“You’re so lucky you don’t have kids” is one of the themes for next week’s World Childless Week. On Friday, Sept. 15, the Childless Elderwomen, including me, will discuss old age without children, a topic that scares the heck out of most of us. 

Are we lucky? Let’s be honest. Sometimes we are. We’re not crawling out of bed early to make lunches and drive the kids to daycare or school, spending all our money on children’s clothes and school supplies, or having every attempt at an adult conversation disrupted by a kid who demands our attention. Mom! Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad! I’m bored! 

But we’re also not having a little one snuggle with us and say, “I love you.” We’re not seeing our family traits reproduced in our children. We’re not saying “my son” or “my daughter” with pride.

We’re not worried every minute that our children might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. 

But we’ll never have adult children who worry that WE might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. I know some kids leave the nest and never look back. But there’s a good chance they’ll be around.

Lucky? Yes, I have time to work from dawn to bedtime without interruption. I only have to take care of myself and my dog. But that feels more like a consolation prize. 

We offered our lives to a partner who couldn’t/wouldn’t give us children. If that partner is still with us, they will take care of us, and we will take care of them. But what if they’re gone, or what if we never had a life partner? What if we are what some call an elder orphan? Parents gone, no spouse, no kids.

My brother visited me last week. He has a wife, two kids, and three grandchildren. The chain of people looking out for “Papa” is clear. Not so much for Aunt Sue. We huddled in the den and talked about aging and death. I handed him an envelope with all of my financial information, my wishes if I die, and a draft of my obituary. We talked about wills, powers of attorney, and health care representatives. If I’m suddenly unconscious, who will be legally allowed to take care of things? It needs to be clear and official because my nearest family member lives 700 miles away. 

We talked about who I would leave my money to, about stepchildren and his children and charities I could fund. We talked about setting up a trust. With no obvious heirs, I’m free to do what I want with whatever’s left. Lucky? Maybe.

We talked, too, about who will handle things if he dies first. The possibility breaks my heart, but I may have to pay a professional, someone who doesn’t even know me. 

Enough doom and gloom. But I want you to consider this visual image. A photo of my brother’s family has seven people in it. There will be more as the young ones marry and have their own kids. The photo of my family has just one person: me. 

Lucky? An old Janis Joplin song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” 

There are advantages and disadvantages to not having children. I’m heading out of town today. I’m not taking a rambunctious three-year-old. Lucky. No one will ever call me “Mom” or “Grandma.” Not so lucky. 

What do you say when someone says “You’re so lucky not to have kids.” 

Are there words for that? Or do we just stare at them with a look that says, “You have no idea.” 

Join us next Friday for the Childless Elderwomen talk, hosted by Jody Day. It’s at noon Pacific time. The website will help you find your time. Register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen/. Attendees are not visible on the screen, so you can be totally anonymous. 

Visit https://www.worldchildlessweek.net for the full schedule of events.