A Non-Mom on Mother’s Day

5 minute read

So many of the articles written around the subject of childfree women on Mother’s Day feature phrases and words like “coping with”, “surviving”, “pulling through”. Certainly, for some women without children, the Hallmark holiday feels as stinging as a paper cut, and it is an occasion, like Christmas, which they long to celebrate but can only endure as long as they are without children. I suppose this is where the distinction between childless and childfree becomes relevant.

I am in the latter camp, so our annual celebration of mothers each spring has never made me feel upset, inadequate or confused about my decision not to have children. I’m fortunate to still have my own mother, so tomorrow will be, as always, all about her. Although she and I have very similar personalities, on the matter of children we differ hugely. She always wanted six children and has no regrets about bringing me and my five siblings into the world, despite the financial and emotional strain I know it cost her and my Dad – we weren’t an easy bunch to bring up. As I’ve written before for Heyday, I, on the other hand, never saw myself becoming a mother.

I do have lovely memories of Mother’s Day as a child though. It makes me smile when I think of me and my younger sister fumbling around the kitchen at the crack of dawn with a tray of tea and toast (we’d use a teapot for the day that was in it), which one of us would then carry shakily up the stairs to my parent's bedroom. They’d both smile, bleary-eyed as we entered the room delighted with ourselves, and in no way betrayed the fact that they’d much rather have had a couple of hours more sleep than burnt toast in bed.

Breakfast in bed, a box of chocolates bought with 10 pence saved from our weekly pocket money, and a carefully crafted card created under the direction of RTÉ’s Mary Fitzgerald on Anything Goes – this was our first foray into Mother’s Day gifting. Forty years on, tomorrow we’ll salute my mother with colourful bouquets and by making a gorgeous lunch and enjoying it with wine instead. The only loss I’ll feel is the absence of my Dad. His presence is missed at every family get-together.

Although I’ve read articles about women, whether childless or childfree, who feel excluded on Mother’s Day and resentful of an occasion that singles out one particular cohort of our gender, there’ll be no eye-rolling from me when I scroll through Instagram tomorrow and see all the cute crayoned cards gifted to my friends by their kids. Any day that celebrates women of one kind or another is a win for all women.

There is no them and us. I remember one particular episode of Sex and the City which irritated me for the very reason that it seemed to create just such a dichotomy. It was called ‘A Woman’s Right To Shoes’ and sees Carrie guilt her friend Kyra into buying her a new pair of Manolo Blahniks to replace those that went missing in said friend’s home. She does this by reminding her of the many engagements, wedding and baby shower gifts she’s bought for both Kyra and other friends over the years. Doesn’t she deserve something in return from ‘them’?

What a nonsensical notion. We each make our own choices, and while our peers should respect those choices, they certainly don’t have to compensate us for them. Every life decision we make comes with pros and cons. Motherhood brings hugs and hardship in equal measure I imagine. Similarly, a childfree existence has many freedoms but with it comes certain stereotypical perceptions – of a woman going against the grain, negating her responsibilities, or simply being a bit of a cold fish.

I admire my friends who are mothers, but I don’t envy them, and so I’m more than happy for them to have a special day that acknowledges all the emotional, mental and financial effort involved in raising well-adjusted children.

As a single, childfree woman, I don’t need or expect a card-giving occasion to act as a counterpoint to Mother’s Day. Anyway, isn’t that what International Women’s Day is for? It recognises all women and the contribution each of us makes to society and family in our very different ways.

Over the years I’ve questioned many things: the wisdom of my career choice, the prudence of my romantic relationships and the shrewdness of my decision to settle in Ireland, but I’ve never debated my decision not to have children. Often, it’s only when something is taken from us that we appreciate its true value – if the pandemic has highlighted anything it’s this – but even now at age 46, when the option of bearing a child is no longer realistic for me, do I feel any twinge of regret or even curiosity about the path I didn’t take, and which so many of my peers did?

Am I lucky or unusual? I don’t know. I risk sounding cold and heartless, I know, because the more acceptable narrative is to have struggled with and agonised over the dos and don’ts of it all. But not having children was as natural and comfortable for me as having them will have been to many of you. I feel about as left out on Mother’s Day as I do on Father’s Day. It’s simply someone else’s moment, not mine. And that’s okay.

So tomorrow I’ll celebrate my mother and all the other mothers I know and love. I’ll wish that those who hope or long for motherhood achieve it. I’ll also raise a glass to all the non-moms like me, because by midlife I’ve learned that there are opportunities throughout life for each of us to birth, nurture and mother many things, not just babies.

A Non-Mom on Mother’s Day

5 minute read

what do you think, dear reader? tell us in the comments below…

join the conversation

home · About · membership · store · Contact · terms · PRIVACY