I left my relationship because my boyfriend wanted kids – and I didn’t

When I let go of my long-term partner at the age of 30 because he was broody and I wasn’t, friends and family looked at me as if I was crazy, writes mum-of-two Charlotte Cripps

‘I strongly believe it can only help to open up conversation about heteronormative, stereotypical tropes that damage women and place undue pressure on us to breed out of fear of our “biological clock”’ (iStock)

My first response as a mum of two, whenever I hear a story about a woman focusing on her career instead of having kids? Good for her. How refreshing to hear of a woman putting on the brakes and wanting to wait to have a family – rather than a man.

How many times have you heard that in reverse? Or witnessed a (usually famous) woman berated or pitied for being child-free? Just look at what recently happened to Taylor Swift: a male writer branded her a “terrible role model” for being “unmarried and childless” – at 34. When you’re a woman, you’re damned if you do; but particularly damned if you don’t.

I strongly believe it can only help to open up conversation about heteronormative, stereotypical tropes that damage women and place undue pressure on us to breed out of fear of our “biological clock”.

Because that same pressure even plagues people like the Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris, who’s been lambasted for being “childless”. One commentator said they believed that she shouldn’t be the US president, because “the concerns of parents and families will always be abstract to her”.

Can we just reflect for a moment on how crazy this is – and how much pressure it puts on women? What about men and their role in parenthood? Not to mention the unfair structures that prohibit women from maintaining a career without being penalised for it – such as soaring childcare costs.

Women should be speaking out about what they really want – and can afford. Saying the quiet part out loud might help reverse that old worn-out narrative that it’s the “norm” for men not to want to settle down, while women approaching their thirties supposedly live in terror of their fertility falling off a cliff by the age of 35.

According to a report by the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority, the average age of those starting IVF treatments is now older than 35 for the first time – by which time achieving a successful pregnancy via IVF drops for those in their late thirties to 26 per cent (from 42 per cent of women aged 18 to 34). For women in ther early forties, as I was when I first started trying for a baby, it drops to five per cent. That has led to predictable blasts from certain quarters claiming women are “leaving it too late” to have kids.

Why is the rhetoric always centered around shaming women? Britain’s dwindling birth rate is being impacted by the cost of living crisis, lack of free childcare and tax breaks – all of which need a serious overhaul to promote having chidren at a younger age. And sometimes it simply comes down to personal choice.

When I let go of my long-term boyfriend at the age of 30, many friends and family looked at me as if I was crazy. He was perfect on paper – handsome, loving, committed. But when he got broody and mentioned the word “baby” and clearly wanted to take it to the next stage, I found myself running out of the door.

It was offputting. I viewed children at that time as a burden – partly because that is what my mother had told me it was like, to put me off having a baby early. I had been conditioned to put my career first and not to have children in my late twenties like my mother had. Having a baby could wait until I was more settled and financially secure. Except... that never happened.

I didn’t meet another Mr Right until my late thirties, when I was seriously dying to be a mum. But for ages the relationship was not at the stage to talk about such major issues. It haunted me every day – would I ever have a baby? I even considered having one with a sperm donor just to get one in the bag (but I quickly realised that it might be a little too complicated if I wanted to remain with the love of my life).

I kept my thoughts to myself until we were living together. I will never forget the big conversation we had one night on my pink sofa. The reason I was no longer scared to bring it up? I’d been to see a fertility specialist who told me my egg reserve was seriously depleted – it was now or never.

By the next day, I’d convinved my boyfriend to see this doctor; who told him in no uncertain terms that if he loved me, he would try to have a child with me now. It was make or break – and we went ahead. The only trouble was that I didn’t get pregnant naturally, so after another conversation with the doctor, we embarked on IVF.

And then the worst happened: my boyfriend died midway through our IVF journey. He suffered from depression and tragically ended his life.

I continued using his sperm and my eggs via IVF. That’s how much I wanted his baby. I spent all my life savings and a friend stepped into help me with the spiralling costs of IVF – and eventually I was lucky enough to have two beautiful children.

I now tell my own kids that I hope they will have children earlier than I did; as it was a total nightmare getting pregnant. Perhaps I will advise them to freeze their eggs if they haven’t had children early on. They might not even want children – who knows.

I had my children when it was the right time for me – and the truth is, I wasn’t ready to dedicate my life to having children until my early forties. But once I was, I’ve never forgotten how much I wanted them.