The bittersweet reality of being among growing cohort of childless women in their 40s

Perhaps you’ve been queried at a friend’s kid’s birthday party, a kid who knows you as ‘Aunty’ but who you don’t see regularly. You’re more used to being said friends once per month ‘let’s-pretend-it’s-the mid-noughties again’ night out go-to, a role you – with your comparative lack of responsibility – are happy to fulfil. Your friend is unused to having time for night-time socialising, expressing joy at the rarity of gambas pil-pil and a shared bottle of pinot; also checking her phone endlessly in case her partner messages about her young child’s bedtime antics or developing earache. You perfectly understand, you say, knowing you never will, not truly, not emotionally.

Now, there you are, awkwardly sipping prosecco at the kid’s birthday soiree, unsure if the gift you’ve bought your friend’s four year old is remotely suitable. You’re pleased at the invite, of course, as pals having kids has changed the nature of many female friendships – understandably - as your lives became so different, social groups changing, priorities shifting.

You’ve not always been a good friend, not realising how exhausted new mothers can be, failing to offer assistance. Other friends have assumed your childlessness means you’re unfussed about kids, perhaps don’t like them. The invites dry up, though not with any accompanying animosity. Other friends occasionally seem to find your child-free life confronting, regularly dropping ‘grass is greener’ assumptions about how easy your life is. This sometimes feels offensive. You try your best to remember: you make assumptions about their fulfilment too. None of us have access to the reality of others’ lives entirely.

At the party, rambunctious kids whirl about the garden while the parents natter. The mums – and some dads - are relieved so many adults are present. They can take their eyes off their young charges for a few minutes. The younger kids, many from one-child households, get quality interaction with older ones. There’s sunshine, cheeky prosecco, and the social development of toddlers. Happy days.

Then, an obvious question is posed by your friend’s new neighbour: “Which one is yours?” followed by the trio of intrusion: did you ever want? Did you choose? In an ideal world..?

Enormous shift under way

“Yes; not-really-but-kind-of; answering fully will play havoc with my word count” are my own answers, as part of the growing demographic whose childlessness is regularly under discussion. The question of why more women are foregoing motherhood, or are having fewer children isn’t trivial: an enormous shift is under way of social and economic importance. But for many women, answering that ‘why’ is personally difficult.

National Records of Scotland data released last week reveals Scotland’s birth rate has fallen to its lowest since 1855. Women are becoming first-time mothers at an older age, continuing a trend from previous years. Over half – 51.7 per cent - of births are to unmarried parents.

Cue, left-wing voices calling for more immigration to plug the gap caused by the resident population’s seeming incapability or unwillingness to replace itself. Cue, too, right-wing voices such as Matt Goodwin calling for “aggressive, pro-family” policies.

Behind it all, while it takes two to tango traditionally, it’s women’s behaviour under the spotlight.

There’s truth, and a lack of nuance, from both left and right on this issue. While highly opinionated on many things, on this I have to say: ‘solutions’ aren’t simple on a matter so fundamentally personal. While Goodwin came in for a great deal of flak from some for his use of the word ‘aggressive’, conjuring, as it cannot fail to, women being somehow forced or coerced into motherhood, he’s not wrong there’s scant policy-solutions for struggling families – though he appears more concerned for future effects on the economy, and potential cultural shifts caused by more immigration.

At 43-years-old, all I can go on to understand the stories behind the broad statistics is the blindingly obvious: even relatively middle-class friends, in two adult households, both working full-time in median income jobs, are struggling. Others, single mothers with a child under five and indecently absent fathers, cannot work more than three days a week as the cost of childcare is exorbitant. How we live now means the close-knit family structure, where a relative living nearby can easily assist, are things of the past for many.

More people going to university

All but one of my closest friends had their first – often only - child in their thirties, some in their late thirties, journeyed as we were through the ‘Education Education Education’ policies of New Labour, whereafter, as a perhaps foreseeable result of more people going to university, formerly non-graduate level jobs that don’t remotely require one, demanded, or at least preferred, applicants to have degrees.

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Competition is rife; rents unaffordable; social housing decimated by years of legislative short-termism then inadequacy; saving for a deposit to buy a house near impossible; security, certainty of any kind, feels miles off for many. It’s natural to want your child to grow up with stability. In an economy that requires two adults in full-time work to cover the basics of a modest family life, never mind one of any luxury, it isn’t a mystery why birth-rates are falling, or why women put off motherhood to a point where only one child is subsequently possible.

Behind the statistics, though, are tales of longing and heartbreak, relief at being ‘child-free’, or an odd mix of both when attending pal’s kid’s birthday parties. ‘Choice’ is complicated. That ‘ideal world’ is bittersweet to think about for many.