Wendyl Nissen: Womanhood not about being mum

Many of us, like me, chose to do both - motherhood and career - why not? Photo / Thinkstock

Why would you have kids interrupting your life in this day and age? Having it all can mean having no children.

For centuries the role of mother was synonymous with womanhood. There was little else a woman should or could do except have children and keep the species going. Her role was clearly defined as a breeder and carer of her husband and children. A job, as any mother will tell you, which is all encompassing, always challenging and very often exhausting.

But since the feminist movement gave women the right to work, our roles have been expanded. Many of us, like me, chose to do both - motherhood and career - why not? Make the most of your freedom and right to choose. But, as I slowly emerge from 27 years of combining career and motherhood, I have to ask why would you?

As a supportive wife, clearly I should devote myself to motherhood and caring and give up the career. Or, perhaps, in these modern times a woman could simply say no to motherhood and choose a career instead. And it would seem that is what women are doing.

New Zealand's birth rate is decreasing slightly. We had 225 fewer births in 2012 than we did in 2011 but in America the birth rate is at an all-time low with a decline of 9 per cent.

Time magazine recently ran the cover story "The Childfree Life - when having it all means not having children". The cover picture is of a happy, relaxed couple lying on a beach. A picture designed to make every stressed-out mother green with envy. When you have children beaches mean sticky sunblock, buckets and spades, blow-up toys and the stress of being a lifeguard. Lying on the beach? Forget it.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't had moments as a mother when I looked at my childless friends and felt not just jealous, but damned angry. Their freedom to pop out for drinks with friends on a whim, have the money and free time to plan and enjoy a romantic holiday for two somewhere idyllic, the clean home to return to, just the way you left it, not looking like a childcare centre during playtime. To decide just to have some toast for dinner instead of having to cook a nutritionally sound meal every night. To sleep in, sleep out, sleep at all. To use your washing machine only once a week instead of every day. To spend a whole weekend on the couch watching box sets and not getting out of your pyjamas.

I was one of those girls who never intended to have children, or get married, for that matter. I didn't play with dolls; instead my best friend's grandmother has a tape recording of the two of us, aged 7, acting out our careers rather than playing Mummy and Daddy. She was an actress being interviewed by me, the journalist.

When family would visit with their adorable new babies I would show no interest in cuddling or cooing and actually referred to my cousin's new baby as a "slug".

But, miraculously, at the age of 23 my maternal instinct kicked in and that was it. I needed a baby. And by 24 I had one.

By 26 I had another, by 30 another and at 35 another. I cuddled, I cooed, I adored.

"Who would have thought it?" my mother is fond of saying to my children. "Never liked children, called them slugs."

As my youngest at 15 heads towards adulthood I often find myself in the unique position of preferring the company of our adult children to that of others. All that hard work has paid off with this bunch of funny, bright, wonderful human beings who pop around and light up my life. I feel enormously blessed to have them.

But, should any of my daughters decide that having children is not for them, I'll be their biggest supporter. Being a woman is not just about your womb and your fertility.

As a society we need to stop asking women when they're going to get pregnant or start a family. Instead, we should ask them how their job is going and where their next holiday will be.

Because whether she decides to be child-free or whether she is simply unable to breed, she is still paying taxes and being an active, contributing member of society. And, in most cases, a bloody good aunty to boot.