Im thirty-nine, and for the first time in my life, I am admitting something that feels almost impossible to say aloud: I regret not having children. Its not that I didnt want to be a mother. I always waited for the right moment, the right man. For over fifteen years, I built relationships with the thought that if this man wasnt the one, then it wouldnt be fair to bring a child into the world. And so, I let time slip through my fingers.
My first long-term relationship began when I was twenty-two. It lasted nearly five years. We lived together, spoke of marriage, family, the future. But whenever I brought up the subject of children, he would change the topic. Hed say he wanted stability first, to travel, to save up, to really live before settling down. I adapted. Convinced myself there was time. When it ended, I told myself it was better not to have had a child in a relationship that wasnt working.
Then, I got married. I was twenty-nine, thinking this was the moment. But the marriage lasted less than three years. I discovered infidelity, lies, hidden loans. I left, childless, without obligations, feeling freebut with a hollow emptiness I couldnt explain. Again, I reassured myself Id made the right decision; after all, he wasnt worthy of being the father of my child.
At thirty-three, I found myself in another serious relationship. He wanted children, but not commitment. He wanted me to fit into his life, his schedule, his existence. When I spoke about creating an authentic family, he told me, when the relationship is ready. I left. Once again, I was alone, convinced my choices were rational.
Now, at thirty-nine, I have no children. No stable partner. I have a career, independence, my own flat. Yet some nights, when I return home, drop my handbag on the sofa, the silence feels heavier than ever. I watch my friends talk about schools, homework, vaccines, and teenage dramaswith all their challenges, I see something I dont have: someone who calls them mum.
Now, for the first time, I find myself thinking something I never dared before: I could have chosen to become a single mother. I could have stopped waiting for the perfect man and decided to raise a child on my own. I could have built my family differently. But I was so focused on doing everything right, that, in the end, I did nothing at all.
