This is Part 3 of my Baby Shamers series, originally published on Life-With-Leah.com. It is the most personal one yet, written from a completely new chapter of my life.

The Ticking Clock I Couldn’t Ignore

If you followed me on Life-With-Leah.com, you might remember the original Baby Shamers rant in 2016 and the update I wrote in Baby Shamers 2 in 2019. Those posts were written during two very different eras of my life, and people had a lot to say about both. Part 3 is not just another update. This one is coming from a woman who has lived more life, survived more bullshit, and is finally saying the quiet parts louder.

Since the last Baby Shamers post, I have lived what feels like an entire lifetime. I got married and thought I would have a child, and then… I didn’t. I am honestly grateful it did not happen for a hundred reasons I could not have seen back then. When I finally started dating again after my divorce, I felt the infamous ticking clock for the first time in my life. Well, at least the first time it was loud and I could not ignore it.

I never prioritized being a mom. I always assumed I would become one. I never built my life around it.

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The Memory That Never Left Me

There is one memory that has stayed with me since the third grade. My mom remembers it too. My teacher, Mrs. Burke, was pregnant with twins. We were lining up for recess at Bethany Lutheran, and I do not remember what another student said, but I remember looking at my teacher and saying something like, “I don’t think I can have kids.”

Eight years old.
No real reason.
Just this strange, intuitive knowing.

It did not dictate my life. Trust me, I spent the next two decades dating the wrong men and pouring myself into my career. Still, the memory stayed with me, sitting quietly in the background as the years went on.

Fast forward through my life. When Dave and I met, we fell fast. He had raised three great kids as a single dad and felt complete. Meanwhile, I had finally met the partner I once imagined I would marry and have children with, but life had already gone a different direction for both of us. By the time we found each other, the kid chapter simply was not on the table anymore.

Living in the Space Between Ache and Freedom

Some days that choice felt like one of the hardest decisions I have ever made. Other days it felt like the easiest. I still have so much I want to see and do and create. There are moments when the inside jokes and the shared history between Dave and his kids ache in a place I did not know existed. It is the quiet reminder that I will never have my own version of that bond.

Then there are days when I feel wide open, almost weightless. I have had years to be free and do what I want when I want with no obligations, and even now I am here for them, but I am not the authority. I live suspended between longing and liberation, and both feel equally true.

I have always been a little jealous of people who knew for sure. The ones who always dreamed of being parents. The ones who always knew they did not want children. The extremes seemed clearer.

I have always lived in the middle.
I wanted freedom, adventure, a career, autonomy.
I also have a lot of love to give.
I had baby names picked out since the 90s.
I had dreams where I saw my future children. Two, at the most. They lived in the city with me and my partner. They traveled with us. They were happy.

Sometimes that dream still knocks the wind out of me. I feel it in my chest, in my breath, in the way my eyes sting for a moment before I pull myself back. Women have children into their early and mid-forties, but that is almost certainly not going to be my path. I feel at peace with that on most days. On other days, the ache sneaks in. It is the emotional conflict that so many women live in and rarely say out loud.

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Learning How to Belong Without a Guidebook

After nearly twenty years of living on my own, I now live with Dave and his three young adult children. It is a world with its own rhythm, a mix of love, upheaval, routine, and surprise. It does not look like the family I once imagined, but it feels real and right in a way I did not expect.

What people do not talk about enough is how little guidance exists for this stage of life.
When you have a child of your own, or even adopt a baby or small child, there is an entire ecosystem of support around you. There are books like What to Expect When You’re Expecting, parenting classes, mommy groups, blogs, podcasts, YouTube channels, magazines, and articles for every stage of development.

But when you become a stepparent, or in my case a live-in partner with no formal title, the resources thin out fast.

There is no manual for stepping into a family that existed before you.
There is no guidebook for bonding with young adults who already know who they are.
There is no chapter on how to find your place, your role, or your boundaries.

I have searched for websites, articles, YouTube videos, anything that could help me understand this space, and there is shockingly little out there. It is its own emotional wilderness.

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The Question I’m Still Asked: “Don’t You Want One of Your Own?”

And naturally, that leads to the question I have been asked more times than I can count:

“But don’t you want one of your own?”

Sigh.

I understand why people ask. Most are not trying to be rude. But the answer is layered.

Would I have loved to have a child of my own, especially after meeting the right partner?
Yes.

But I am in my early forties now. I am used to my lifestyle. I live with three other humans Dave raised on his own. I am part of their world in a very real way. I am good. I have made my peace.

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The Assumptions That Never Seem to End

If I rewind again to the time before Dave, I thought I wanted to have a child with my ex. It became painfully clear that it was not going to happen, and there were layers to that reality. That was hard at the time. It makes sense now.

When I chose Dave, knowing he was finished having kids, some family and friends worried I would lose my chance. A few gently suggested I think twice. They meant well, even if their comments landed heavily. But my instincts were loud. He was worth choosing, and from early on, he and his kids made me feel included in a way that felt genuine and real.

But not everyone reacted that way.

Even long before Dave, some people made assumptions that were both rude and wildly inaccurate.

1. That I would not make a good mom because I like going out.
2. That I never wanted children because I built a career.
3. That I waited too long and simply aged out, so better luck next time.

It has been astonishing.

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The Only Question That Really Matters

And honestly, at the end of the day, a single question keeps repeating in my mind.

Why is any of this anyone else’s business?

And to be fair, I understand that a lot of the questions come from curiosity. Some come from cultural conditioning. Some come from family and friends who mean well but still do not realize how heavy their “harmless” comments can land. But intention does not cancel impact, and curiosity does not grant access to my most personal decisions.

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Choosing My Life Without Apology

At this point in my life, I no longer feel the need to justify my choices. I do not owe anyone an explanation for why I have the family I have, or the life I have, or the path I chose. My body is mine. My choices are mine. My story is not up for debate, and neither is my worth.

I am done handing out emotional permission slips to people who want to validate or invalidate my decisions. You do not get a vote in my life. You do not get to tell me what my family should look like. You do not get to decide whether my version of motherhood, partnership, or womanhood “counts.”

And if you are living in the gray space like I am, balancing the ache and the freedom, the longing and the peace, the “maybe” and the “not anymore,” I hope you feel seen. I hope you know you are not alone. Your life does not have to match anyone else’s blueprint to be whole. You are allowed to choose the version of family, love, and identity that fits you, even if it makes no sense to anyone else.

Because at the end of the day, the only person who has to live your life is you.

Cheers,
Leah