So what if I’ve had two abortions and don’t have kids? I still want my own day like mums do on Mother’s Day

LIKE most people, one of the first things I do when I wake up is check my phone, scrolling social media to see what I’ve missed.

Only not on Mother’s Day because my feed will be swamped with photos of glorious bouquets of flowers, breakfasts served in bed and cards made lovingly by tiny hands.

I don’t have kids, it’s my choice, and I’ve had two terminations, but what about those of us who choose not to be mums and are forgotten about not just on Mother’s Day but on every other day of the year?

Where's my card? My flowers? My daffodils on a tray?

I have devoted hours to baby showers, endured endless lunches with sticky-fingered toddlers throwing food around, and got myself stuck on slides at soft play, making sure friends with kids know I will always show up for them, no matter what.

And, over the years I’ve spent hundreds of pounds on gifts for baby showers, kids’ birthdays and Christmases.

But I’ll get nothing in return.

Where is the tiny bit of acknowledgement for all the good things childless women contribute to society – where is our day?

I don’t hear my friends asking me how I am, yet I make it a priority to check in with them often.

It’s a one-way street and I don’t get the same recognition, or care, because I haven’t had a child.

There's a suggestion that I can’t possibly understand stress either, because I haven’t experienced looking after a bawling baby or toddler 24/7, or tackled the school run

Ellen Manning

My decision not to become a mum hasn’t been an easy one and at 42, I’ve been through the painful journey of two terminations.

While my firefighter husband Jamie, also 42, and I had toyed with the idea of having children when we were younger, when I accidentally fell pregnant in my mid-twenties, we decided we weren’t ready to be parents.

Fast forward a few years when I was nearing 30 and it happened again, but it wasn’t that we weren’t ready – we realised we didn’t want children at all.

But does that make it right that those of us who don’t have kids should feel inferior?

Especially when record numbers of women are like me, choosing not to have babies.

According to the ONS, more than half (50.1 per cent) of women in England and Wales born in 1990 were without a child as they turned 30.

They were the first generation to do so.

‘I’m not allowed to say I’m tired'

Given that a whopping £1.6billion was spent on Mother’s Day in 2024, could we not assign some of that cash to a day devoted to celebrating non-mums?

Especially as we’re not quite the ‘minority’ group we once were.

According to a recent study by investment bank Morgan Stanley, by 2030 approximately 45 per cent of women aged 25–44 will be not only childless, but also single.

The tide is turning, yet women in my shoes are judged and labelled selfish.

Then there are the barbed comments from mum friends.

I’m not allowed to say I’m tired because I ‘can’t possibly know what tired is’.

Real tiredness feels like a feeling reserved for women whose sleep is constantly broken due to kids.

There's a suggestion that I can’t possibly understand stress either, because I haven’t experienced looking after a bawling baby or toddler 24/7, or tackled the school run.

I sit in awkward silence as mum friends talk about their kids for hours, either oblivious or not caring that I am unable to participate because I don’t have any.

Who wants to be the woman in the corner who isn’t special enough to merit the extra special treatment women with kids get to enjoy?

Ellen

I have no doubt being in the ‘mum club’ is a great feeling, but it’s definitely an exclusive gang and if you’re not in it, you may as well go home.

TV presenter and model Kelly Brook, 45, recently spoke of her sadness at losing friends due to her decision not to have kids.

But instead of finding compassion for Kelly, mums took to X (formerly Twitter) to confess they too had ditched their childless friends because they couldn’t ‘possibly understand’ what it’s like for them.

It’s the ultimate insult.

I don’t disagree with Mother’s Day – mums deserve recognition on the one day they can call their own. But for those of us who are childless, either because of infertility, or in my case through choice, there is no fanfare.

We’ll be relegated to the corner, watching quietly.

On Mumsnet, ‘Mother’s Day disappointment’ brings up plenty of grumbling posts from mums who fear they won’t get the treatment they deserve this Sunday.

Welcome to my world. Some might argue that women like me have International Women’s Day.

But it isn’t quite the same, is it?

Of course, I treat my own mum on Mother’s Day. I make sure she knows I recognise the sheer weight of motherhood and that I appreciate it.

While Mother’s Day is a joyous occasion for so many, this year spare a thought for how painfully hard it is for women without children – especially those who can’t have them, but even those of us who choose not to.

One swanky bar near where I live promises ‘free pink fizz for all mums’ on Mother’s Day. Well, that instantly rules me out.

Another place advertises a ‘pot plant for all mums and expectant mums’.

I think I’ll be staying in. After all, who wants to be the woman in the corner who isn’t special enough to merit the extra special treatment women with kids get to enjoy?