Do you make a joke or try to change the subject, to hide your emotions? Do you simply respond “no” or give them an indepth answer and put them on the end of feeling awkward? Are there things you’d like to say but instead bite your tongue whilst holding back tears? How does this question make you feel?
Is it time for us to CHANGE the NARRATIVE?
After facing this question many times, I have developed a confidence-boosting strategy I call CALM. In this webinar, I'll share down-to-earth tips and mindfulness techniques (which we will practice in the session together) to help you handle conversations about not having children with confidence and comfort.
Watch the replay HERE
Do you have kids? A question that most if not all childless not by choice women dread. But are men asked this question with the same frequency and intense curiosity as women are? And if so, how do they feel? What is a typical male response? What is the aftermath of answering this question?
Watch the replay HERE
Our panellists—all CNBC and therapists/coaches—will open up about what it’s like to be on the receiving end of the questions that sting. Together, we’ll explore: The most difficult or triggering questions we’ve been asked recently How we responded in the moment How we might answer differently now Gentle, empowering ways to navigate awkward or painful conversations
Watch the replay HERE
This will be an open and frank discussion on the comment "have you got kids". What is it about this comments that annoys? Does the comment lessen in impact as time has gone by and have our responses changed, or do we bite our tongue rather than speaking our truth? Join us as we say it exactly like it is!
Watch the replay HERE
“Do you have kids?”
This is a question I’m asked 99% of the time when I meet someone new. It never fails. Maybe the first question is my name. But the second? Almost without exception:
‘Have you got kids’, it seems like an easy enough question to answer, doesn’t it.
It’s such a simple question. Casual. Common. Usually asked with no malice. At family gatherings. At work. On dating apps. In GP surgeries. By hairdressers. In places you’d expect, and places you wouldn’t.
How often do we think about women who may have wanted children but due to circumstances beyond their control were unable to have them?
After finally resolving to claim more control over my life, New year’s eve, 2025 found me and my husband going out to a community gala.
“Kids? Goats, you mean?” Is what my facetious self would say to that question, if I was feeling feisty, which I rarely am these days because my hopes and dreams have expired.
The dinner was delightful. The venue was lovely. The company was pretty good. The conversation was easy.The night was young.
“Do you have kids?”, a simple question that’s said.
But oh, how this question fills me with dread.
Somewhere along the way, society deemed it appropriate to start asking total strangers if they had kids.
During my unsuccessful journey to have children, people said and did things that hurt, but I had to remember that they cannot understand what or how it affected me.
At 22 Life is amazing. What career path will I take? Where will I live? What will my contributions to the world be?
These are all real comments, questions, statements that have been said to me directly or I’ve overheard indirectly....
It’s the question we all dread and quite rightly so. It can make us feel inferior, judged, ashamed, scared etc.
Have you got kids? The question so many childless women and men dread.
CNBC….Is it a news channel? An acronym? A label? Feeling that to accept the label makes me feel “less” realizing I feel less already ... .sometimes….
One of the main things I’ve heard throughout the 15+ years I’ve considered myself to be a lifelong Non-Mum (that is, after I had the crushing news that I would never be a mother followed failed IVF) is that being a childless or childfree woman in society means you’re invisible.
Dear Susanna, Please include this letter in my medical file.
Writing this on Bank Holiday weekend 2025 holds some poignancy; it was August bank Holiday 2021 and I was 41 years old when this chapter of the whole story began.
I never meant to be childless. I was one of those little girls who mothered her dolls and her stuffed animals.
I finished reading her favourite story, tucked her duvet gently around her and handed her the teddy bear that had been her companion since she was a baby.
Being the only female in a male-dominated work environment is never easy but never more so than when you are having fertility issues.
I am a 50-year-old childless married woman. I stopped trying to conceive about 10 years ago.

It's a barrage.
The constant asking, probing, wanting to know,
Do you have children?