When we went into pandemic lockdown, I became much more active on social media that I had been in the past so I could better stay connected to friends and loved ones. I’m grateful for how easy these programs and apps make it for us to stay in touch and have a small window into one another’s lives. But as my “feeds” fill up with pictures of parents with their kids and grandkids, I’ve been hit with some emotions I wasn’t expecting.
95% of the time, I’m delighted to see what everyone’s up to, and enjoy these posts, happy to see the people I love happy. But at other times, I feel the weight of the fact that our childless situation is not the norm. I know the number of people who never have children is increasing, but nonetheless our stories don’t form the dominant narrative. There are moments, watching my parent-friends’ lives scroll by, when the feeling creeps up on me that I am “other,” abnormal, and missing some vital piece of life.
Not only that, but now I’m both “other” and middle-aged, which brings with it a whole new set of concerns.
Many before me have observed that social media tends to make us view ourselves through a lens that compares us with others. Watching my friends and family members’ kids grow up, graduate, and start their adult lives is a powerful reminder that time is passing, and I’m ageing without children.
A few years ago, my husband and I moved across an ocean so we could be here to support his mother, who has health issues. Meanwhile, my sister and her family are planning to buy a house with an in-law suite which my parents look forward to moving into, so I don’t have to worry so much about them, knowing they’ll also have on-the-ground support. My husband, my sister, and I are very focussed right now on our parents, but I think more and more about what our lives will be like when we’re their age.
I pray we’ll stay in good health and able to care for ourselves. We’re doing everything we can now to keep those odds in our favour. But we don’t have a child who can be there for us if we need support the way we’re there for our parents, so our plans for the future must be shaped by this reality.
I keep seeing news articles about how the age demographic in the world is shifting, and that soon there will be many more older people than younger ones. I keep hearing about how worrisome this is, and how no one is sure how healthcare and social security resources will be distributed, among other things.
I worry about what will happen if we lose the ability to earn an income, and pensions and social security shrink or disappear because humanity has fallen off a demographic cliff. I wonder who we’ll call for help if we reach a point where we can’t care for ourselves, living a society where elder care systems will likely be stretched beyond their limits.
The last thing I want is to be a burden to someone, or for anyone to feel grudgingly obligated to care for me out a sense of duty or pity. I know a lot of parents share my feelings, but having worked in elder care, I know that many also wind up feeling grateful and relieved when their children step up and help when needed. I also know that being a parent is no guarantee that your adult children will be there, or be able, to support parents as they age. Some parents share our predicament, having no one in the “adult child” role who can be called upon to help.
I try to imagine creative solutions, like forming co-living situations with other friends who don’t have kids. I imagine a group of us living together, pooling our resources to pay for things like in-home carers and transportation. I picture us accompanying one another to doctors’ visits and, if any of us fall seriously ill, making sure they get daily visits while they’re in the hospital or rehab. I think about how we could use our combination of skills and experiences to enrich our collective lives and our ability to care for ourselves and each other.
I really like this communal living idea, but it’s not something I can plan for, not yet. My husband and I don’t know what our circumstances will be when we reach retirement, health-wise or financially. Especially in today’s world, it seems like everything is uncertain and anything can happen, so it feels like we’re going to have to wing it in a big way, making it up as we go along.
In that respect, given the times we’re living in, maybe we’re all in similar boats, if not the same boat, whether we have kids or not.
For now, I’ll keep doing whatever I can to support my parents, mother-in-law, and other loved ones of ours in their generation. And maybe I’ll also start planting seeds about my communal living idea, having conversations with friends who might be interested. It may be too early to act, but I suppose it’s never too early to imagine.
S.K.