I am 70 years old, and I have no children. At first glance, some might think that my life is incomplete or that I have missed out on something vital. But here’s the thing—don’t pity me. On the contrary, I feel truly happy with the path I’ve chosen.
I can hear the whispers behind my back, the judgment in their voices. “She must regret it,” they say, “She has no family of her own.” But they couldn’t be more wrong. I don’t regret a single thing. I never wanted to be a mother. It wasn’t a decision made out of spite or a rejection of the idea of family. I simply never felt the pull that others did. Instead, I embraced my freedom.
At 70, I look back on a life filled with rich experiences, incredible adventures, and the freedom to do exactly what I wanted, when I wanted. No diapers, no bottles, no children’s cries in the middle of the night. I don’t have to rush home to cook dinner for a family, or worry about school pick-ups, or feel the weight of responsibility that comes with raising children. And that’s not all. My life has been filled with moments of pure joy that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I have traveled the world, explored new cultures, met fascinating people, and learned more than I could ever have imagined. I’ve pursued hobbies, perfected skills, and taken risks that some might call reckless, but they made me feel alive. I’ve spent endless hours reading, painting, or simply sitting in a café watching the world go by without a care in the world. And I’ve had the luxury of making my own choices—without having to answer to anyone else.
The decision to remain child-free was one that came naturally to me. When I was younger, I watched my friends and family members navigate the ups and downs of parenthood, and I realized it wasn’t a life I wanted for myself. It wasn’t about not liking children—it was about recognizing that I had different dreams. Dreams that didn’t revolve around raising a family.
But for some reason, society has a way of making you feel less than, simply because you’ve chosen a different path. I’ve been criticized by well-meaning friends and family members who couldn’t understand my decision. “You’ll regret it when you’re older,” they’d say. “Who will take care of you?” They didn’t realize that my happiness wasn’t dependent on traditional milestones. I’ve built a life around what makes me happy, and that’s enough for me.
Of course, there have been moments of loneliness, especially when I see my friends with their children and grandchildren, laughing together. But I’ve come to appreciate those moments for what they are—beautiful glimpses into a world I chose not to enter, but that doesn’t mean I don’t celebrate it. I have my own set of rewards, my own joys. And they are mine alone.
There’s no manual for living a life without children. It’s a life that has its own unique challenges, but also its own unique rewards. I don’t have anyone to lean on when I’m old, but I’ve learned to be strong on my own. I don’t have the legacy of children, but I’ve created my own impact through the people I’ve met and the stories I’ve lived.
So, when people criticize my choice, I don’t take offense. I simply smile, because I know the truth—they don’t understand. But I don’t need them to. I’m happy, and that’s all that matters.