That Biological Clock, Choices and Societal Expectations

In my recent episode of my Mindful Poetic Stories podcast (listen here) I share the story around my decision not to have children. My poem featured was inspired by a conversation I had on a walk in a park with a friend who, on seeing two heavily pregnant women, asked me, “Do you regret not having a child”?

I replied with a no, I don’t regret it, and what ensued was a conversation between two women who had never experienced pregnancy, but one who so wished she had been able to and another who had made the choice not to.

I was grateful for this moment as it helped me reflect, not only on my decision not to become a mother but also on how blessed I felt for the children who were part of my life and who had brought such joy to me, and the episode is dedicated to all of them.

The phrase biological clock has long been used to describe the time-sensitive nature of female fertility. But more than a biological reality, it has become a symbol of pressure, often imposed externally. I know women who endured subtle comments from family, pressure in various forms, and now even policy statements from politicians concerned about falling birth rates; women are frequently finding themselves navigating a maze of expectations.

I recently caught a segment on UK television where broadcaster Vanessa Feltz led a discussion based on this question. Is There Too Much Pressure on Women to Have Children? This was sparked by comments from the Education Secretary who expressed concern over the UK’s declining birth rate, now the lowest since 1977, and her view that more young women should have children.

But this raises an uncomfortable truth: while the government urges women to have more children, where is the support for those who do? As so many struggle with the cost of living, lack of accessible childcare, and career setbacks for mothers, it suggests to me a government that is more interested in numbers than nurturing.

There’s a quiet, often misunderstood demographic of women who choose not to have children, like Polly Vernon, the writer interviewed by Vanessa who knew from age seven she didn’t want to become a mother. I, too, made that decision early in life.

And similar to Polly Vernon, when I shared this choice openly in my 20s, it was often met with surprise or judgment and with “Ah you should have children”, “You’ll regret it,” or a frivolous statement, “but who will look after you when you are old?”

These assumptions ignore the rich, fulfilling lives many child-free women lead. They can also reduce children to insurance policies for future care,  rather than acknowledging the emotional and ethical complexity of parenting.

The pressure isn’t just societal. It’s internal too. Raised in a culture where womanhood was synonymous with motherhood, I struggled with the belief that something was wrong with me as I didn’t want children. I even at one time worried I’d wake up one day with regret, but that day never came.

For me the reason I chose not to have children was driven by the fact that I believed I would mess them up; my younger self somehow already felt aware of my own lack of emotional stability, with a feeling of being flawed, and I knew I just didn’t wish to pass that on.

I love the quote by Margaret Mead, “Children must be taught how to think, not what to think”.

One of the biggest misconceptions we carry is that love and legacy must come through biological motherhood. But what if we expanded that definition? The fact is, mothers are people, and the reality is not every person has the ability to give love, nor do they know how to receive it.

In my podcast episode, I share how throughout my life, I have built beautiful, loving relationships with other people’s children. I’ve offered presence, guidance, and care. I have laughed with them and watched them grow. I have also supported family and friends through their parenting journeys, offering a nurturing presence when they need it most.

Maeve Binchy, Irish author, who longed for children but couldn’t have any, said one of the greatest gifts a mother can give is to “share the nurture of children with childless women.” The phrase she used was “the borrowed parent”. However, I believe it takes emotional stability and maturity to embrace this kind of community parenting — one I myself felt I might have struggled with — but it speaks to a wider truth: mothering is not only a biological act, it’s a human one.

The pain of infertility is another side of this story. I’ve walked beside women who desperately wanted children but were unable to conceive. The grief is raw, deep, complicated, and often invisible. These women, too, are pressured, not just by society, but by their own hearts and a deep very human biological desire, but unlike men, time is a factor.

I believe we need more space in public conversation for those who cannot have children, just as we do for those who choose not to. Both experiences are valid. Both deserve compassion.

At its core, the question “Is there too much pressure on women to have children?” is really a question about autonomy. Do women have the freedom to make life decisions based on their own values, desires, and circumstances? Or are they still being boxed into roles shaped by outdated expectations? Looking back, personally, from a young age I always resisted being boxed in to societal norms, yes there is a safety in complying to these, but on the other hand for me they also felt quite suffocating. No doubt this fed into my life decisions and choices.

Whether you are child-free by choice, childless by circumstance, a devoted parent, a foster carer, or a mentor, your path is valid. What matters is not whether you bear children, but how you show up in love, presence, and integrity, for the children of this world.

As we evolve as a society, let’s work toward a culture that respects women’s choices, supports mothers, honours those who grieve, and celebrates the many forms love and legacy can take.

I say let’s work together to protect all children growing up in this world, lets learn about ourselves through them, let us lead by example, not forgetting their emotional needs and that childhood curiosity, fun, playfulness and zest for life.

I love the line in the song “What a wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong; I hear babies cry, I watch them grow, they’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world”…

As Frederick Douglass so asutely said, It’s easier to build strong children than repair broken men. So whether its your biological child or a child you know or care for, lets embrace life, nature, humanity, emotional awareness, positive intelligence, empathy, compassion, and resilience together.

Always remembering you too have a beautiful child within you, who will also thrive with your self love, patience and nurturing.