The decision of whether or not to have children can be a difficult one for many women. Photo / Getty Images
The decision of whether or not to have children can be a difficult one for many women. Photo / Getty Images
Isabeau Brimeau is a London-based Kiwi freelance writer and advertising professional
OPINION
Being single in your 30s is liberating, confusing and on the odd occasion a little bit soul-crushing.
In the past year I’ve gone through another breakup (yes, another), I’ve seen my best friend’s little sister (essentiallymy little sister) get married and announce she’s pregnant, seen my ex-boyfriend of six years at said wedding – plus met his fiancé who is annoying perfect for him – and I’ve had two of my closest friends announce they’re also pregnant.
Does indecisiveness at my age mean that I probably don’t want one, ever?
Or does it mean that I haven’t let myself want one? Maybe I haven’t found the right man?
Haven’t figured out where I’d like to live? Haven’t figured myself out yet? Who knows? Certainly not me.
During my 20s, when I was with my long-term ex-boyfriend, I had resided in the fact that if we were together forever, I would indeed bear his children.
He loved children. And I loved him.
He was an uncle, and he was damn good at it.
While I was the awkward aunty who didn’t really know how to hold a baby and found the kids cute until they had a meltdown (after which I became a stunned mullet), I assumed that over time I would become clucky and the thought of having our own tiny tots would be heaven on earth.
Instead, the thought became tortuous as the relationship started to disintegrate before my very eyes. How were we supposed to raise children together when we barely enjoyed living a life together?
Isabeau Brimeau is in her 30s and weighing up her decision whether or not to have a baby.
That chapter of my life came to a slow and painful halt, and I moved into my fearless and fun era, leaving all thoughts of marriage and babies in the past.
Well, more out of sight than out of mind. Over the next few years, I began to wonder how much I wanted children and how much I thought I wanted children, when in reality it was to appease someone else.
It seemed that the men I was meeting, dating and falling in love with all really wanted children. But did I?
In my mind I wasn’t ready for children. I had just gained back my independence and there was suddenly so much I wanted to do and see.
If I wasn’t going to give those things up for a man, then I wasn’t going to give them up for having a baby. Not yet anyway.
During my travels, and my relocation to London, I basked in my singleness, my without-baby-ness. I was ‘camp no babies’, happy to live out the rest of my days visiting new places, meeting new faces and enjoying celebratory margaritas wherever I went.
I began to meet more like-minded people who were either on the fence or leaning towards a life of no procreation.
The reasons ranged from sustainability-focussed or the-world-is-a-messed-up-place to stronger feelings of discomfort at the thought of having a mini version of themselves.
I found the conversation of children interesting with women aged mid-20s to mid-30s and realised there were more females than I’d expected who weren’t sure where they stood on having a family.
But it seemed like the women who wanted babies really wanted babies.
For someone that has always prided themselves on being maternal, and loves looking after people, why did I not desire to have a little apple of my eye?
During my first years in London, I dated a couple of men with different levels of keenness for children, but each certain that they would like to become a father at some point.
One relationship lasted longer than the others and, for a man who still had some rather apparent troubles from his own upbringing, he was quite vocal on wanting children.
One drunken and rainy evening, during a seaside getaway, I mentioned my uncertainty of procreating, over a plate of Pad Thai and our second bottle of Prosecco.
His tone sharpened as he asked me if this was something we should have discussed earlier.
My answer was something along the lines of “I’m not saying I’m a ‘no’, I just don’t know yet. But I also can’t promise that I will one day be a ‘yes’”.
And that was the truth, I was certainly retreating from being in ‘camp no babies’, but I still had one foot in the tent and the other was trying to find the ground somewhere in the land of the unknown.
In the months following that conversation – and ultimately that breakup – my life became flooded with baby news.
Those dear friends are all well and truly on their way to becoming mothers, one of them being my best friend.
Never have I been so excited about the thought of a child entering the world. In the 18-odd years that I’ve known her, she’s always wanted to be a mother.
And what a wonderful mother she will be. When I tell you I am fizzed to be an aunty, I am not telling a word of a lie. I already love that wee cherub more than I could have ever imagined.
But has it made me want a child of my own? It crosses my mind a little more these days and I have these moments of ‘wouldn’t it be nice?’.
Yeah, maybe it would. When I was home over summer, my best friend and I went to Baby Bunting to look at prams. I wandered around looking at all the necessities and accessories for a baby, and while the teeny clothes stirred up some emotion deep within my soul, I mostly felt overwhelmed.
There was no yearning, no brooding, no sadness that I wasn’t anywhere close to having a baby. I just felt overwhelmed.
There is a part of me that wonders if perhaps my lack of maternal desire is linked to one of my darkest worries: That I’ll never find someone that I love enough to create a family with.
But that’s a story for another day, one that’s probably best covered off with my therapist.
I guess you could say I’m still in the ‘exploration phase’ of what my family picture will look like. I’m not ruling it out, but I’m also aware that I have the same all-consuming desire for a dog (specifically a spaniel) that most women my age have for a baby.
So, in a very non-committal conclusion, right now, I’m still figuring my baby goals out.
