Every time I visited my grandparents in the village, pushing the pram ahead of me, I’d hear whispers behind my back: “That’s Katie, the one who got pregnant, you know—granddaughter of Rose and Stephen. Shame, really, raising a child all on her own.” Village gossip spread faster than wildfire. It grated on me, but I never responded. Nan would always say, “Don’t pay them mind, love. They chatter because they envy your courage to live life your own way.”
The choice that changed everything.
I was 24 when I found out I was expecting. The father, my boyfriend at the time, made it clear he “wasn’t ready for this.” I didn’t beg or plead—I knew I could manage alone. In London, where I lived and worked, nobody pried into my business. But the moment I returned to the village to stay with Nan and regroup, the whispers began. Neighbours muttered, aunties on the bench outside the shop exchanged knowing glances, and some even asked outright, “Katie, where’s your husband? Or is this one of those modern arrangements?”
I refused to justify myself. No, I wasn’t married. Yes, I chose to raise my child alone. And no, I wasn’t ashamed. But villages have their own rules—everyone knows everyone’s business, and if you don’t fit their idea of a “proper life,” expect judgment. Thankfully, Nan and Grandad stood by me. “A baby’s a blessing. The rest is nonsense,” Grandad would say, while Nan added, “Your happiness is what matters. People will always find something to gossip about.”
A new life, new challenges.
After my son, Alfie, was born, I returned to the city. Life as a single mum wasn’t easy—work, nursery, bills, sleepless nights—but I never once regretted my choice. Alfie’s my joy, my purpose. He’s growing up bright and curious, and I make sure he wants for nothing. These days, I visit the village less often, but the stares still follow me. The difference is, I’ve learned to shrug them off. Sometimes I even smile when someone remarks, “Still on your own, Katie?”
Nan once told me, “Back in my day, things weren’t so different. I had your mum without a husband, and we managed just fine. Don’t let anyone’s words break you.” That became my motto. I realised I owed no one an explanation. My life is mine, and I’ll live it as I choose.
What I’d say to others.
I’m 27 now, and happy. Sure, it’s hard sometimes, and yes, I get tired, but I’m proud to raise Alfie on my own. If you ever face judgment, remember—other people’s opinions are just noise. They don’t define you. Live for yourself and those you love. As for the gossip? It’ll fade once they find something new to chatter about.
If you’ve been through something similar, how did you handle the criticism? Or do you have advice for dealing with nosy questions? I’d love to hear your stories.
