspaper, and had lots of fun outside of work. She was a bridesmaid for my second wedding. But then the babies came. After one too many times being ignored, I gave up.

Many years later, I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. The boys must be grown by now. With the maturity of age and having been a caregiver for my parents and my husband, I understand she had no choice back then. Caring for little kids takes all of your attention, time, and energy. You can’t just put them in the yard like a puppy. But when the kids go to school and get old enough to look away for a while, your friends have more time for you, if you stick around. 

Parenting is often said to be the most important job there is. I don’t have to be a parent to see that. But how do we fit into the picture without feeling completely isolated? 

I have no perfect answers. When my friends and family were having babies, I mostly shied away. But I do have some suggestions:

  • Don’t take offense because they’re too busy to socialize with you. They just can’t right now. 
  • Instead of focusing on your own lack of children, take an interest in theirs. Join their activities when you can. Cheer at their soccer games, go with them to Chuck E. Cheese, or watch a child-friendly movie together. You can bring the popcorn. 
  • Offer to help, even to babysit if you’re comfortable with that.
  • Keep in touch. Invite them out or ask if you can come over. If they say no, try to understand. Someday, they might say yes.
  • A “how are you doing?” text or a bouquet of flowers might make their day.
  • Help them buy gifts for their kids. Sit with them at the hospital if a child is hurt or take care of the healthy siblings. Help pick up the Legos. Bring food so they don’t have to cook.
  • Instead of feeling betrayed and left out, expand your friendship into honorary aunthood. Expand your two-some to include the mate and kids.  

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, the saying goes.

I know it’s hard. It might be too painful to be around children when you can’t have any of your own. A good friend will understand that. Maybe you can Facetime while the kids are napping or arrange a “playdate” for just you and your friend. Sometimes you are going to be left out, no matter what you do or say, because you don’t have children. Our lives are different; it can’t be helped. We may have to make new friends. But we can at least be open to staying connected. 

Enough from me. When do you feel most isolated, especially among people who have children? How do you react? Do you have any advice for how to deal with this?

Feel free to share stories of times when you felt especially left out or to disagree with my suggestions. 


Anything that makes us different, including childlessness, age, disability, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and so many other things, can divide us. I feel that way not only because I’m childless but because I’m widowed and live alone. I write about it at my Substack “Can I Do It Alone?” My main goal there, as for everything I write, is to build community and to shine a light on what our lives are like.  

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