The room was thrumming with women in power outfits; hundreds of made-up faces that I didn’t know. I was there to feel empowered and to connect with other women. Yet as I entered that room, I felt a million miles from empowered.

I felt insignificant and worthless. I feared that I couldn’t relate to these women who oozed confidence and gave the impression of having it all.

I dreaded the inevitable questions that I would soon have to answer as I scanned the room for a friendly face to approach. I know all too well that soon after the question, ‘what do you do?’ would be ‘how many kids do you have?’

Even more so, I dreaded the assumption that I have kids. So often, women gathered like this connect over their children, making remarks about how hard it was to get out of the house on time or some other complaint that is universal to mothers. I then end up standing there silent, like a spare wheel with nothing to contribute as I am a childless, not by choice, woman.

I hesitated at the doorway for a moment. Do I really want to go into that room? Am I up to this?

In my mind, I run through my responses to the question, ‘do you have children?’. Simple answer ‘no’. Yet this is often met with ‘how lucky are you’ or ‘just you wait’. So, I usually answer, ‘it just didn’t happen for us’. But this response often isn’t met with the sympathy that feels appropriate. Sometimes people respond with a dismissive remark that hurts just as much; ‘oh, all the things you can do without children—if only’ or ‘if I had my time again, I’m not sure I would have’. Sure, like you’d just throw your children away, or it’s that easy to pick yourself up off the floor, brush off the despair, and live an incredible life (like that doesn’t make me feel even more worthless and pathetic as a childless underachiever!)

I take a deep breath. I am here to feel empowered. I am a worthy human being, mother or not. I have accepted our circumstances and that our life journey has taken a different trajectory than parenthood. So why fourteen years on from when we first started trying for a family, do I still feel this dread and worthlessness?

Quite simply, it is the fear of being judged. The judgement I perceive when someone says, ‘why not?’ or ‘how easy your life must be!’.

Yet, standing there, it also occurs to me that having children is not destined for everyone’s life journey; there are many reasons women may choose not to or can’t have children.

In this sea of unfamiliar faces before me, how many women have or maybe right now struggle to have children? How many assume it will just happen when the time is right? How many have never considered that it may not happen for some people, despite medical interventions? Or that some of us don’t wish to choose certain paths to motherhood.

My husband and I tried to adopt for five years as we didn’t want to pursue IVF for emotional reasons. We thought adoption would be straightforward: kids in need of a home and loving family. Yet there was extensive paperwork, trainings, social worker home visits, psychological assessment, criminal record checks and health checks. And no children.

Programs were closed. Criteria were tightened. Children's ages and special needs for intercountry adoption increased. Internal processes and corruption were investigated. We were accepted to then have to start the process again more than once.

Then we reached a point where we couldn’t continue; the emotional drain of adoption was on par with IVF, and the likelihood of success was not dissimilar. Five years in, with heavy hearts, we put an end to the journey.

Standing there, I reminded myself that I had come a long way in my acceptance. I have written blogs on childlessness. Just that week, I had submitted the manuscript for a novel that explores weight stigma, infertility and childlessness.

Although an emotional scar remains, which feels tender at times, I am now in a position to be a voice for childless women—if I choose and feel emotionally able in the moment. On entering that room, it occurred to me that I can be a voice for those who struggle to become or choose not to be parents. Only through speaking up will others know that becoming parents is not for everyone and that the childless community matter too.

I took another deep breath, now more empowered to enter that room as a childless woman.

No, I don’t have children, but I have something to contribute. My life is just as worthy and joyful, despite looking different. Life can take many paths, all of them of equal value.

Tansy Boggon