Childfree and not Ashamed.

A little encouragement for women who don't desire motherhood.

May 27, 2025

When I was 15, I thought I’d be married by 25. I’d have 3 children, a cozy home, and a happily ever after, because that’s what my mom had. She married at 25, had 3 of us and I thought I’d follow in her footsteps. The “happily ever after” part was debatable, but what did I know?

Never mind that at 15, I was already obsessing over how to be thin and had bought the first of many weight-loss “remedies” from a herbal store in my neighborhood. The remedy didn’t work of course and now that I think about it, why did that store owner feel comfortable selling such nonsense to a teenager? These are the things I should have been unpacking with a trusted adult: loving my body, understanding my worth, developing self-awareness. Not planning for marriage and babies.

I’ll be 39 in July, and being childfree is a precious gift I hold close. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I made the decision and it wasn’t a dramatic epiphany, but a quiet unfolding. My instincts and intentional choices shaped the life I now live. And it feels right.

I never really pictured myself as a mom but I once did because, well, that’s what girls are socialised to do. You marry. You procreate. And if that hasn’t happened at the “right” time, you obsess about it—dreaming about wedding dresses, the husband, baby names, manifesting your miracle season. If you’re Nigerian, that means spending your Sunday afternoons scrolling through BellaNaija wedding photos, murmuring God when, picking out aso ebi colors in your head, and attending “special” prayer meetings for women “believing God” for a husband or child. Funny how these prayers are never aimed at men. 😏

We weren’t taught emotional intelligence or maturity in a way that centered us as girls with agency. Girls who become women who can build full lives outside the lens of marriage or motherhood. No one tells you that you can be whole on your own, or that you can make different choices instead of following a script that was never designed for everyone. I don’t think marriage was designed for women’s benefit but that’s another conversation.

In my 20s I didn’t fantasise about wedding dresses, colors or the perfect location and decor but, I had one baby name, which I really liked 😌. I did try imagining my husband waiting for me down the aisle. And I secretly wished that my boyfriend would propose to me at our Call to Bar ceremony at the end of Law School in 2011. I was 24, naive and said boyfriend turned out to be an arsehole who broke my heart. Surprise surprise! It’s an embarrassing memory but no shame here, you know; older and wiser.

When I finally admitted to myself that I didn’t want children, I felt my spirit roll her eyes like “duh. It took you long enough.” The time I second-guessed myself was after reading those sad posts from single women over 30 on the internet, worrying about their biological clock, wondering if they’d missed the boat or if their standards were too high. And for a split second, I’d think, “should I be panicking too?”

“Childfree” wasn’t a word we grew up with, but we all knew what it meant to be “childless.” Childless implies lack. It paints women as incomplete, defective, or somehow falling short. The idea that someone would choose not to have children, whether single or married, was almost unheard of.

But language shapes perception. Reframing childless to childfree affirms that I’m not losing anything, I’m choosing something. And that choice comes from deep self-awareness. It’s also a recognition that parenting isn’t an inevitable life stage or moral obligation. Not everyone should do it; not everyone wants to. And that’s okay.

At my age, being childfree is a flex. Society expects me to be a wife and mother doing my “duty”, ticking boxes or living quietly, in shame for not having those things. LOL. My spirit resists forced conformity. We’ve been fed this narrow picture of what a successful, fulfilling happy life should look like. Marry. procreate. sacrifice your life. repeat. Honestly? The thought of living like that fills me with dread. Every day I wake up childfree, I feel grateful for my life.

That’s not to say I don’t like children. I love my nieces and nephew. I do my best to be loving, present, and kind to earn their trust so they can lean on me, no questions asked. When they were babies, I was happy to change nappies, babysit, sing Baby Shark, and watch silly cartoons. I felt the joy in those moments, but I also felt relief when it was time for me to go home. I get my “auntie fix” and return to my world of long naps, solo trips, and doing as I please.

If your maternal instincts are ever questioned, let me remind you: being a biological mother isn’t the only way to nurture. You can mentor, foster, or pour love into your community. You can care deeply for your chosen family, your friends, your passions. I show up for the people I love. I’m the person you call at ~~2 a.m~~. Actually, more like before my bedtime which is 10:30pm. 👀

My life is full. I’m cultivating good friendships. I’m not lacking in love.

I’m lucky that my immediate family doesn’t apply intense pressure, though the subtle jabs are always there, usually hidden in prayer. Every Mother’s Day, after I’ve sent my “Happy Mother’s Day” greetings, my mom responds with, “Yours too will come.” I respond with, “Mummy, it’s my own money I want, abeg.” She already has three grandchildren, what more is she looking for?

To be fair, apart from my younger sister, I haven’t explicitly told my family I don’t want children. They assume I do, but just haven’t had them yet because I’m single. The idea that I might not want them at all? Unthinkable. Will I tell them? Maybe.

My illusion of safety and quiet acceptance shattered in January 2025, when, for the first time, my parents openly shamed me for being single. My sister had just left her abusive marriage and fled the country with her kids. I supported her fully, as any sibling should. But instead of praise, I was accused of being a bad influence. Apparently, I encouraged her to “end up like me” single. That hurt. But at least now I know how they really feel.

What’s ironic is that I’ve always supported my sister’s chosen path. She’s always loved children. She wanted marriage. Why wouldn’t I cheer her on? I remember her wedding day clearly, especially the aunties who swarmed around me, offering pity disguised as prayers: “your turn will come.” I said “amen,” but what I really wanted to say was, “Aunty, I’ve seen your trifling husband—is that what you wish for me? No, thank you.”

I wasn’t bitter, just annoyed. Even in moments that should’ve been joyful, people couldn’t resist projecting pity. It was another reminder that society still sees women like me as incomplete.

It’s wild how much pressure is placed on women to fulfill a role before we’re even taught how to truly know ourselves. We’re not raised to ask, what do I want from life? how do I get the best from it? Instead, its, how can I make myself desirable enough to be chosen for marriage and motherhood?

something most girls can relate with growing up Nigerian

We’re not taught to center our own desires, or build full lives for ourselves the way men are encouraged to. We’re not taught how to make good, grounded decisions outside the lens of marriage or motherhood. Choosing a different path requires deep self-awareness. It means unlearning harmful mindsets and writing a story that fits you. And that takes more courage than conformity ever will.

If you’re feeling unsure about wanting kids, I want you to know: it’s okay not to. Nothing is wrong with you. It’s actually a brave and beautiful thing to admit what you truly want and go for it. I find inspiration in older childfree women like Dominique who share their stories online with humour, and joy. Maybe their words will bring you comfort too. Seek them out. Build your own version of community.

Childfree and not Ashamed.

A little encouragement for women who don't desire motherhood.

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