I was born in 1945, I am 75. My mother was born in 1913 and World War II prevented many women of her generation from becoming mothers, just as the First World War had reduced the number of young men and the chance of marriage for the women of the previous generation.
My mother taught full time with dedicated single ladies who became warm and caring “aunties”. At my schools in the 1950s, all the women teachers were single, I had many successful childless role models. I was encouraged by my mother to take all the opportunities which my brother had, so in the 1960s I was at the same university as him in Edinburgh. There were almost no female teaching staff. There was no childcare, so I did not see women with careers and families.
Fortunately, with encouragement from my family, I became a hospital consultant in the NHS with a rewarding career working with children and teenagers, a good salary and now a generous pension. My career has given me the opportunity to have a good lifestyle and meet interesting people.
When I was in my forties, I was sad not to have my own children. I seemed too old to start a family and too young to retire. My mother was the only person who knew of the tears and sadness of not having my own children.
My brother and his wife were unable to have their own children in spite of years of investigations, so they adopted two babies in the early 1970s when this was more feasible than it is now. IVF had not started. Couples now wanting to start a family may have the option of IVF but Lisa Jardine (BBC Radio 4, A point of view, 27.10.2013) described this as “a market delivering grief and a sense of failure”. A relative was having IVF at that time, costing £25,000. Thoughts about the possibility of assisted conception seem to make childlessness worse for young couples now than it was for previous generations.
In my 50s, while I was working and had a regular pattern to my life, I had many interesting travels, giving me a different perspective on life. Now, there are more people living alone and this makes holiday bookings difficult. Single rooms need booking many months ahead, they are excessively expensive, and gradually I am losing interest in the cultural holidays I once enjoyed.
When I retired at 60, many contemporaries were having grandchildren. I had enjoyed seeing their own children grow up and with the arrival of grandchildren, there was talk about these little ones, but I seldom saw them. My interest waned and I spent more time on my hobbies. I have played the cello since my schooldays and in the past few years this has been an important part of my life. I play in 2 orchestras, learning new pieces for 8 concerts a year, I have monthly lessons, sit on the organising committee of the larger orchestra and write the newsletter for the “Friends”.
Since retiring, I have attended weekly art classes locally and twice a year I have an art holiday in the Lake District. Now I enjoy the challenge of entering my work for art exhibitions and the thrill of having my work accepted. The judges do not ask if I have children! This year I am in a few “online” exhibitions…such fun! I hope to continue these creative hobbies for many more years.
Now, particularly with the Covid-19 pandemic, I must face the next stage of my life. I am in excellent health, physically and mentally. At the beginning of lockdown, all my immediate neighbours offered to do my shopping. We have become closer and I know that they would help me if necessary. I have spent some time sorting out my affairs, checked my will and written my obituary. I realise what an interesting life I have had! I would not wish to change places with anyone else.
After 5 months of restricted activities due to the Covid-19 pandemic, I feel younger than ever and have the health, confidence and finances to enjoy life. I know it is important to keep up some IT skills, emails are my life-saver. I enjoy my own company, I am in close touch with godchildren and the grandchildren of cousins.
My main concern is the help I may need in the future. Who will notice if I am slipping behind with payments, shopping is out of control, the house is a mess or my personal hygiene is poor? But my contemporaries with families are not much better: both children of my dear schoolfriend live in Australia with busy lives and children of their own.
I accept that I may need to spend some time in a care home. My mother moved to a care home near me at age 91 and I was able to see her almost every day for 5 years. She was frail but remained alert. She was always pleased to see me, but sadly I will not have the pleasure of regular family visits. My mother died in the care home after a short illness. The end of life care was excellent, by staff she knew and loved.
There is no need to whinge in later life about being childless, it is a different way of life and it is important to concentrate on the advantages. The topic “Ageing without children” is interesting to me although I do not think about the matter all the time, as one does when grieving, I am already past that difficult stage of childlessness.
Anon.