London-based Kiwi, Sophie Hallwright is like many mid-30-somethings: childless with no immediate plans to start a family. Why not? Well, let’s start with her bank account.
I’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. It feels so innate and natural that I’ve often questioned whether it’s a true desire of mine or just society’s expectations filtered through me. But, after years of soul-searching, I can say with confidence: I do want to raise a child. I know it would be unbelievably difficult – but also the most rewarding, joy-filled role I could ever take on.
That said, there was a period where I tried to be chill about the whole idea. “If I meet the right person, maybe,” I’d say, as if motherhood would be the byproduct of some great love affair – not a standalone fulfillment of a dream. “I don’t want kids just for the sake of it,” I’d declare, distancing myself from the image of the broody, baby-obsessed woman that all my single male friends seemed terrified of.
Now, in my mid-thirties and still single, I find myself no closer to parenthood than I was straight out of uni. I’ve thought about freezing my eggs – of course I have. But by the time I came around to the idea, I realised the price tag – a casual £7000 (NZ$15,600) – wasn’t exactly in my 2025 budget.
Then the question shifted: would I consider using those eggs without a partner if my biological clock genuinely started winding down? The answer these days is yes. In 2025, family looks different – two mums, two dads, solo parents, chosen families. You get to build your own version of what family means.
Motherhood without losing myself
But honestly? Right now, I can’t even afford to be a dog mum. I would make a stunning sausage dog owner. But between vet insurance, dog-sitting fees, and the likelihood of a pricey slipped disc (apparently very common amongst my favourite dog breed), even that feels out of reach. Through every interview we’ve done with women on our podcast, one thing has become abundantly clear to me: I don’t want motherhood to consume my entire identity and capacity.
I know some readers will think, how selfish. That I’m not “cut out” for motherhood if I want to retain part of myself in the process. But hear me out. I want to be a mum who uses her brain. Who works, earns money, exercises, meditates. I want to show up for my kids present and energised – not depleted and resentful. And to mother like that? It takes resources. A LOT of resources.
The reality is: one salary wouldn’t cut it. I’d need money for my child’s swim lessons, dance classes, a babysitter, childcare. That version of motherhood feels unattainable unless I meet someone who is 6’5″, has blue eyes, and works in finance. Even then, that’s only one hurdle. The financial one.
The looming collective reality
There’s also the persistent climate anxiety humming in the background. Millennials aren’t being dramatic – it’s science. A recent Pew Research study found that 44% of non-parents under 40 cited climate change as a reason they’re not planning to have kids. I think about this often. If Greta Thunberg skipped school at 11 to fight for the planet’s survival, what kind of world would my hypothetical child inherit 30 years from now?
I don’t want to add to the pile – literally. Disposable nappies take hundreds of years to decompose. There are already more people on this planet than our ecosystems can sustainably support. So when I think about parenting, I can’t help but weigh my individual dreams against that looming collective reality.
And then there’s the patriarchy. (Oh yes, we’re going there.) We’ve been sold the myth that women can “have it all” but where’s the infrastructure to support that? Where’s the affordable childcare? The paid parental leave? The career support post-maternity? The stats are bleak: in the UK, full-time childcare costs an average of £14,800 (NZ$33,124) per year per child, and 43% of mothers say childcare costs have made them consider leaving work entirely.
It shouldn’t be radical to want children and a career. And it shouldn’t be normal to feel financially stretched beyond imagination.
Bank account as birth control
I love kids. I love the idea of raising kind, empathetic humans who do good in the world. But right now, my bank account is the best form of birth control I know. And with inflation and the cost-of-living crisis, I don’t see that changing any time soon.
I want to see a narrative shift – where choosing not to have kids isn’t treated like some tragic failure of womanhood. Where the decision is met with curiosity, not pity. Some of us are out here just trying to pay our electricity bills. The idea of being able to keep a human alive – who grows faster than a watermelon and needs new clothes every month – is, frankly, laughable.
I also want to see more pressure on men. More dads taking parental leave. More employers supporting both parents. More acknowledgement that creating a life doesn’t mean sacrificing yours, and that parenting isn’t a solo act assigned by chromosomes.
If we want birth rates to rise and for people to be genuinely excited about having kids – we need structural change. From governments. From workplaces. From society. And we need a world that still exists in 30 years.
So yes, Mum and Dad. You’ll need to wait a little longer for those grandkids.