If Having Kids Is So Rewarding, Why Do Parents Keep Saying They Miss Being Child-Free?

Yahoo

20-05-2025

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It first happened a couple of years ago. Leaning across the terrazzo countertops of my childhood friend's North London home while her two young daughters played nearby, I'd just delivered the soon-to-be-familiar line, 'I'm not sure if we want to have kids.' I braced myself for the litany of reasons that motherhood was not to be missed (parenting is the biggest joy of life, our reason for being, an opportunity for growth and fulfillment, and, if I opted out, I'd be lonely in old age).
Instead, coffee cup in hand, she stared at me. 'Don't do it,' she said, without a trace of sarcasm.
I was stunned. From age 7, this friend had been adamant that she wanted to be a mother. Her children's art projects filled their home—a testament to the love and care that she brings not only to her family but to her job as an elementary school teacher. It wasn't, she went on to say, that she didn't love her children but that parenthood wasn't as necessary as she once thought. Given the chance, she'd recommend a sidestep.
Since then, I've heard some version of this warning dozens of times. From peers in the trenches, to my sister's friends—a generation older, on the brink of becoming empty nesters—to neighbors and coworkers, some who are grandparents with the hindsight of decades. We rightly celebrate our moms and—at least some of us—take stock of our maternal urges. But after all these cautionary tales, I'm left wondering why so many parents seem less than thrilled with their choice.
Growing up, I always assumed I'd have kids, but I was nonplussed when little girls like my friend expressed a longing for them. I had so much I wanted to do before then. I figured that I'd do those things (spoiler alert: I did not end up winning the Olympics or becoming a prima ballerina) and then some level of desire for children would just kick in. But (more spoilers), that hasn't really happened either.
Still, I know how sweet and life-affirming the closeness of caring for a small person can be. I never questioned that parenthood was an indelibly rewarding experience. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes that final logical conclusion, the requisite baby in a baby carriage. Right? But in a time when reproductive freedoms are being stripped away from women, it is notoriously hard for women to choose sterilization 'in case they regret it,' and the current administration is actively trying to persuade us to have more children, this directive has taken on a distinctly sinister vibe.
And the data backs up all these misgivings. According to a Surgeon General advisory, '48 percent of parents say that most days their stress is completely overwhelming compared to 26 percent among other adults.' The pressures of social media, the necessity within most families for both parents to maintain full-time jobs, and other modern-day complications are highlighted as areas of concern. It's no wonder U.S. birth rates are steadily declining.
But what I find fascinating is why those who are seemingly making it work, seemingly happy, are advising me (and lots of other potential parents) to stay away. With women now more fully in the workforce, perhaps there's less pressure to describe parenthood as the epitome of their life's work. Or perhaps discussing hardship is simply less taboo. Either way, I'm getting an earful, and others on the fence are too.
'My mother said to only even consider having a child if I'm absolutely sure it's what I want,' one friend told me. While working as a nanny, another friend recalled multiple orthodox Jewish mothers at a New York children's gymnastics school telling her how lucky she and her wife were not to be parents. Angela Chiang, a figure skating coach in Manhattan, told me it's not unusual in difficult moments—a toddler refusing to put a helmet on or a tween giving an extra dose of sass—for parents of her students to say things such as, 'I would never change my life, but don't have kids.'
From what I can tell, this advice, which ranges from flippant to deadly serious, is coming from people who are deeply committed to their children and grandchildren. It never comes in hushed, guilty tones. Nor does it seem to be a grass-is-greener mindset. many of these parents have lived full professional lives without and with children. It's just that with the gift of hindsight, they'd recommend the former.
'There's always been shit in raising kids,' said my neighbor Alison Sheehan. But something has shifted, says the former public school principal who now runs the Professional Learning Gottesman Center for Science Teaching and Learning at the American Museum of Natural History. When her three children were growing up in the '90s, it wasn't unusual for them to play for hours around her block, enjoying sleepovers multiple nights a week.
Today, her daughter says she won't ever let Sheehan's 3-year-old granddaughter spend the night at friends' houses. Sheehan understands why. With apps like Citizen blasting notifications of every single offender and incident every single minute of the day, and online influencers outlining all the ways parents are falling short, the push to be ever-present is overwhelming. 'When I look at parenting now, there's no joy anymore,' she said.
Recent decades have seen a proliferation of 'best practice' techniques for raising children—many of which do tangibly improve health and wellness outcomes. But the transparent quantity of information out there, from momfluencers with a million different hacks to conflicting pediatric advice ('Do I burp my newborn on his side? His front? Do I burp him often? Never?' my cousin wondered, referring to the myriad methods endorsed by professionals), leaves parents in confusion.
'There's a confidence that the generation before us has about parenting,' another friend told me. Today, he said, they have to lean into gentle parenting techniques, provide multiple food options for his children to explore and promote a positive attitude toward food at mealtimes, and monitor screen time. If they don't? They're bad parents, condemning their children to a lifetime of low self-esteem, eating disorders, and poor social skills. 'It's relentless,' he said.
Of course, the birds and the bees of it all means that not everyone has the time to consider what raising a child may mean for their lives before they're in the throes of it. There's also the soul-deep pull that many feel to have a baby, which often precludes any doubt or question. But one thing I heard from all the parents I spoke to was the lack of preparation they felt. When considering a new job or a new relationship—arguably much less important life choices—they'd undergone much more debate.
'I thought that there would be some magic change where I would be sure/happy/ready when my kid arrived, and that just didn't happen,' Sam, a Brooklyn mom of a 2-and-a-half-year-old, told me via email. She said that even with careful consideration, she didn't realize just how hard it would be on her career and relationship.
'Any cracks in our relationship or annoyances I had with him have been intensely exacerbated by having a kid.'
Others I spoke to feel once they became parents, all their focus shifted to their children and they barely know their spouses now—perhaps of all the warnings this gives me the most pause. I enjoy a solid relationship with my husband that I'm not sure I'd risk for anything. Many said that partnership changes irreversibly when, suddenly, the person you love most in the world isn't your other half.
And you're not just sacrificing partnership. 'I lost so much of myself to be a mom,' one of my sister's friends told me. 'Of course, I would do it all again, because I know this incredible human now. But 18 years into it, I look back and I hardly recognize who I am.'
That loss—the sense of crossing over into another state—is something many wish they'd had more chance to process. Before having her son, Sam could only describe the prospect of becoming a mother like death.
I know what she means. An indelible part of her identity and the life she lived before her son's birth is ostensibly over. That isn't fundamentally bad. But Sam believes that parenthood should be treated with the same intensity and counseling as we do when handling the end of life.
I'd be lying if I said these warnings weren't daunting. But whether or not I become a mom, what those around me really seem to be saying is that neither option will give me a clear pass to happiness or fulfillment. And that's the beauty of their honesty. No matter what messages we get from online trad wives, would-be grandparents, or the ideologies of the past, what matters is that us would-be, maybe mothers can—at least for now—choose our own paths and embrace the joy, regret, and ambivalence that comes along the way.
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