New Zealand’s birth rate has been steadily declining, meaning a growing number of the population are child-free. Three Kiwi women tell Sinead Corcoran Dye why they have rejected societal pressure and chosen not to have children. Plus, Lil O’Brien, Alie Benge and Kathryn van Beek, the editors of Otherhood: Essays on Being Childless, child-free and Child Adjacent - a collection of personal essays from New Zealand writers who don’t have children - tell Stephanie Holmes why the project is so important.
‘The reasons for and experiences around being child-free are so broad’
“We want Otherhood to be a safe space for people to rage, and be sad, or be like ‘I don’t have children and I bloody love it’,” says Lil O’Brien, one of the three editors of new essay collection Otherhood. “We hope that it helps to spark conversations about the joys – and the grief, or even the ambivalence – about having kids. To help break some taboos, to say that everyone’s choice is valid, and also to help make other people aware about the things others experience, or feel.”
The idea for the project came in 2022, when Kate Camp’s Spinoff essay, No Miracle Baby to See Here, was posted on Twitter. It was the final part of her full essay, Why Are There So Many Songs About Rainbows, detailing her experiences with IVF after discovering she had endometriosis. It resonated strongly with O’Brien and fellow NZ writer Kathryn van Beek, both of whom had been through their own unsuccessful IVF journeys.
”Petition to add this to @aliebenge3′s essay Mother Of about making peace with not wanting children, and creating an anthology (I would SO contribute)”, tweeted O’Brien, author of Not That I’d Kiss a Girl.
“Someone make this happen!” Benge, who is child-free by choice, replied.
With a deal from Massey University Press, the trio then put out an open call for essay submissions and were overwhelmed by the response.
“Selecting the essays was really tough,” van Beek said in an interview with Massey Press. “I think we each had a couple of personal favourites that didn’t make it into the final pages of the book.”
Another key part of the process was a crowdfunding campaign to ensure they could pay each essay writer a nominal fee for their work. “We were stunned by the response [to the crowdfunding],” Benge says. “By the end of the first day, we had half the money raised. I had a feeling this book would resonate, but it really hit me then how much it meant to people.”
“It was heartwarming to see how many people got behind it, but I guess we shouldn’t have been quite so surprised – there is a lot of emotion around this topic,” says O’Brien.
In Aotearoa the number of people who will never have children is growing – NZ’s birth rate was 1.64 births per woman in 2021, down from 4.24 per woman in 1960. But despite it being more and more common for people not to have children, it remains a somewhat taboo subject. Otherhood aims to push back against the narrative that being childless means their lives will be somehow “less than”.
In this edited Q&A, O’Brien, Benge and van Beek explain more about the book and what to expect from it.
What were the selection criteria for the essays you selected to include in Otherhood?
Alie Benge: We tried to include a wide range of experiences so everyone could see themselves represented in this book – because the reasons for and experiences around being child-free are so broad. A whole collection of essays from people who are stoked about not having kids wouldn’t be representative, nor would a majority of essays about infertility. There were essays we loved that didn’t make the cut, because that balance would be tipped.
Kathryn van Beek: An essay definitely got bonus points if it made us laugh or cry. Some we all agreed on, and some we had to arm wrestle over.
Lil O’Brien: Having multiple editors makes for a well-rounded collection. Every essay we got was a story worth telling, even if it didn’t make it into the book.
In the intro, you say you wanted to create a feeling of “being seen” for people without children. How successful do you think the book is in achieving that?
AB: We hope in reading about each other’s experiences people can find comfort and solidarity. We’ve had people message us to tell us they can’t wait to read Otherhood, and we’ve even had people we barely know take us aside to thank us profusely for creating this book, so we hope that’s proof that it’s hitting.
LoB: We’re already getting great feedback - one of our early readers said the book made her cry in Daily Bread (which we were very pleased about).
Otherhood is being released ahead of Mother’s Day in NZ. Was that a deliberate choice?
KVB: Oops, I didn’t actually realise this.
AB: It’s very typical “us” to not realise it’s Mother’s Day.
LOB: Whether it’s intentional or not, I think we can agree that it’s kind of perfect.
What strategies have you personally implemented to deal with Mother’s Day and the surrounding hype?
AB: I don’t have beef with Mother’s Day for myself, but as I’ve got to know people with diverse experiences, I’ve thought a lot about them on the day and how painful it must be. A company I get emails from sends out the option each year to opt out of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day promotions, which I think is a thoughtful approach.
KVB: Usually I’d say I might stay off social media … But this year, I think I’ll read our book!
Many submitted essays didn’t make the final cut. Will there be an Otherhood part two?
LOB: Otherhood feels like a beginning, but there is so much more to say about this topic. We could definitely fill a part two! But we might need to have a little lie-down first.
Do you each have an essay that resonates with you most?
KVB: If you asked me on a different day I’d have a different answer, because I love them all. But today I’m picking Hinemoana Baker’s Kingfisher because of the beautiful way she describes loss. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, Steff Green’s More Schlongs, More Cats is filled with brooding heroes and the strong-minded heroines who shag them.
LOB: What comes to mind is Alie’s essay, which she finished relatively late in the process, because she writes so well that both Kathryn and I were like ‘Damn, you write good’. I’ll also always love Kate Camp’s essay Why are There so Many Songs About Rainbows, which is the essay that kicked off the whole Otherhood project – it made me laugh, rage and think ‘I can’t believe she said that out loud.’
AB: Henrietta Bollinger’s essay Possible Names for Myself has always stuck with me. We were so thrilled when they submitted an essay, and the final line gets me every time.
Is the book also for people who do have children? If so, what will they get from reading the book?
KVB: Definitely. Some of our contributors are biological mothers – but they’re looking at motherhood through a different lens. Janie Smith writes about being an egg donor, Nicola Brown shares the often-overlooked experience of secondary infertility, and Linda Collins and Iona Winter write about bereavement. We didn’t expect to include essays like this when we embarked upon this project, but the book’s richer for it.
LOB: Let’s not forget that for a lot of people who have children, becoming a parent wasn’t straightforward, or easy. Nor is deciding whether you want to have children. Plus, nearly everyone has felt the pressure to have children, whichever way they ultimately went. So there’s something for everyone.
What advice would you give someone around responding to people who tell them they don’t have children?
AB: Don’t assume the person’s feelings about not having kids. Please don’t say “aww” or “there’s still time”. And please, for goodness sake, don’t tell them there’s no love like the love they’ll have for a child.
KVB: Don’t use the “do you have kids” question as an icebreaker. It puts people in the awkward position of wondering if they should explain their fertility journey or bereavement story to you.
Otherhood: Essays on Being Childless, child-free and Child Adjacent edited by Alie Benge, Lil O’Brien and Kathryn Van Beek, Massey University Press, RRP$39.99 is out now. The book’s editors and some of the contributors will appear at the Auckland Writers Festival, May 14-19. For more information and tickets visit writersfestival.co.nz
‘I don’t have any interest in spending my days doing kid things’
Amy, 37, Marketing manager, Auckland
I’ve never had a strong urge to have children, and this position was cemented when I separated from my partner six years ago. I’d thought I would marry and have children with him as that’s what everyone did. But over time, as more friends and colleagues had children, I saw what their lifestyle was like. Most didn’t seem very happy and lost their whole identity. And I don’t have any interest in spending my days doing the kid things that they have to do.
This had a huge influence on me because no one was selling me the idea of motherhood being absolutely fantastic – it looked really hard. And the idea of bringing up teenagers today with the impact of social media and mental health issues that can come with that seemed very challenging to me.
I’m single now so am not really in a position to have a child even if I wanted one – and I’m really reluctant to have one, particularly for environmental reasons. I wouldn’t want to bring a child into this world with war, conflict and climate change.
I also did not want to end up tied forever to the father of my children, if the relationship breaks up. That’s been really tough for some friends. Having a child can be great if you’re in a great relationship. If it’s an awful relationship, it’s another story.
While I don’t mind children, I prefer to see my friends without their kids tagging along, as I find if the kids are here at cafes, then it becomes all about them and we barely can talk. I like doing adult activities.
Years ago, when I was younger, I would have considered donating my eggs if there was payment involved. I know the reasons why NZ doesn’t want to pay people for eggs, but I feel like it’s such a huge decision; it’s pain and stress on the body so I think financial payment would encourage more to do it.
I do I think my parents would love to be grandparents and I feel guilty about that side of things sometimes.
While I’m never criticised to my face about my decision to be childless, I do feel it subconsciously - especially in the workplace. And in some previous jobs I’ve had, parents have received privileges and flexibility that non-parents do not receive. This is a common experience among childless friends too. I encourage employers to be fair - many child-free people have big family responsibilities too that just don’t involve children. Work from home and flexibility needs to be the same for all employees, not just parents.
I wouldn’t mind dating someone who has kids, as that’s most men these days in my age range, but I don’t really want to be a stepparent.
I am quite career-focused, and being child-free allows me to fully focus on my job, while many of my colleagues are distracted by their children and their responsibilities to them.
One thing I do think about sometimes is not having any family when I am a lot older. However, I am usually brought back to reality quickly - some of the loneliest elderly people I know have children, and many children live overseas or do not have great relationships with their parents.
And I don’t think fear of loneliness is a reason to have children. I think that’s a very selfish reason to have children in order to have them look after you when you’re old. But I do wonder what my “family” and “community” will look like when I’m older when my parents, and maybe siblings, aren’t around.
Being child-free has also affected lots of my relationships with my friends who have children – most of those friendships die out by the time the child is about 3 or 4. I prefer talking about adult things and doing adult things, so I find myself gravitating towards people who have no children. I feel a bit of grief when another friend announces they are pregnant with their first child - I am so happy for them but know the relationship will change. I suppose it is no different to when women become pregnant and have children, they gravitate towards mum friends as they have more in common.
I also sometimes wonder what it’s like for mums having all these “instant friends” in kindergarten groups, after school groups etc. Making friends as a child-free adult can be difficult.
‘My mum adopted me, and can’t understand why I won’t have kids when she tried so hard to’
Clara, 30, Government worker, Wellington
Growing up I always fantasised about getting married and having my own home, but children were never in the picture for me - living with both chronic endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome definitely confirmed this. Plus, I love my freedom and I think I’m actually too selfish to be a mother.
I’ve tried to become an egg donor to a friend through Fertility Associates but unfortunately my PCOS made it medically unsafe for me to do so, which I was absolutely gutted about.
I have very understanding friends, both with children and child-free, but it’s my mum that finds my choice the hardest. She couldn’t have children, so she adopted me. I think she struggles with the thought of someone not wanting children when she went through so much to try to have her own, then to adopt me. She always says, “oh well, when you decide to have children” and I get lots of other family members asking about it too.
My family openly questions my decision and asks me who will care for me when I’m old - but I just don’t think that’s a good enough reason to have a kid.
My husband and I have been married for eight years, and while we’ve always agreed not to have children, it’s a conversation that we revisit once a year or so to make sure that we are both on the same page.
But the minute we got married, people started asking us when we were going to have a child. I know people see it as the logical next step in life but for those of us who choose not to have kids it would be nice to see a shift of expectations in this area.
And because we don’t have children and aren’t budgeting for them, our lifestyle is definitely more relaxed and - dare I say - even a bit indulgent. We have a new-build home, a new car and several high-maintenance pets – and can afford to buy ourselves treats whenever we want. I can’t imagine being so financially settled if we added a child to the mix.
When I look ahead to the future, I think that my life will be full of travel, fun and relationships – while still getting to be a fun aunt figure to the kids I have in my life.
‘What if they turn out to be an asshole?’
Molly, 33, Pelvic floor physio, Christchurch
About 18 months ago I decided for sure I didn’t want to be a mother – and that came from my job. Working in pelvic health I see the true physical side to pregnancy and postpartum that a lot of women don’t see prior to trying for a family. Pregnancy joint aches can be debilitating. Birth can routinely be traumatic. And birth injuries can be lifelong - it can impact your ability to return to work, to be a parent, your romantic relationships, your ability to return to exercise ... the list goes on. And that’s just the physical.
I also don’t think I’d cope with the change in my identity, and that I’d potentially resent my child for this.
What also confirmed I was making the right decision for me was a podcast episode with US comedian Chelsea Handler talking about being child-free, and the idea that unless you’re completely sure you want kids, you shouldn’t have them.
She also spoke about how being child-free is a truly selfless decision because it allows you to give your time, energy and resources to people you love who are parents and need that support - and I love being able to support the people around me.
I also have an amazing toyboy boyfriend, but I’m very aware that once children arrive the majority of domestic tasks and emotional labour falls on the female in the relationship – along with the toll of parental leave and the gender pay gap.
I did consider having children in my 20s until I met him, but he seemed reserved about the idea so it went off the table.
I also don’t buy into people having children because they want family around them when they’re older. It’s a lovely sentiment, but what if your adult kid lives on the other side of the world, or hates you and cuts you off? What if they have a disability which means they can’t be there for you when you’re old? What if they turn out to be an asshole? There’s so many assumptions made in that reasoning for having children.
I’m also very lucky to know a number of women who are older than me and have not had children, and they live very full lives which has helped show me what child-free life could look like.
I like spending time with children, though, and provide childcare for my niece one day a week. And I would love to be an egg donor as I really feel for couples who would love to have children but aren’t able. Unfortunately, my weight means I don’t qualify.
I feel guilty when discussing my choice with a close gay friend who would love to be a parent because it would be a very difficult journey for them to do so - whereas I have the luxury of being able to have one if I did want.
It has affected other friendships too. Things change when someone has kids and I don’t think we should pretend they don’t. My friends with kids are less reliable, tend to be sick more often, and are never available at short notice. But I think my work has given me a lot of patience and empathy for the life that mums live - had I not been exposed to it I would probably be less sympathetic and understanding.
I do feel excited about the next 10-20 years when I can do the things that I want to without having to compromise. I can prioritise me and remain the main character in my story.
