Jay Parmar

World Childless Week People’s Champion 2025-26

’73 – I was born.

Seven, three – 7th March 2006 – the day I met Bindi.

Coincidence? Fate? Universal admin team working overtime? I mean… come on! She was born one day before me. That’s not just close. That’s crazy close!

Surely the Universe was saying, “Right you two — big plans. Let’s go.”

And so we did.

We joined hands. Built a life. Built businesses. Bought a house. Dreamed dreams. And yes — dreamed of children.

I could see it all so clearly. The family holidays. The noisy Christmas mornings. The “Dad, can I borrow the car… and one of your guitars?” Conversations. The car maybe…. But the guitar?????…

The possibility felt so real I could practically touch it. It felt picture perfect.

And then… twenty years later… a different painting.

Childlessness.

Now that word can feel heavy if you let it. Loaded. Like it arrives wearing lead boots. And for a while it kept asking me questions.

“Did you fail?”
“Did life glitch?”
“What happened to the 7/3 magic, Jay?”

(Hello Universe? Are you there??)

But here’s the thing.

I’ve learned something over the years — not just from childlessness, but from the challenges, from losing people I loved, from tough chapters growing up, from standing on stages terrified, from building a life from scratch.

Now I want you to know — I didn’t wake up one morning glowing like a motivational lightbulb. I used to be very glass-half-empty. My inner voice was brutal. It was like a harsh backstage manager constantly shouting, “You’re not ready!” “Wrong note!” “Stick to the background!” “Don’t mess this up… you probably will anyway!”

Yep. Lovely voice. Very supportive, right?

But slowly — awkwardly at first — I started interrupting it.

Not angrily. Not dramatically. Just calmly.

“Thanks for your input… but I’m taking the mic now.”

That shift changed everything.

So when childlessness became our reality — after the hope, after the adoption heartbreak — I had a choice. Collapse into the grief or stand up in it.

And here’s the truth — I didn’t just choose positivity for me. I chose it because Bindi was hurting deeply. And I knew if we both drowned at the same time, there’d be no one left to throw the lifeline.

So I chose to focus on what brought us together. And I chose to become her rock.

Which is convenient… because I’m a rock guitarist!!! (The branding writes itself)

But jokes aside — being there for her gave me a focus. It gave me a mission, a purpose. And in order to fulfil that mission, I had to start using that resilience muscle.

And here’s what I’ve realised twenty years on: our life is not empty. It is full — just differently full.

We have travelled the world — Egypt, India, Sri Lanka, Italy, France, Germany, America and more. We’ve had spontaneous adventures. Late night conversations. Ridiculous laughter. Theatre trips. Business wins. Creative breakthroughs. We’ve built a partnership. We’ve built strength. We’ve built us.

Does that erase the ache? No. Sometimes it still pricks. Especially around children. That tenderness never fully disappears.

But what has changed is this — I no longer see childlessness as a verdict. I see it as a chapter.

It didn’t mean I failed. It didn’t mean life broke. It didn’t mean the Universe messed up the paperwork. It meant life unfolded differently.

Today, I get to choose how I show up inside that unfolding.

These days, I smile. A lot. Not because everything went according to plan. But because I choose to. And I’m grateful I’m still here and showing up!

Still loving.
Still creating.
Still rocking.

Someone once said to me recently, “You’re this upbeat and you drink decaf coffee?!”

Yes. Yes I am. I am powered by choice, not caffeine.

Every day I wake up and I make a decision. I will look forward, not backward. I will build, not blame. I will love what is, instead of grieving what isn’t.

Some days that choice is effortless. Some days it requires a deep breath and a quiet, “Okay Jay… let’s go.” But it’s always available.

If you are walking the road of childlessness — especially not by choice — please know this:

You are not broken.
You are not less.
You are not a failed version of someone else’s expectation.
Your life still has depth.
Your love still has purpose.
Your story is still unfolding.

And if a former ‘glass half empty’ kid who once believed he’d never make it out can learn to steer his own life — then trust me… so can you. But you have to choose to.

When that old inner voice starts again?

Just smile.

And calmly say:

Stop it. I’m driving now.

Then put your shades on.

There’s sunlight ahead.