Being 50, Childless and Grieving Something You’re Not Even Sure You Wanted

I don’t talk about this often but… I’m 50. I don’t have children. And there’s an underlying grief in knowing that, biologically, that window is narrowing.

For a long time, my life was about survival, growth, rebuilding and healing. Through all of this, motherhood simply wasn’t the right choice for me.

I’ve done a lot of emotional work over the years. I’ve built a meaningful life and created stability where once there was chaos. I guess that’s why there’s a part of me that has thought, “I could actually mother well now”.

Not from obligation. Not from the pressure of society… But from wholeness.

That grief is about acknowledging that a particular version of my life will probably never exist. A version where I pass on what I’ve built to a child of my own.

I think many women in their late 40s and 50s sit in this space quietly. We’ve built careers. We’ve survived toxic marriages. We’ve rebuilt ourselves from the challenges life has thrown at us and we’ve learned how to nurture… And just as we feel most emotionally equipped, biology has other ideas.

There’s also the practical reality. Energy matters. Support matters. The presence of a committed partner matters. It’s not just about whether you could have a child… it’s about whether the life around that child would feel right.

And then there’s the fact that being an older mother means potentially not being around as long or becoming a burden on a young adult as you age. That doesn’t seem fair to me.

If you’re in this season too, feeling uncertain, reflective or maybe grieving quietly, I want to say this:

Grief does not mean you made the wrong choices or your life is incomplete.

Grief can simply mean you are honouring a door that is closing.

There are many ways to mother… Some of us mother teams. Some of us mother land, animals, projects, ideas. Some of us become the steady, safe presence younger women never had.

None of those are consolation prizes. They are very real. And yet, it’s okay if there’s still a small ache when you think about what might have been.

You can hold both:

Deep gratitude for the life you have.

And tenderness for the life that may never be.

If this resonates, you’re not alone ❤️