You’re Probably Offending Your Child-Free Friends When You Ask These Seven Things
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I’ve known that I don’t want to have children of my own since my early 20s. Even as a child, I would abandon dolls and get bored. I met my partner when I was 22 (I’m now 35), and every time we discussed having kids, we would both shrug and agree it’s simply not for us. No big reason, no big discussion, just that we’d both prefer to do other things. I am lucky that we’re on the same wavelength, and I’m lucky to have a big family: I have four siblings, and I’m a proud auntie of seven nephews and two nieces. I have a domestic life and home I love, I see a dog on my horizon, and I’m a writer who loves to travel and experience new things. My plate is full and overflowing with love.
Child-free people like me are all over the news at the moment. This is due to ongoing studies reporting that millennial women are having fewer children, but also due to off-the-cuff remarks such as J.D Vance’s dig at Kamala Harris and all “childless cat ladies” who are, apparently, living “miserable lives.” As for the research, a new study by Pew Research Center said the share of U.S. adults younger than 50 without children who say they are unlikely to ever have kids rose from 37 percent (in 2023) to 47 percent. The number of women who are child-free by choice is on the rise.
I recently read Instead, by Maria Coffey, a reflection on the adventures of a child-free life by a woman in her 70s. One passage made me stop, my heart beating like a drum. She describes a time when her husband was in an accident, and in that moment, she suddenly felt alone and longed for a shared adult child she could call for support. A flicker of “what if.” This was a headstrong woman who’d decided on adventure over kids and lived a bold, happy life, but she was having a little momentary kernel of self-doubt and sharing it with the reader.
Every human would be lying if they said they didn’t often have these moments of self-doubt, no matter how happy they are with their lives and the decisions they’ve made. That’s why insensitive questions like “What if you’re filled with regret?” and “What if you die alone?” stir up such emotion. Most of us are already thinking of all the worst-case scenarios anyway—and still, we must move forward and ultimately make the right decision for us. Having kids really isn’t for everyone.
Even though I am content with my decision (and more than that, I feel giddy and excited at a life ahead of me without children!), there are still certain conversations that feel awkward or unnecessary; there’s still a stigma floating in the air.
It’s worth mentioning that I’m writing from my perspective as being child-free by choice, whereas someone who is not child-free by choice (and might identify as childless) may have a totally different experience and outlook than mine.
Here are the things I’d happily never hear again:
1. “You’ll probably change your mind.”
In 2020, before I was “out” to my family and friends as someone who didn’t want kids, I did what a lot of writers do: I wrote a thinly disguised novel. My first novel, Olive, is about a young woman who doesn’t want kids and who feels on the periphery while all her friends are either mothers, pregnant, or trying. It can be a lonely place to be at times, when you are suddenly feeling alienated from one of the biggest milestones of your friends’ lives.
When I was promoting the novel, I remember one interview with a female host who said, waving her hand: “Oh, I thought the same when I was your age! I now have two beautiful children—trust me, you’ll change your mind.” It stings when someone diminishes your decision as being flippant or meaningless, and, of course, this response is more about that person trying to project their life onto you. When a woman tells you what they want, try and believe them.
2. “Who’s going to take care of you when you’re old?”
This is a popular retort and assumes that by having a child, you are guaranteed someone to look after you when you’re old. Obviously, that is the ideal situation, and I am, of course, going to look after my own parents one day, as my parents did for theirs. But this isn’t always the case. Kids can move away. People fall out. Things change. It also assumes you’ll be alone if you don’t have kids, which is shortsighted. There are so many ways to build a loving family-and-friend support network.
3. “How will you fill your time?”
A beauty technician in Sephora, who happened to be a mother of three, waxed and dyed my eyebrows recently. Making small talk as she hovered inches from my face, she asked me if I had kids. When I said that no, life with kids is not for me, she said: “Oh, no! I hope you have enough to fill your life with, because life is long!” I found this a strange thing to say, even though I understand how a mother of three kids might feel like the world would be an empty void without them. Life doesn’t feel that long to me, and plus, having things to fill my days is not a problem for me at all. Yesterday I spent five hours writing a new novel in my garden, going for an outdoor swim at my local community pool, making a new recipe, and calling a friend. There are so many things to see, do, read! Time flies, honestly.
4. “So you’re a career woman?”
I find this one condescending. I do happen to have a career I absolutely love and spend lots of time on, but I don’t like the assumption that I must have chosen not to have kids because I am career-obsessed. I have a beautiful, enriching personal life I enjoy, too. We don’t need to be put in such reductive either/or categories. We are many shades in between. Shock horror: It’s also possible to be a career woman and have kids!
5. “Do you not like children?”
Sometimes people assume I don’t like kids and don’t want to be around them. That I must be a grumpy cat lady who lives in a dark cave alone. I love children. I love how they encourage me to be more fun and playful. I love reading to my nephews. I love holding newborn babies. I want to make a positive impact on children’s lives—just in a different way. An auntie they can always call. Someone to give advice. Read them books. Buy fun presents. I believe aunties and godparents (or whatever you want to call them) play an important role in society.
6. “Are you going to freeze your eggs just in case?”
Such a personal question! This is something that I’m sure many women probably think about around a certain age, and it is an individual, personal decision, and it isn’t appropriate to ask. This question elicits a sense of panic and fear, which, for me, isn’t welcome. Again, it’s someone else projecting their fears onto you.
7. “Aren’t you worried you won’t experience true love?”
This has actually been said to me a few times now. It often feels like people are pitching having kids to me. They love their kids, so aren’t I worried that I’m missing out on a fundamental part of human life? A big, all-consuming love that I’ll never have? Women who have made the choice to not have kids are usually well aware of what they won’t have, but they are also very aware of all the things they do have. There are many, many different types of love you can experience in one lifetime, which include and aren’t limited to: sibling bonds, romantic love, close friendships, pets, and yes, even the love of your work or art. I don’t think it’s fair to assume that you won’t experience love. I won’t experience that certain type of parental love, but I’m okay with that.
What to say—or do—instead
In my opinion, it’s totally fine to ask if someone has kids or not. It’s often meant as a polite way to find common ground or be a conversation starter. But do take a beat if someone has shared something personal with you in response. Maybe they have chosen not to have kids, maybe they can’t have kids, maybe they simply say they don’t have them. Wait to see what they say and listen. Notice if they are vague or want to quickly move on. Read the room. Follow their lead.
When someone leaves a gap for me to share my story without any of the above questions, that’s when bonds are formed. Give people space. If someone mentions they love being an auntie or uncle, ask them about that.
I’ve had beautiful conversations lately with strangers, mostly mothers, who listen and hear me when I speak without invalidating my story. When someone listens, it feels like you are being understood, and, really, that’s all any of us want. When someone sees you for who you are, instead of projecting their life or worries onto you, beautiful connections can be found.
A final thought: Many friends of mine who are child-free by choice say they can’t wait until they get past the age when they can have kids, because then the questions will stop coming, and to me, that sounds like freedom.
For more of Gannon’s writing, follow her Substack newsletter, The Hyphen.
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