I recently had the task of summarizing my résumé in a few lines.

I oriented myself on what others had done before me and found that many of the texts ended with the statement: “married, two children”.

I wondered if I should write: “divorced, childless”, but then decided against it.

Eva Sleeper

Editor in the "Life" section of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung.

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Divorced and childless - it sounds like I've done something wrong in life.

This is not about the failed marriage (if you're still interested: the ex-husband is a really nice one, we had a lawyer together for the divorce), but about the absence of children.

I'm 46 years old, the train has left.

Does that make me sad?

Or wistful?

The answer is no.

It was a plan, not a wish

Actually, I always assumed that I would have children. We were three siblings at home and had a harmonious family life; there were no experiences that spoke against having a family of their own. After graduation, however, I realized that my plan to have children was really just a plan. I did not have the desire to become a mother, which my friends had credibly assured me that they would feel it. My brain told me the time had come: I was married to a man whom I trusted to be a good father. I also trusted myself to be able to manage motherhood. We were the right age, had jobs that fed us, and everyone else around had kids too. So I thought: Then let's do it now.

However: It didn't work.

And it seemed to be up to me.

So I followed the advice of the gynecologist and went to the fertility clinic at a university clinic.

After a couple of examinations, which annoyed me because they were associated with all sorts of waiting, the fertility specialists told me that it was probably going to be hormone therapy.

Before that, however, they would still check whether my fallopian tubes were leaky.

That could be done in a minimally invasive way.

I said I would think about it.

And never reported me again.

If it shouldn't be, it shouldn't be

I didn't like the idea of ​​undergoing this minor procedure. Much less could I come to terms with the idea of ​​swallowing hormones - and knew it was absurd, since I had been taking the pill out of convenience for many years. Nor was it a concern of messing with the creator's craft. I just didn't want to. My head, my heart, my stomach - they all sparked: If it shouldn't be, then it shouldn't be.

My husband said I had to decide that it was my body.

When our marriage broke up for other reasons, not long after attending the fertility clinic, I was very sad about the loss of the person I had actually wanted to grow old with.

And at the same time I felt totally relieved because it was clear to me: I no longer have to deal with having children.

That was ten years ago.

At that time I said to those around me that it felt right for me to be childless, but of course I didn't know whether I might regret it in five years.

Today I say: I haven't regretted it yet.

And I don't think the regrets will come along either.

Don't get me wrong: I like the children around me.

Last year I became an aunt and find the creature that is now part of the family very lovable.

I even think, had it worked out then, I would be a happy mother.

I don't see what i'm missing

But I don't miss the fact that I haven't passed on my genes. I also don't mind that I don't know the kind of love you feel for your own children. Sure, I don't know what I'm giving up emotionally. But honestly, when I look at the families of my friends, who usually have offspring between kindergarten and high school, I can't really tell what I'm missing. When I visit, I see, in addition to unquestionably beautiful, intimate moments, a lot of childishly irrational behavior and a lot of annoyance on the part of parents. These are snapshots, I am aware of that. But these moments seem to take up a lot of space in everyday life.

Is it selfish that I enjoy having time for myself, for example to read the newspaper in peace on Sunday mornings? Is it selfish that, until the pandemic, I was able to gain a lot from the freedom to go on spontaneous excursions and short trips? Is it selfish that I have very little enthusiasm for hanging out in playgrounds?

I don't think so, mainly because that's not why I deliberately foregoing offspring.

I just never felt that this was my way.

I know that for most of the others the question of whether they want to have children does not even arise, but that the answer is simply “yes”.

And at the same time I still catch myself getting to know women, finding them great - and then being amazed when I find out that they have children.

I see a lot in women, but not the mother.

That's why I always feel incredulous when women tell me that they don't feel like they are full enough because they don't get pregnant or have not given birth to a child.

For me, such a thought, such a feeling is absurd.

Why is that?

I dont know.

But I am grateful that it is so.