Life goes by so fast. All the things you think you’ll be, all the things you think you’ll have. . .they don’t always show up when you think they will. Or ever.

To the women who have kids and look at me like a strange childless alien: I’m no different from you. Our lives just turned out differently. You got the “normal” life, the life that is most accepted by society. You are married with kids. Everyone understands that. It doesn’t call for explanation. No one asks you with a pitying look, “why did you get married?” or “why did you have kids?” as if it’s strange. But, when you are not married and don’t have kids, you’re the weirdo.

Society tells me every day—the moms I see in the grocery store, the families at the park—there’s something wrong with me. My friends are busy with their own families, so I’m going to these places alone. Sure, no one cares, no one notices. But it’sthe most natural thing in the world to want a family, but it didn’t work out and now what to do with me? I’m looked at like some strange species under a microscope, the questions in their eyes, “what’s wrong with her? Why is she single? Why didn’t she have kids?” For the longest time, I lied and told people I didn’t want kids because at least there’s an explanation. They can at least classify me as one of those women who didn’t want kids, a voluntarily childless woman, and society is becoming more accepting, so that’s easier. What’s harder is trying to tell the truth, which is that I really have no idea why I never had children. For some reason, my circumstances never allowed it, and then time marched on, the sadist that it is, and I’m nearly 41 and I don’t have kids. Trust me, it’s just as surprising to me as it is to you.

I take responsibility for the choices I’ve made. We just don’t have as much control over our lives as we’d like to think. You can try to do everything right but still not wind up where you want to be. I got married at 22 and I always assumed we’d have kids. But,we were already so broke from his out of control spending that I knew having kids with him was not a smart idea. Also, I wanted to wait until my early 30s to have kids. I didn’t fully realize this until much later, but I think the main reason I wanted to wait was because I’d been raised in an abusive home and I didn’t want to rush into bringing a helpless, innocent child into the world. I understood the magnitude of having a child and didn’t take it lightly. I wanted to do it right. But by the time we were 31, we were divorced. It’s okay, I thought. I still have time to find the right partner and start a family. Wrong again. I was in two serious relationships in my 30s and one cheated on me and one was abusive.

To add insult to injury, I can’t get onto social media without seeing friends’ engagement photos, wedding photos, cute baby photos, all the milestones they’re celebrating. And I want to be happy for them, I do. But each year that passes, I find it harder to celebrate with them. Because I can’t help but feeling that I’ve missed out. There’s a grief that comes with never having had children. It feels like a loss even though it’s something you never had.

There are many myths and assumptions associated with single, childless women. One of those is that our lives are somehow easy. My life is not an endless vacation. Let me tell you, I’m not Carrie Bradshaw and I’m not living the dream; this isn’t “Sex & the City.”

“You get to go home to an empty apartment,” they say. “How nice.”

OK, hold on a second. I get that you mean you’d like more quiet time away from your kids, but surely you don’t mean you’d actually like to come home to an empty home every night? Sure, I have friends, but let’s be honest, they are all married with kids. They’re busy with family life, the life I want. I don’t want to drink, go out to clubs and bars. . . I want to come home to a partner. What I’d give to come home to a messy kitchen with my kid running around covered in peanut butter. What I’d give to come home knowing I’m not alone, that I have a partner to face the world with. What I’d give to go to the park on Saturday with my husband and kids. “Oh, you can have them!” my married friends say. “Take my kids for the weekend and you’ll change your mind about wanting them.” No, I wouldn’t.

It seems so easy for many of my friends: get married by 30, start a family. . .What they don’t realize is that not everyone is so lucky. We don’t all meet a great partner to raise a family with. Then you wake up one day and you’re 40. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve certainly put myself out there. But, I’ve had to work long hours (while watching married women work less and take more vacations due to the benefit of two incomes) and support myself this entire time and that didn’t leave much time for dating. It’s paradoxical, because if I had a partner, I’d have more time. Doing everything on my own without the benefits of having another adult in the home who splits the bills is pretty damn stressful.But, I’ve had no choice but to focus on my work. No one’s helping to support me. So, I channel my love and my nurturing energy (that I could put into raising children) into helping others in my healthcare career.

I was going to wrap this story up in a nice little bow and end on a happy note, pretend I’m OK with being “circumstantially childless.”But I’m not going to lie to you. It’s scary to wonder if this is just how my life is going to go. If I’m destined to be alone. If this is all there is. My friends and coworkers see this happy woman who loves to write and make people laugh. They have no idea.

Elaine E.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay