I’ve got a few days off this week and so have finally been able to catch up with some friends and family. It’s also given me more time than normal to catch my breath and reflect a little. Most of my friends with kids however are instead running around from show to show, attending carol concerts, and trying to buy presents at midnight. This comparison has caused me to reflect on how glad I am to be part of a DINK household.

What on earth is a DINK? It’s a term I’ve heard thrown around for a while and I finally asked Mr Girlymicro what it stood for. Apparently, it stands for: double income, no kids. There’s also DINKY, which stands for double income, no kids yet.

I wrote a while ago about how it felt to be childless in my 40s and to discover I couldn’t have children. At that point, I had come to terms with it as a reality. Now, in the year my niece would have become a teenager, I have to say I’m more than OK. 13 years on I have such a different view on the whole situation. Not only am I OK, but I have come to embrace and enjoy all the opportunities that have come my way, many of which would not be available to me if I was looking after the next generation. This post is not to revel in the stress of those who have a different path, but to share that there can be joy for those of us who are on a different journey.

It’s not them versus us

Too often when I post about being childless on social media, whether defending my right to still leave work on time or stating that my life still has value, I get a response that sets me up as if it’s the childless vs the parents. My claiming that people who are not parents still have the right to work life balance does not take away from the rights of parents to have the same. One group having value does not detract from the other. I think it’s an interesting societal artefact that we are set up as opposites, when really we are nothing of the sort. It is not ‘Them vs Us’. It is about an appreciation of difference and recognising  the challenges and impacts on everyone’s lives of the decisions we make. I can want to have my life recognised as ‘of value’ without asking for someone else to have theirs diminished. 

My friends with children are a brilliant and an important part of my life. Being the fun aunt is important to me. My wonderful colleagues who have children absolute deserve to have allowances made so that they can be present and involved parents. I love hearing about the activities of their kids, their lives, and seeing the pictures. On the rare occasion I also need to leave on time to see my family, they are brilliant about ensuring it happens. I hope they feel I support them in the same way. This positioning of ‘Them vs Us’ isn’t real and if 2023 has taught me anything, it’s not to feed the trolls, so let’s see and value each other.

I have found my joy

I work hard. The days are long, and I’m often pretty tired and worn thin. I think there was a certain level of work for distraction for a while, but an awareness of using it to avoid processing has enabled me to face some things head on. As 2023 draws to a close, it’s turned out to have been a year of some amazing highs. 2022 in fact, also had some particularly rocking moments. There were some great professional wins brought about by all that work, which I’ve been forced to acknowledge would never have happened if I’d had to split my focus. I also had some truly wonderful times with Mr and mummy Girlymicro and some great friends, many of which would have been harder or more complicated if we’d had children. Sunsets, cocktails, and shopping would have just been more complicated. I experienced pure and unadulterated joy in just being in these moments. In the freedom, we have to just book a weekend away on a whim. Freedom that being a DINK household gives us that we would be unlikely to have otherwise. Joy that has become uncoloured by the ‘What Ifs’ that had previously removed some of the shine. Learning to live in and for these moments without looking back.

My life has value

One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced in moving forward is the unwritten societal expectation. I don’t know whether it is unconscious evolutionary pressure or a societal construct, but there is a perception that somehow your life has less value as you are not contributing the future by having children. That’s not to say that it all comes from other people. A lot of this is something we put on ourselves. It is not helped by people feeling like it is OK to make you justify your decisions at every point. You can’t have children? Why don’t you adopt? Have you considered IVF? Have you researched trying via a surrogate? To which I have a tendency to want to scream back ‘Oh no, I never considered any of those things. I’ve never lied awake at night running through my options. It just never occurred to me to research and find out more. Thank you so much for changing my life by enlightening me that there are other options!’. All of these conversations, whilst driven from a place of support, just reinforce the fact that no kids = no value.

Let me tell you now what I tell myself every day. I have value. It may not be in the same way, but my life is valuable, my contributions are valuable, and although different, I am still contributing the future of humankind.  I feel like I contribute professionally, but also by supporting friends with their families. Recognising this contribution in myself means that I now feel empowered to put more boundaries around my life to protect it and to respect that value. I am trying to leave work on time. I’m trying to not work weekends. I’m trying to find time for contributions that mean something to me and which I believe matter, like this blog and being a visible woman in STEM. If I don’t do it, how can I role model that for others, and how else can we have conversations about how to change some of the perceptions about value and childlessness.

I refuse to feel guilty

I’m done apologising. I’m done apologising if I need to put my life first some times. Now, I’m not talking all the time. We all have to be team players. I am, however, done with throwing myself over the metaphorical ledge in some perverse form of self flagellation for something I had no control over. I am also done with being made to feel guilty in conversations where I talk about my life and my opportunities. Yes, I get to go on holiday to New York and shop because I’m not paying out a crazy amount of money in nursery fees. I’m not going to hide it because I get to do something someone else can’t. In the same way, I embrace people showing me pictures of their kids, even if I can’t have any. Their children are an important part of their lives, and I care enough to be interested. The way I feel about lunch at Serendipity III in New York and the fact it featured in one of my favourite movies with my sister has meaning for me. Things are meaningful for different people in different ways, thus is the joy and variety of life.

I’ve heard the phrase ‘Not everyone is cut out to be a parent’ said to me a few times in recent years from a variety of sources. This is almost always linked to conversations about activities in which I’ve embraced my childless existence. The first few times, it really stung, almost as if it was a way of saying that if I’d been able to have kids I would have been a bad mum. It made me pretty unhappy that it was OK to throw around that kind of judgement. The more I’ve heard it though, the more I now see it as a sign that I have genuinely grown to be comfortable with who I am now. My identity is now so OK with my childless state that I am also OK with talking about the pieces of motherhood I would have found challenging, about being open with who I am to others. Although, if you feel like saying these words, probably best to discover how they might be taken before you do. Six years ago, the response may not have been so open and embracing of the conversation.

Embracing the life we’re given

Becoming comfortable with who you are, whether you have just encorporated grief into that identity or not, has been the first step in giving myself permission. Permission to make choices that work for me, permission to be happy, permission to draw boundaries, and if needed permission to stay in the bath soaking for 3 hours with tea and an audiobook.

Embracing the life I lead, rather than some sort of societal expectation or perception of the life I should lead, has completely changed how I make choices. Being aware of my privilege in getting to make those choices makes me value them even more. In one week this year, I got to go to the King’s Coronation and Eurovision. My life is pretty epic, and none of that is defined by whether I have a child or not. It’s defined by the choices I make to lead me down wonderful and unexpected pathways and filling my life with love through the people I make the journey with.

Never looking back

I’m done with ‘What Ifs’. If you are looking back all the time you can’t truly look forward. I’ve embraced the road that led me here but I’m not defined by it. It’s just a part of who I am, not the whole. It is all too easy to be haunted by the past, especially if  the reality of that past was that we had no control over the events. This can lead to a sense of disempowerment and a feeling that we lack agency from that moment forward. At some point, to regain a sense of control, you have to have some hard conversations with yourself about what that control looks like. For me, it’s about waking up every day and consciously choosing to embrace my now. To see the future as filled with possibilities rather than filled with ghosts of a future that will never be. I no longer have a crick in my neck from looking back, and I’m OK with that.

Travelling the road less travelled

So join me, whether your circumstances are driven by choices out of your control or not, in embracing the road less travelled. Join me in committing to being braver in facing up to uncertainty, reality and in having difficult conversations with ourselves when needed in 2024. We don’t know where the doors we open by these acts of bravery will lead us, but I can almost guarantee it will be unexpected. Your journey doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. It’s uniquely yours, and that is the joy of it!

All opinions in this blog are my own