Did you know that for the first time ever more than half of women aged 30 years in England are child-free? I came across that stat recently scrolling on TikTok, and later learned that women globally are delaying the birth of their first child, with the average age of first birth approaching 32 years in some countries.
It’s pretty obvious that things have changed. Just from speaking to older relatives or even parents, they’ll tell you that by 27 they were married, settled down and onto baby number three… For many daughters or granddaughters, those conversations are normally accompanied with a not so subtle warning about ‘not leaving it too late’.
Having given birth to my son in 2021 at the age of 27, I’m somewhat of an oddity. And it has felt that way at times. I look around the room and I’m the only one struggling to concentrate when we go out for coffee, either because my feral kid has decided to climb on the table, or even weirder, I’m child-free but so used to being distracted, I can barely remember how to focus on one person.
You're reading a snippet from our Lemon-Aid newsletter, a community for mothers, dads and caregivers packed full of unfiltered parenting reality, hacks and small wins - now with 50% off!
My way of feeling isn’t down to a lack of empathy from my child-free friends, they’re brilliant. But the parents club is an exclusive one, and you never really know how it feels to be inside until you sign up for a lifetime membership.
Conversations about having children are never far from the agenda, often they’ll say they’re not quite ready or maybe in a few years (which obviously I’ll assume is because I’m making it look like such hard work). My friends are acutely aware of their fertility. I’m not sure if it’s the age we’ve reached or a boost in awareness but stories about couples struggling to conceive resonate more these days. The ticking clock that makes timing it right near impossible.
For me, I’d say my education and career path probably sets me apart further. I went to university and have been proud to work as a journalist for the past nine years - in Cornwall nonetheless, where jobs in this industry are few and far between. But if I were to count the number of full-time working graduate mums under the age of 30 I know, I’d struggle to get into double digits.
When I fell pregnant I remember feeling uncomfortable about the fact that I’d be 27 for the first few months of my son’s life, before turning 28, which I know is ridiculous. But still, I worried, would people think I was too young? Was I too young? Would I regret cheating myself out of nights out and lie ins? Then I read about mucus plugs and the so-called ‘ring of fire’ and felt even more unprepared.
Luckily two years down the line (and thanks to an emergency C-section, I never had to experience the ‘ring of fire’) I feel totally at ease as a parent. My house is an absolute tip and I’ve come to accept it will never be tidy again but I love motherhood wholeheartedly.
I still find myself in a bit of a limbo sometimes, I can somewhat relate to, but don’t have the same life experience as, some of my older mum friends, who are a lot more confident than me and quite often have more than one child.
From what I hear, there are a number of positives to waiting till you’re older to have babies. Despite cringing at being referred to as a ‘geriatric mother’ you’ll have a deeper appreciation for your body, as well as a deeper desire to take care of it. There’s the obvious benefit that you can set yourself up to be totally financially secure too, meaning you’re in full control when navigating your return to work. The biggest, most unavoidable pressure however is fertility, it pays to be realistic and manage expectations but advancements in treatment and research do paint a positive picture.
I think I’ve learnt that there’s no perfect time. That if you’re waiting to feel ‘ready’ for kids, it may never come. There wasn’t a lightbulb moment for me - a day I woke up feeling responsible enough to look after another human being - sometimes I’m afraid I’m not capable even now but we muddle through, in our own way.
If you've enjoyed reading this column, take a look at our Lemon-Aid newsletter on Substack here.
