It was my birthday on Friday. I turned 30 years old. I’m not worried about aging in the same way that a lot of women are. I’m actually looking forward to having a face covered in lines and creases, and long grey/silver hair flowing down my back. I look forward to having a face that suits my wise, old soul, and a body that looks as fragile as it feels. But when I woke up on my 30th birthday, I rolled over to see my sleepy-faced fiancé who said “Happy Birthday” and kissed me sweetly, we could hear the cat meowing softly outside asking to be let in, and this one intrusive thought pushed its way to the forefront of an otherwise lovely morning; “Where are my children?”
30 is a landmark birthday and, as much as I love my fiancé and my cat, I should have been woken up by little people scrambling onto the bed and yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in my face at a ridiculous volume. I should have been presented with hand-made cards covered in glitter that gets everywhere for days, and a drawing of unrecognisable shapes that are obviously our happy family. But we don’t have children and, as wonderful as my birthday was, I felt their presence was missing.
I have wanted children since I was 16 years old. I feel like my purpose on this planet is to be a good mother. I never wanted anything else for my life and that’s part of the reason I was so late to make anything of myself. I didn’t want an education or a career, I only wanted to be a mother, so in stead of working hard at school and looking for a job, I spent the years looking for a man to father my children. Wanting to be a good mother though, I wasn’t going to settle for someone who was immature or unstable. I wanted to make sure that my child was given financial and emotional security.
By the time I was 25, I realised that men weren’t always reliable and most my age were still terrified by the idea of having kids. So I came to the conclusion that if I wanted a stable environment to have children in, then I’d have to create it myself. To do that, I would need a well-paid job that had a good amount of security and flexibility so that I could take time off when I needed to, to have and look after my family. To get a job like that I’d need a degree, so I went to uni.
During my time at Uni I met my afformentioned fiancé who just so happened to be mature, dependable and wants children, and we are going to have a family. But college and Uni took 5 years of my life, so here I am at 30 years old celebrating my birthday as a mother without children.
Hopefully, this will be the last one.