My Mother-In-Law Pressured Me to Have a Baby and Almost Broke Me

When will this obsession with reproduction end?

Feb 14, 2025

woman sat with her head in her hands — Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

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I’ve known since I was six years old that I don’t want children.

My choice to not have children is not an attack on anyone’s choice to have them. It really is no big deal, but it became a big deal for a few years of my life.

You see, despite my stance on not having children, my mother-in-law (now ex) begged me to have a baby.

“Just one; you don’t have to have lots. I’m begging you, just one baby, for me!”

Twelve years on, and these words still make me shudder.

Sadly, it is all too common for women to feel pressured into having children whether they want them or not. And yes, women experience this pressure more than men do.

Intrusive pressure, judgment and stigma are reasons why I have positioned myself as an advocate for people without children, whether childfree or childless.

Before we continue I have a favour to ask. If you enjoy Life Without Children, please help me spread the word. Could you share Life Without Children in your childfree or childless community? Are you open to recommending us to your friends? Please and thank you.

My then-boyfriend had no siblings, and was her only hope for grandchildren. And so, by default, I was her only hope.

And the pressure was intense.

Her desperation for grandchildren was obsessive and fanatical. Every time I saw her, there were comments.

Like the time in the airport when she grinned at me while I pushed the luggage trolly and said, “Oh, look at you, practising for when it’s a pram.”

Another time, she beamed joyfully and told me she had ordered a toilet training seat, which was ready and waiting for when I had a baby.

She spoke openly about how she imagined my labour to be and said, “I hope you let me in the hospital. I hope you let me be a part of this.”

She even talked about buying the house next door to look after her non-existent grandchild.

I was compassionate to her desperation. Unforeseen circumstances prevented her from having more than one child. But that didn’t make me a vessel for her evaporated aspirations.

The mere idea of pregnancy sends me into a panic, complete with a racing heart and sweaty palms. I have tokophobia (a pathological fear of anything pregnancy and sometimes babies). While I know there are treatments for this, the simple fact remains: I do not want children.

I felt the crushing weight of dashing her dreams. But they were her dreams, not mine.

Don’t you think children deserve to be unconditionally loved and desperately wanted?

My then-boyfriend said he was on board with not having children. In hindsight, I think he rather naively thought I would “change my mind” (yes, that condescending phrase that so many childfree people hear).

On reflection, I believe he was happy to let his mum sink her fangs into me and do his dirty work. I sometimes even wonder if they planned it.

Despite my repeated communications to her that our future did not involve children, she bombarded me with relentless baby talk.

I was made to feel abnormal for not wanting kids

The comments were incessant. With each one, I felt more invisible, abnormal, and anxious.

I agonised over my aversion to having children. For several years, I concluded that something was deeply wrong with me.

In the throes of this pressure, many of my friends were having babies. I was in my early 30s, the age when women are interrogated, sometimes by strangers, about the status of their wombs.

As a woman, there is no escaping the baby gauntlet.

In the thicks of this pressure, I found myself questioning my choices. Why couldn’t I just do this thing that so many people do, often without even thinking?

During these years of torment and turmoil, I sometimes wondered if the mother-in-law was right.

Maybe birthing a child was the answer to everything. Maybe it would allow me to fit in with society and friend groups and experience less stigma and judgment.

Even today I sometimes wish I wanted children. They could be my ticket to normality and social acceptance. But, what a burden to place on a child.

In my opinion, having children for what we stand to gain, rather than what we have to give, is not a valid reason to reproduce.

I didn’t want children then, and I don’t want children now.

Some women describe a deep internal urge calling them to motherhood; I think that’s beautiful. I wish I felt that. Instead, my inner soul screams at me to avoid motherhood at all costs.

There were times I considered telling my ex-mother-in-law that I couldn’t have children. Surely that would make her stop? However, my integrity did not allow me to appropriate the disenfranchised grief of the childless.

If we want to be authentic, there is no place for pretence. To be true to myself, I had to own my lack of desire for children and deal with the consequences. I had to stand tall and not be shamed for who I was.

Tears, tantrums, and a final showdown

Things came to a head one afternoon.

Following a family lunch, she and I walked side by side to our cars. We passed a playpark en route.

“I can’t wait until my grandchildren play in that park.”
“Erm no, I am not having children, you know this.”

This was the start of the begging.

“Just one, you don’t have to have lots. I’m begging you, just one child, for me. You don’t even have to give up your dogs. You are great with your dogs; you would be great with children.”

Followed by.

“Please, I’ve got all this jewellary to give to them.”

Her relentlessness knew no bounds. The preceding years of baby comments were like a form of water torture. That drip drip drip effect made me a shell of the person I once was. It took all the strength I had to stand up for myself.

Later on, safely back in my own home and away from her manipulations, I asked my then-boyfriend to intervene and speak with her. To finally put an end to all her nonsense.

And you know what he said?

He spewed out some weak and feeble words about how this was an issue between me and his mother, and it had nothing to do with him.

Looking back, I am furious at myself for accepting this pathetic excuse. He needed to step up and demonstrate his support; his failure to do so was telling.

Coming out of that relationship gave me the most tangible sense of liberation I’ve ever experienced. Perhaps the greatest relief of all was removing the toxic pressure to have a baby.

This all happened ten years ago. Although I bravely tip-toed along my own path, at this time, I didn’t know of any other women who had chosen not to have children.

I had no guiding lights, no beacons of hope reassuring me. Instead, I was bombarded by the pronatalism of society telling me my purpose as a woman was to be a mother.

In an era where everyone around me had babies on the brain, I was alone and isolated.

My anxiety escalated while my confidence plummeted.

I felt like an anomaly, defunct and broken — shrivelled, shrunk, and discarded.

While my close friends and family accept my choices without pushback or resistance, this acceptance isn’t reflected in society.

Childfree people still experience undue hostility and the grief of the childless is disenfranchised.

Throughout our life spans, all non-parents receive ridiculous and intrusive comments at one stage or another.

I’ve been told I’ll never know love, I’ll change my mind, I’ll regret it, I’ll die alone, I’m not a proper woman, and my life has no purpose.

Imagine if we told someone who wants children that they’ll regret it. We know that’s not on, so why say this to people without children?

Very few people commend me for knowing my own heart.

All these unsolicited comments, coupled with my experiences with my ex-mother-in-law, almost broke me.

The childfree and childless community

In the wake of coming out of this unhealthy relationship and freeing myself from that mother-in-law, I found the childfree and childless communities.

I’ve read dozens of books, devoured blogs and research papers, and listened to podcasts.

I’ve spent hours scrolling through social media. Perhaps the greatest value of all is connecting with other childfree and childless people.

In my moment of need, I felt isolated and alone. Ostracised from society. My experiences with this mother-in-law lit a spark in me. I want to help prevent other women from going through what I did.

I’ve written over 30 articles on the nuances of the non-parent experience, been interviewed on several podcasts and spoken on national radio and in panels at conferences. And now I curate Life Without Children to amplify the voices of people without children.

Despite being chewed up and spat out, I finally feel liberated, seen, and understood. I am strong, steadfast, and unapologetic for my choices.

I know it is perfectly normal not to want or have children, and I am on a mission to help other women in similar positions.

Please be a childfree and childless ally

If anyone ever tells you they don’t want children, please accept their position.

By all means, explore the subject with them, but don’t try to change their mind or catastrophize their life without children. This just comes across as condescending and invalidating.

Living childfree is as valid a life choice as having children.

Always be mindful of the childless, those people among us who want children but can’t have them.

And please, when you speak with young children about their imaginary future children, make sure you word it appropriately. Use phrases like “If you choose to have children” instead of “When you have children,” and also educate them that they may not be able to.

The assumption that everyone wants and can have children is often at the heart of the stigma issue.

And the romanticised fallacy that motherhood is everyone's calling is damaging to mothers and non-mothers alike.

I long for a world where parents are given adequate support, the childless get their longed-for baby, and the childfree are accepted and respected for their choices.

Thanks for reading this piece, which was originally published on Medium. If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts; please leave a comment or share it with a friend.

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