Life has a funny way of teaching lessons with an almost cruel sense of irony. You find yourself yelling at the universe, "You couldn't have taught me that six months ago?"
In 2022, I started seeing child-free content on my TikTok timeline when I was three months deep in the trenches of nursing—dealing with swollen breasts, sleepless nights, and a beautiful baby boy who still wouldn't latch. I was single, exhausted, and well... just completely drained.
I knew before having my child that I would be a single mother, and I was about 70% okay with it. There was no heartbreak story here. Yes, I was 35 years old. Yes, I had gotten pregnant despite trying to prevent it. No, I wasn't sure I was mentally equipped to have an abortion, and yes, I think a part of me believed I would eventually become a mother. So my rationale was, if not now, then when? Whether this was a true desire or just my conditioning is something I would have to answer for myself later.
What I did know for sure was that I wanted to mother differently. I was terrified of losing myself to motherhood in a way that would fundamentally change who I was. This was crucial because, at 35, I was finally embracing an unapologetic acceptance of myself—a Ghanaian woman who had stopped caring about settling down or having a two-parent household, who had shed sexual shame and was learning what it truly meant to divest from male validation.
This growth began after I picked up the pieces from a previous epic heartbreak and learned to be comfortable with everything I had been told was "wrong" with me. I learned to not care that I wasn't "wife material" and that "my womanist views wouldn't get me married"—true words from a narcissistic ex. I was rediscovering how to enjoy my own company and understanding the crucial difference between being alone and being lonely.
I can admit I wasn't completely there yet—not fully free from the conventional expectations of what it meant to be a Ghanaian woman: family-oriented and, in many ways, domesticated. I was still battling with what I would be missing out on. If I was missing out on anything. What if a few years down the line, I think it’s time to have kids but then do I want to be 40+ and having to care for toddlers? I was battling 30 years of conditioning in the space of two weeks.
So here I was learning to be a mother and doom-scrolling on TikTok when the algorithm started alogorithming. I saw the first few videos of child-free women showing their lives and a version of life, in the recesses of my mind, knew was possible.
These women were choosing not to have children. They were coming home from work, having wine, indulging in hobbies they loved, or sitting in silence. SILENCE. Just continuing life as they always had.
That's the thing, isn't it? The before and after, and the consequences thereof. That’s what Ghanaian families get you with. There were more than enough poeple in my life re-echoing and reaffirming my doubts and uncertainties.
“Maame, being an aunt to your sister’s children isn’t the same as being a mother oo.”
“Who will take care of you when you are older?”
“35 now and you’re not getting younger oo, think about it?”
But these videos, I was seeing directly conflicted with the supposed consequences of missing out on this "magical experience" of motherhood. This fear of missing out had been weaponized against women who had chosen to opt out of motherhood. I had heard it all my life, and in those two weeks when I mused over whether or not I wanted to have my child, every friend—especially those who were mothers—told me how I would regret not having the baby in a few years.
Yet here they were, these women, going on day after day, as they always had.
And before you tell me that social media content isn't real life, I already know that. I also know that many of these women live in different countries where the essence of community takes more effort to build and that individualism is a growing cancer that negatively alters the way we are truly supposed to live, in my opinion. So it makes more sense to remain child-free. But to be honest, Ghanaian societies aren’t what they used to be either. Children can’t play outside freely like in my day, moving from one auntie’s house to the other. It’s not that easy to find support or help either; not from family or otherwise. Working mothers have to take their babies to daycare and pay heftily for it. This may sound normal for some, but it isn’t intrinsic to Ghanaian culture.
And more importantly, I remember my life before becoming a mother. It was peaceful and stress-free. I wasn't living in constant fear about being living long enough to take care of my child. No one depended on me so completely. My anxiety had never reached these heights.
As I watched these videos, I cycled through emotions—uncertainty, sadness, fear, acceptance, and finally determination. One other emotion was and has continued to remain certain: Love. I love my child too much to regret having him. But I believe I was meant to see these perspectives for a reason:
To not make motherhood my entire personality and life.
To see that women can be happy whether they're mothers or not.
To unapologetically prioritize myself when needed, because a happy woman is a happy mother.
To claim autonomy over my next steps concerning my child and my life.
To live by the standards and boundaries I set for myself, without outside influence.
To enjoy and define motherhood my way.
To not have any more children.
So to child-free women, I say thank you.
Thank you for teaching women that without community, no one has a right to ask any more from us other than just leaving us to exist and thrive. That not all of us are maternally inclined and that even if we are, we show our motherly love in so many diverse ways, without guilt. That is deceptive to make us feel having children is the only way to showcase maternal love; A humbling tactic. We show it every day in organizing, building community, being sisters, and friends, and in the activities and jobs we love. That care isn’t one-dimensional and it is not invalid just because there’s no child there.
That all forms of womanhood and motherhood is valid and beautiful.
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