Oprah Winfrey, Tracee Ellis Ross and Helen Mirren have all spoken candidly about choosing not to be mothers, but the lesser-heard voices are from those who are childless, but wanted to be mothers.
Questions about why you don’t have children can be intrusive. For some women, this is upsetting, while others take a more relaxed approach to such personal inquiries.
‘I’m always amused in social situations when I’m invariably asked if I have children,’ says Alison, 52, who is childless because of fertility issues. ‘The amusing part is the awkwardness that follows, or the ‘permission’ that people give me when they respond with, ‘Oh that’s OK’.’
‘For me, it’s nobody’s business whether it was a choice or circumstance, but my husband usually says, ‘No, unfortunately we don’t have children.’ Alison reflects.
But for many, the grief of childlessness is difficult. Dr Tara Wyne, clinical psychologist and clinical director for The LightHouse Arabia, says that many women ‘have held lifelong dreams and narratives of them as mothers and they will grieve as they let go of these’
A genuine grief
When she acknowledged at the age of 45 that she would never have a child, Farah, 49, says her grief was ‘staggering’. This was a combination of marrying in her 40s, and a husband not keen on fatherhood or trying assisted conception.
‘I’ve never felt a wave of utter despair like it, knowing that I would never know what it felt like to have a baby or breastfeed,’ she recalls.
After marrying at 34, Eloise, 50, and her husband tried to conceive straight away. They experienced ‘a rollercoaster’ of tests, multiple IVF attempts, and miscarriages: ‘By the time they had figured out that I had overactive T-cells, blood that clots too quickly, a bicornuate [irregularly shaped] uterus and poor egg quality, six years had passed.’
‘Ineffective, commercially driven fertility clinics and a real dearth of clear information about our options meant that once we finally knew what the issues were, I’d put my health, marriage and finances through the wringer and any slim opening in the window of opportunity had closed.’
Eloise, 50
She says that ‘ineffective, commercially driven fertility clinics and a real dearth of clear information about our options meant that once we finally knew what the issues were, I’d put my health, marriage and finances through the wringer and any slim opening in the window of opportunity had closed.’

Eloise was 42 when she last attempted IVF before ‘drawing a line in the sand for the sake of my health and our marriage and finances.’ She says the acceptance process, ‘like grief, is not linear – I sometimes find myself back a few paces with known and unknown triggers and I’ve learned to avoid the known ones, such as events with lots of young kids or groups of ladies who are all mums.’
Dr Sabrina Suma, clinical psychologist at Dubai’s Human Relations Institute and Clinics, describes dealing with childlessness as ‘a real mourning process, not only because we have to process the loss of a child that we had thought, dreamed of and planned, but because we have to say goodbye to a part of us that is inevitably no longer there and we have to reinvent.’
‘As with grief there will be tasks and stages to encounter and, ultimately, they will always hold this pain within them and it may surface and revisit them as they move through life,’ says Dr Wyne.
Medical barriers to motherhood
Medical issues, whether it’s explained or unexplained fertility or conditions that are not compatible with pregnancy and birth, can leave women childless by circumstance.
In her thirties, Jayne, 59, was diagnosed with severe autoimmune illnesses, scleroderma and antiphospholipid syndrome. She has endured more than 40 operations, including a leg amputation, suffered multiple fractures, and she lives with respiratory issues, heart and kidney failure, poor circulation, brittle bones and skin problems.
‘Around the time I was diagnosed, I met my husband, Ari – when he realised how serious my illness was, he became adamant that he didn’t want me to risk becoming pregnant,’ she recalls. ‘I wouldn’t accept this – and I saw an obstetrician on my own, who encouraged me to try – but obviously it takes two to make a baby.’
‘I probably would have found it impossible to cope with practical parenting tasks – I have pretty much lost the use of my hands and am now wheelchair-bound, so I’ve come to realise it would have been impractical,’ Jayne says.
‘It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into a world when there are times where I cannot physically care for myself, let alone them, or give them the experiences in life that they deserve. The realisation was heartbreaking’
Kathy, 39, always wanted to be a mother, but when she was 17, a viral infection changed her life: ‘I was never quite the same again – I thought my fatigue, aches and pains were normal for someone studying and working, but in my early 20s, my body crashed, I lost sensation in the lower half of my body and became a wheelchair user – the profound fatigue left me housebound, needing round-the-clock care.’
Since then, Kathy has experienced relapses with her condition and in her early 30s, she decided that having children was not an option.
‘It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into a world when there are times where I cannot physically care for myself, let alone them, or give them the experiences in life that they deserve,’ she says. ‘The realisation was heartbreaking – I spent a long time exploring options and almost bartering with the universe to make my dreams and biological urges a reality, but I had to be realistic.’
Dr Wyne says ‘Irrespective of the medical advice and failures to achieve their goal, women may be unable to accept or process this reality.’
Her advice centres on the need for a grieving period and mindset adjustment, especially after unsuccessful fertility treatment or a medical diagnosis: ‘This sets the stage for exploring other parts of themselves, getting to know who they are now and what else can give a sense of purpose and meaning.’
Relationship pressures and the role of partners
Meeting a life partner after the most fertile years have passed, unhealthy relationships, marrying someone who already has children, or falling in love with someone who does not want to be a parent can all contribute to missing out on motherhood.
Maya, 54, says that because of a traumatic childhood, she did not think she was equipped to raise healthy children until she was in her mid-30s. By then she was ‘in a rocky marriage with a man who did not want children’ and was divorced by 40.

‘I eventually married a man with three adult children, so I am getting to experience some grandparenting, which helps, although it is not the same as raising your own children,’ she says.
For Charisse, 49, being let down in a relationship was the catalyst for childlessness. Her ex-husband ‘moved the goalposts’ by telling her he did not want a family after they had been trying to conceive for a year and she had undergone painful fertility tests: ‘I was 34 at the time, we’d been married for 12 years, so I thought we were in a good place, but when the doctor suggested he get tested, the barriers went up – this led to the breakdown of communication and eventually the marriage because he’d broken my trust.’
Dr Wyne says that partners should ‘play a crucial role’ in the journey to accepting childlessness.
‘They can bring their objectivity and challenge the shaming and failure narratives,’ Dr Wyne continues. ‘Partners can be holding spaces for the grief and sadness, encourage change, the pursuit of new paths together, and the forging of a new collective vision for the future.’
Dr Suma agrees that partners are important, especially when a couple receives a diagnosis of infertility. She says that men can experience the same feelings of guilt, anger, confusion and helplessness as women, and they should both share their feelings ‘in an authentic way’ to overcome what can be a real relationship crisis, adding that couples therapy can be helpful.
Moving Past Being Childless
All seven women have found paths through the grief and disappointment that comes with being childless by circumstance.
‘As part of moving forward and accepting being childless, I had to stop being embarrassed and a failure, stop feeling guilty and, more importantly, stop thinking ‘what if’
Farah
‘The week I separated from my first husband, I began counselling with a therapist – I specifically set a goal of learning how to live a life without children – I knew I would eventually recover from my divorce by finding love again, but that I would experience the loss of not being a parent over and over again, so I wanted to confront that grief head on,’ says Maya.
‘As part of moving forward and accepting being childless, I had to stop being embarrassed and a failure, stop feeling guilty and, more importantly, stop thinking ‘what if’,” says Farah. ‘I found Facebook groups for childless women, as well as grief counselling, which helped me come to terms with not having offspring.’
Finding fulfilment through other relationships with children, such as being an aunt, godparent or step-grandmother, has been especially important to Maya, Farah, Jayne and Kathy.

‘I delight in seeing my two beautiful nieces and many godchildren – there is a lot of joy to be found from these roles, and they don’t risk devastating the life of the children if I die when they are young,’ says Jayne.
Kathy was married to a man who already had two children, so she experienced parenthood as a stepmother. She now has an active role in the lives of her niece, nephew and a number of her friends’ children: ‘I have redirected the love I had in my heart for mothering to children in my life in different guises.’
All women have been able to acknowledge that there are benefits to being child-free, which they have come to appreciate.
‘I enjoy my lie-ins, my nights out without restriction, and living in a home that was designed around my comfort, rather than being child-proofed,’ enthuses Charisse. ‘Some might say that’s selfish, but now I’m almost in my 50s I can’t imagine a child in my life, and I’ve come to realise it was never on the cards for me.’
Eloise says that while she occasionally gets upset, she reminds herself how grateful she is that the relationship with her husband is stronger than ever and for the lifestyle they have without children, which is often envied by friends who are parents.
Alison agrees that opportunities that have opened up by not having children helped her move on, such as trekking in Nepal when she took long service leave from her job, being mortgage-free and financially secure: ‘Our lives would look very different if we’d managed to have children.’
‘As in all moments of trauma, as the psychiatrist Van der Kolk teaches, the best thing to do is not to lose the routine, not to give in to sadness and passivity,’ advises Dr Suma. ‘It’s important to react, to keep doing the things we did before, it’s important to continue our lives – time and our choices will do the rest.’