Recently, while visiting a friend in Austin, Texas, I attended a birthday celebration for two adorable sisters, aged 3 and 5, who are classmates of my friend’s kids. Walking into a church that boasted a basketball court, a bowling alley, and an abundance of play structures for the little ones was a revelation that left my suburban New Jersey mind reeling.
As I munched on chicken nuggets and watched the kids try their hardest not to trip over bowling balls, I felt a wave of joy. I’m the kind of person who can easily lose track of time scrolling through your child’s photos or happily engaging in games like Candy Land or air hockey. But then, everything shifted when I made a trip to the restroom. To my dismay, I discovered my period had arrived two days early.
Amidst the chaos of giggling children fueled by birthday cake, I felt a swell of emotion. It seemed like my period was mocking me, especially after a recent month where it had shown up four days late, filling me with hope that perhaps, just perhaps, at 39, my dream of motherhood was on the horizon. Clearly, that wasn’t the case, at least not now. Although I had packed pads for my trip, I neglected to bring some that day, trusting my cycle would remain punctual. Instead, I found myself grappling with conflicting feelings while surrounded by laughter and innocent joy.
I’ve never been a fan of the phrase “having it all,” yet in that moment, I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of having only part of what I desire. I am in a committed relationship with a wonderful man who treats me with kindness beyond what I feel I deserve. I’ve edited over 50 anthologies in my chosen field of romantic literature, maintain two sex columns, and even had an article featured in a prestigious publication—something I’ve admired since my teenage years. Last year, I launched an online writing course that sold out at a price I would have never imagined charging. When friends ask about my dream career, I proudly say I’m living it. Yet, deep down, I don’t feel satisfied. If a genie appeared and offered me my dream job in exchange for a healthy baby, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.
My desire to become a mother emerged at 30, a time when I thought I had plenty of time left. I was fully immersed in my role as an adult magazine editor and indulging in hobbies like trivia and comedy shows. I didn’t have a plan for the future, let alone a roadmap. Now, at 39, my life feels like it’s revolving around my menstrual cycle, filled with disappointment when it arrives and hope when it doesn’t. Approaching 40, I feel an urgency, especially as many friends I know have already become parents. I feel like I’m lagging behind, similar to how I felt in high school.
Despite my career flourishing and my relationship thriving, I can’t help but fixate on what I lack. I don’t have a child to play games with or to dress up in adorable outfits. I don’t have a little one to celebrate birthdays with or to bake cakes for. I’m grateful for my incredibly supportive partner, whose selflessness astounds me daily—like the time he took on the role of “nurse” when I had a painful abscess. I don’t want to diminish the life we’ve built or the professional advancements I’ve made.
Still, I wake up feeling a void, especially when I see kids walking to school or traveling with oversized suitcases. It’s a daily battle to keep faith that I might one day have children, making choices based on what’s best for them even when I’m still skeptical about whether they’ll ever exist. Should I indulge in champagne or stick to seltzer? Is splurging $100 on a bra reasonable? Should I travel to visit a friend abroad or save that money for future needs? What would a responsible mom do?
Yet, this cycle of questioning can trap me in a web of doubt. It assumes that mothers always make the right choices, which I know from observing my friends and family is far from the truth. I understand that parents are flawed individuals, just like me. I hope to join their ranks soon, but until then, my otherwise fulfilling life feels incomplete.
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Summary
In a heartfelt reflection, Sophie Ellis shares her internal struggle between professional success and the longing for motherhood. While thriving in her career and in a loving relationship, she grapples with feelings of inadequacy as she approaches 40 without children. The article explores the societal pressures of motherhood and the emotional complexities that accompany the desire to have a family.
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