Sorry I'm Not a Mom. Please Don't Call the Authorities.

Finding fulfillment beyond motherhood in a world obsessed with one definition of happiness

I honestly can't even remember the first time someone asked me when I wanted to start having kids.

They'd tell me I'd be a great mom as they'd see me with my nieces. Luckily, the question seems to be dying out from those who know us well, as our answer has remained consistent over the years.

Carrie Bradshaw standing up for childless women everywhere. Credit: HBO

Motherhood is often described as 'a love like no other'—a unique, transformative experience that changes you forever. I believe them completely. I've witnessed this love through my own mother (even though shortened by breast cancer), through friends, through sisters who became mothers and were forever changed by it.

But what if I told you there are other loves just as fierce, just as world-shaking, just as life-affirming? Different paths that aren't better or worse—just beautifully, wonderfully different?

Love that looks like a partner who brings you water before bed. Love that curls up at your feet in the form of four wildly different dogs. Love that shows up in nieces' laughter, best friends' birthdays, a quiet Sunday morning in your own house with no agenda and all the coffee.

I haven't experienced motherhood. I don't claim to understand what that feels like. And I can't take that away from all the mothers (in all forms of motherhood, biological or chosen). But honestly? I don't need to — because there's an old saying that's always stuck with me: You can't miss what you never had.

Now before anyone gets defensive, let me say: I believe you when you tell me that your love for your child is the most powerful thing you've ever felt. But what I don't believe is that it's the only kind of love that gets to count. And don't get me wrong. I do not think anyone is telling any of us that either.

Well…unless you're Kyra, of Kyra and Chuck, the character who invites Carrie over to celebrate the birth of their third child.

Cue the Sex and the City episode (Episode: A Women's Right to Shoes) that lives rent-free in my brain. Carrie goes to a baby shower, her Manolos get stolen, and when she dares to be upset about it, she gets shamed for spending that much on shoes — and for basically living a life that doesn't include a child. But guess what? That was her choice. And that's enough.

Honestly, I know the U.S. is weird about not removing their shoes in the house (cue the Buzzfeed article that lives rent-free in my head), so I get why Carrie was hesitant to remove her shoes. And as someone who also believes her shoes will complete an outfit, I would also be bummed about having to ruin the 'look' to abide by removing my shoes. However, I'm digressing.

So, let's flip the script.

Here's what I didn't miss out on by not having kids and what I gained instead:

• Quiet mornings with coffee and a husband who makes me laugh

• That Tuesday we decided to take an impromptu RV trip with the dogs across the mountains, with no diaper bags or bedtime routines

• Nieces and nephews who light up my world and still think I'm cool (for now)

• A house that belongs to me — cluttered, cozy, quiet (and not kid-proof)

• A life built on my own terms, full of career pivots, dog rescues, and grief work

• Buying things I want to buy rather than having to save for college: Charlotte Stone heels to fulfill my Carrie Bradshaw mismatched shoes look or my favorite Missoma jewelry

None of it is less-than. It's just different.

And while I've chosen to be childfree, that doesn't mean the road has been free of grief.

I've felt left out. I've had moments where I wondered if I was wrong. If I was missing something. I've gone back and forth wondering if I was making the wrong decision. Sometimes I wonder: if I chose to have a child today and got pregnant in the next 6 months, how old would I be when the child turns 18?

And then I remember: Oh! I love my life just the way it is! I like waking up when I want to wake up on the weekend. I like spending my Saturdays choosing whatever it is I want to do, and the same with Sundays.

I like being able to plan vacations by just thinking about what my husband and I want to do.

But I've also found clarity. I've found peace. I've found joy in unexpected places, such as 2 AM conversations with friends across time zones, or the freedom to drop everything for a last-minute dinner date with a friend. I've discovered love in all the spaces that society tends to overlook: in the community I've built of fellow childfree friends who understand me completely, in the volunteer community where I can pour my energy, in the deeper connection with my husband without the strain of parenting, and in the ability to be fully present for all the events and moments without divided attention. These joys aren't lesser alternatives to parenthood. They're just different paths to a fulfilled life that's authentically mine.

Because the real travesty isn't my childfree life. It's the societal obsession with everyone living the same version of fulfillment, rather than choosing what they see as a fulfilled life.

The childfree life has become a conscious reckoning over the past 20 years, as more people question whether having children is truly for everyone. I've had friends admit that the thought of not having kids never even crossed their minds. It was just assumed as the default path.

And can we talk about how awkward and strange it is that complete strangers feel entitled to opinions about our reproductive choices? The grocery store cashier doesn't ask about our retirement plans or career goals. But somehow, asking when we're going to have kids is considered perfectly acceptable. It's as if inquiring about our reproductive timeline is just normal chit chat or acknowledging some presumed obligation we all share as members of society.

Why is this one deeply personal choice considered public domain when so many other life decisions remain private? Aren't there three things that we are never supposed to bring up at the dinner table: financials, religion, and politics? Why not we just add in reproductive choices as the fourth item not up for discussion.

Yet many choose parenthood because they feel it's expected of them - whether to please a partner or parent, to satisfy a biological urge, or to avoid feeling isolated in our pro-children society. And while parenthood can bring out incredible strength and love in people, it's also true that not everyone thrives in this role. We've all seen situations where many involved might have been happier with different choices available.

This isn't about judgment. It's about honesty. It's about creating space for people to make the choices that truly align with their hearts, not just their social obligations.

So why are we collectively obsessed with pushing a life path that clearly isn't right for everyone? Perhaps it's time we expanded our definition of a meaningful life beyond the boundaries of parenthood.

It's more than okay to want something else in your life besides children—it's valid and worthy. Finding fulfillment in your creative pursuits, building a career that excites you, dedicating yourself to causes that change lives, nurturing relationships that sustain you, or simply creating a peaceful existence that brings you joy—these aren't consolation prizes for the childless. They're legitimate paths to a life well-lived.

We get one precious life here on Earth. One chance to wake up each day and choose what matters to us. One opportunity to define fulfillment on our own terms. The truest act of courage might be listening to your own voice above the chorus telling you how that life should look.

Make it worth it. Make it yours.

Childfree doesn't mean love-free. And it definitely doesn't mean less-than.
My life may not have a nursery. But it's full—of joy, of love, of purpose.

Maybe I didn’t lose a pair of designer shoes at a baby shower, but I’ve gained a life that fits just right—and honestly, that feels like the real luxury.

No apologies needed. No authorities required.

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