Childlessness is something I only associated with sad spinsters. I never ever imagined that childlessness would be my destiny.

I remember thinking as a young girl that I would meet someone, get married by 21, and start having a family—it seemed so perfectly easy.

I would even go as far as to say, motherhood felt like my god given right, but maybe giving birth to a child, isn’t a rite for everybody.

According to Statista, today, more and more women are choosing to be childless.

In 2018 almost 34 percent of women in the US were childless by the age of 34 and in the UK, according to 2017 statistics, 18 percent of women were childless by the age of 45 compared with 10 percent in 1945.

So, the trend in both the UK and US is definitely moving away from having children, as more women than ever before make the conscious decision not to have them.

I believe the key word here is “choice”

There’s a huge emotional and psychological difference between consciously choosing something to having that thing thrust upon you. The results and consequences of making a conscious decision, compared with making the same decision unconsciously, are poles apart.

See, when you actively choose not to have children, you are a conscious participant in the decision-making process. You give time to thinking and reasoning your thoughts. You weigh up the pros and cons before you eventually make a considered decision.

On the other hand, when you make such a life-changing decision unconsciously, the ramifications affect the rest of your life.

That’s exactly what happened to me.

I made the decision not to have children, in a reaction to a traumatic childhood event.

I can be forgiven for having little idea about the power of words, especially the power of the words we speak in times of trauma because these are the most powerful words that have the greatest potential to either negatively or positively impact our lives.

In Sanskrit there’s a word, TATVAMASI, which translates to, I AM THAT. It means the universe gives you exactly what you ask for, whether you ask consciously, unconsciously or whether what you’re asking for is positive or negative—The universe simply grants your wish because the energy you use to ask is what the universe recognises.

Needless to say, the universe gave me exactly what I asked for—and this unconscious decision would give rise to many years of frustration, struggle, hopelessness, and desperate unhappiness. It took four decades for me to uncover the truth about the unconscious choice I had made as a nine-year-old girl.

My ignorance led to a frenetic search in vain, for any relationship that might lead to marriage and children. It’s no surprise then, that I attracted partners who were either emotionally unavailable or unwilling to commit to a relationship.

It took years for the penny to eventually drop and for me to realise that it was in fact me who was unavailable and uncommitted—I was unavailable and uncommitted to myself. It hit home that if I wanted someone to commit to me, I would first need to commit to myself.

Although, the truth is, the painful sense of desperation I felt, cast a dark shadow over much of my thirties and forties.

Yet, despite all my desperation, I knew one thing for sure—I didn’t want to have children on my own.

Why? Well because I saw my mother struggle.

My mother was a single mother of four, who had to work hard to hold down a job, so she could put food on the table for my siblings and me.

Watching her struggle was hard, but it’s what made me determined not to go through the same struggles. Therefore, I could never entertain the thought of being a single mother.

Although it was perhaps an unrealistic dream to only want children if it involved a loving relationship. Unrealistic as it may have been, I held onto this dream in the faintest hope that it might eventually materialise. But as I neared my 45^th birthday, it dawned on me that I had well and truly missed the boat.

I didn’t fathom just how much childlessness had affected me until I started taking a meaningful look at my life and began the journey of healing. Peeling back the layers takes time. It took a few years for me to really connect with this pain, but one day it happened, while I was on a month-long spiritual journey to Peru.

I was visiting an old church in Cusco—I wasn’t there to participate in the service, but rather to bask in the potent energies and to savour the sense of calm and connection I felt there. It was the perfect place to spend quiet time with myself.

Although the church was empty when I arrived, being Sunday, it quickly started filling up with worshippers.

A woman with her young toddler took their place in the pew in front of me. The child, about 18 months old, immediately took an interest in me. She fixed me in a stare, with her large brown eyes. She smiled and started playing hide with me.

The child was beautiful, but I found her uninteresting and I certainly didn’t want to play. All I wanted was to be with myself. Despite this, the girl persisted, distracting me and her mother in the process.

I began to notice a creeping sense of discomfort in my stomach…I couldn’t smile or give the toddler any warmth, because my insides wrenched.

The more she sought my attention, the more my stomach knotted and tightened, and the more I tried to avoid her.

I was becoming increasingly agitated with the situation, until the voice in my head asked, “Why are you pushing her away, why do you resist her?”

The voice caught me off guard, but the questions it asked, made me pause to examine my feelings. It slowly dawned on me why the child’s presence was making me so uncomfortable. My eyes welled up, then all I could do was allow the tears to fall.

I cried silently at first until I could no longer hold back the surge of emotions. Hurrying out of the church, I ran into the grounds and let the immense grief, sadness, disappointment, and hopelessness envelop me.

Seeing that happy, beautiful little girl, was a gut-wrenching reminder of what I would never have.

I was 46, embarrassingly single, with no hint of a relationship on the horizon. Accepting that I would never have a child of my own, was a reality way too painful for me to acknowledge.

It felt so unfair like there was something wrong with just me. I was a good person, what was I doing wrong?

The feeling that created the most turmoil inside, was the huge sense of failure I felt. Failure that I somehow hadn’t performed my duty as a woman. I additionally felt totally excluded from a club that every other woman seemed to belong to.

To make things worse, friends and family assumed that I had chosen a career over having a family, but this was far from the truth. I couldn’t discuss how I really felt with them, because of the shame and sense of failure I concealed.

It’s wrong for the world to presume that every woman who is childless, is so because of wanting a career.

For me being single and childless, was a double curse that created a gaping unresolved sore. I’d endured the pain for so long, I thought the wound would never heal.

Fortunately, life is dynamic and constantly moving. Nothing stays the same, everything changes, and eventually, so did this.  

The turnaround was gradual and required me to do the arduous work on my own healing, which I did through different workshops and courses I attended. But the biggest emotional shift came through the progressive acceptance of my situation.

It took a while, but I’m happy to say that I’ve finally been able to make peace with being childless. Mainly because today, I have children in my life in a real way, gifted to me through my partner Mona, who came into our relationship with two children of her own.

I’m thrilled to say that in the last two years, I’ve become a grandmother of two, to Nour and Neo. Neo is just two months old, but Nour is 22 months old and full of life energy, and light.

It fills me with joy that I’ve been fully accepted by Nour, no questions asked as “Mormor”.  That’s just one of the many gifts small children bring—they accept you without resistance.

When I think back to who I was in the past, I can admit that today, I’m grateful I didn’t become a mother, because I would have been terrible at it.

Sri Bhagavan says the best parents are those who have discovered love. I understand now that the deep lack of love I felt throughout my life, would have prevented me from being a loving parent.

However, maybe the inner happiness, love, and fulfillment I feel for myself today, will help me to be a better grandparent instead.