Mother's Day: Could you accept a life without a baby?

To be a mum or not, that's a choice many women face during their lifetime. Could you accept a life without a baby or is it something that you couldn't possibly imagine? Woman debates the issue...

I won't get to be a mum and that's OK, says Lisa Williams:

I always assumed I would become a mum. From the moment I could understand the whole concept, I was sure that one day I'd be blissfully in love, married with the perfect husband and two children living happily ever after in my fairy tale world.

But that's the problem with life, it doesn't always go according to plan. And now at the ripe old age of 42 (in fertility terms at least) I am childless (or maybe child free is kinder) and having to accept the fact that I won't be having a baby. Ever.

At times, it's been a tough pill to swallow. Watching my friends have a baby, or two, or even three. Seeing the cute and smiley pictures while scrolling through Facebook and somehow feeling that my life is ever so slightly incomplete because of the lack of a little one.

And, despite the modern free-thinking and free-spirited world we live in, there still feels a certain stigma attached to being an unmarried woman in her 40s with no children. Failure may be a strong word but in certain right-on mum circles I'm guessing that's the exact label that would be given to me.

There have been opportunities but nature can be unkind along with the timing being all wrong and so it is that I have not had the privilege to become a mum.

I think I'd have made a good mum in many ways but the older I have become the more cynical about life I am. I've seen my own mum and dad go through the roller coaster ride of parenting and frankly it doesn't seem particularly fun. All that worry and anxiety from the second a baby is born and the trouble is it never goes away. I'm not sure I could hack that.

There's also the financial implications to consider, then the pain and heartache they may encounter throughout their lives that any parent feels too and there are no guarantees that your offspring will always live near you, they may move hundreds of miles away.

That's my coping mechanism. . . to look at the downsides so I don't feel I've missed out on one of the potentially best things that can happen in your life.

I've heard first hand all the negatives from exhausted mums how frazzled they are and while that's not going to be something I have to worry about I wouldn't necessarily describe myself as 'lucky' to have loads of time to myself. There's nothing more I would have loved than having a mini me or little boy who loves me and who I can love and that could possibly become my best friend and look after me as I grow old.

But that's no longer an option and I can't spend the rest of life missing something I've never actually had or regretting something that just wasn't meant to be.

I really can't imagine life without my kids, says Sally-Anne Youll:

My four-year-old daughter is sitting in the back seat of the car on our way to school. "Mum," she says thoughtfully, "I think I've got an a**ehole." If I'd been drinking coffee at that moment, it would have been spluttered across the windscreen. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to suppress a laugh. As she describes a painful spot inside her mouth I realise she actually means an ulcer.

Fast forward a few years and my 11-year-old son is also sat beside me in the car. "What's your favourite decade for music?" he asks. "I like a lot of music from all the decades," I say. "Well 90s Indie classics are my favourite," he says, without batting an eyelid. I smile and think, my work here is done.

Both of these are small insignificant moments in everyday life, and probably not much of interest to anyone outside our immediate circle.

But for me they sum up what it's like to be a parent. Becoming a parent isn't some massive thunderbolt moment of realisation that this is what life is all about. It is a whole series of small insignificant moments like these that now fill every day, leaving you in turns surprised, amused, shocked, laughing til you cry, proud, humble, annoyed, angry, distraught, exasperated and always hopeful.

Moments that put your own life and all its world-weary woes into perspective; and their sum total enriches your life in ways you never previously thought possible. They make life better, it's as simple as that.

I always knew I wanted kids. I grew up as the eldest of four and as much as I was annoyed by the constant noise and often thought how nice it must be to live in a house with no children in it, I could never really imagine a life without kids in it.

Of course parenting has its downsides. Exhaustion for one. Constant worry and guilt for another. Everything I do becomes an internal battle of what is best for the kids. Is it best to work all the hours, setting an example of a hard-working mum and giving them a strong work ethic. Or do they deserve more of my time?

The early days of motherhood for me were tinged with a grief for the loss of the life I had until then taken for granted. Never before had I appreciated the ability to pop to the shops, or even go to the loo undisturbed. But this was shortlived, replaced with a hope and excitement for what the future would bring.

Of course I still moan about the lack of free time – but free time to do what? If I have free time there's nothing I like more than sharing it with the kids, watching a film or going on a day trip. Now I couldn't imagine life without them and I can't imagine a future without them. I can picture it now, sitting listening to 90s indie classics together when they visit me in a care home.