Image: Andrew Fox/Getty
With birthrates falling, more women over 50 are discovering they may never be grandmothers. The loss is real—and society’s judgment makes it worse.
Gazing out at her tidy suburban backyard, Tanya Leslie* sighed. “This lawn ought to be filled with toys, a swing set, a kiddie pool—but no,” she said. The 66-year-old retired media exec is having trouble dealing with the news that her grown son, recently split from his fiancé, doesn’t want to have children. Ever. It’s been a hard nut to swallow, since Leslie had been looking forward to grandkids.“Do I feel cheated?” she repeated my question sadly. “You bet I do!”
Leslie’s not alone. Lots of midlife moms see grandkids as the sweet reward for decades of juggling family, career, and everything else. But what happens when the babies never come? For many, it leaves a quiet ache—and an even louder sense of judgment. Recent data shows the U.S. birthrate is at a historic low of 1.6 children per woman, which means more of us are facing a future without grandchildren than ever before.
It’s leaving us—the mothers of those women, and their men—at a loss that’s no less acute for being the loss of what never was. “Women have been culturally conditioned to believe that grandkids are the golden ticket to satisfaction in midlife and beyond,” noted clinical social worker Pearl Ketover Prilik, DSW, author of Stepmothering: A Different Kind of Love. “Not having those little ones can be quite painful.”
What’s worse than wannabe bubbes getting the short end of the stick? Society’s disdain for our dismay, which has led us to carry a burden of quiet shame. It’s like: We want grandkids, we can’t have them, and somehow it feels like our fault.
I’m not waiting for grandkids myself—I’m childless—but as an observer of cultural convolutions I’ve noticed how society scorns those who don’t fit the traditional grandma script. It’s difficult enough for anyone saddened by a future without grandchildren. The last thing we deserve is the world treating us like we’ve failed some essential life test.
The Pain of Loss, Compounded
This is no Handmaid’s Tale-ish infertility nightmare come true. Instead, the drop in birthrate largely boils down to people of childbearing age opting out of offspring. It’s their decision, and probably a difficult one. But for parents yearning for grandkids, the absence can sting.
And nobody is talking about what the steep decline in birthrate means to those grappling with the grandchild drought, a silence that begets more silence. After all, how dare we bitch about unfulfilled desire? The current pronatalist political climate—which has floated “baby bonuses” and menstrual cycle classes as ways to boost the birthrate—doesn’t make things easier.
Any woman who was unmarried when pushing 30 might remember nosy probes about when she would get hitched. Not to mention equally intrusive inquiries about procreation that hadn’t happened on society’s timeline. Yet in those situations, at least we had a degree of control: We could choose to date (or not), try to conceive (or not). When it comes to grandkids we don’t have a say. That makes the pressure not only painful but unfair.
Then there’s the gender factor. A lack of grandchildren may be rougher on us than on midlife men, since our culture still defines women’s worth by family and caregiving. It’s blatant bias, and Arlene Hillerman can relate. “My husband would be thrilled if we had grandkids; he could take them fishing,” she told me. “Then again, he has fishing, and it’s fine for him to go fishing. I’m supposed to be baking cookies and reading bedtime stories, which I’d be happy to do, if that were my reality.”
Adding insult to injury, Hillerman finds herself on the outside looking in at a social strata she longs to belong to.
The Grandma Club: And the Rest of Us Looking In
“All the ladies I play cards with have grandkids,” Hillerman said. “Even the gay one!” And that gaggle of grannies can be ostracizing. Talk ultimately turns to the latest antics and accomplishments of those cherished tykes. Then the phones come out so pics can be shared. “Everyone is cooing and oohing and ahhing, and after a while I want to scream,” Hillerman said. She can’t complain about how this hurts or admit that she’s jealous, so she bites her tongue until the conversation shifts.
Kinfolk can be equally (if unintentionally) cruel. “Our last family reunion was bittersweet,” Leslie told me. “There I was, watching the little ones play with a pang in my heart, while my older sisters and cousins—they all have grandkids—were vibing me, like ‘poor Tanya!’” Beneath the surface sympathy Leslie said she felt stigmatized, “as if somehow me and my husband are to blame that our son doesn’t want to be a father.”
Where Does All That Love Go?
What makes post-menopausal women crave grandkids? A biological imperative called the “grandmother hypothesis” might be at work, in a survival-of-the-species sort of way. Beyond instinct, there’s legacy—the passing on of family values and traditions to the next generation. And of course joy: Spoiling babies is a blast.
If grandnieces and/or grandnephews are in the picture, involvement in their lives—not just on holidays, but ongoing, through their interests and activities—can be a fine grandkids substitute. What’s more, there’s no rule that you must share DNA to offer the benefits of your ethics, talents, and experience. “Working or volunteering at a school, library, or daycare center can be a rewarding use of grandmotherly potential,” Ketover Prilik said. “It’s particularly satisfying if the children are truly in need.”
Redefining Fullness Without Grandkids
Acceptance is key, and not all of us are fated to be Esther Walton. Fortunately, this presents a great opportunity for us to rewrite the rules on what life as a middle-aged woman is “expected” to be. Creating an identity outside of the grandmother role is just as empowering as being blessed with grandkids yourself—and it’s an inspiring indication of self-love.
Consider how you can best spend your time, energy, and income: adult adventure travel (no Disney duty for you!), learning a new skill or sport, pursuing civic or conservation goals, or simply seeing the plays and concerts that intrigue you instead of babysitting so your grown kids can go out on the town.
As Leslie put it: “My husband and I raised our son to be a good man, and we love him just as he is. Much as I’d enjoy grandkids, it’s his life. So rather than gripe or be envious of others, I’m counting my blessings. After all, I’ve got a life, too, and I’m living it!”
So maybe that’s the real provocation: refusing to believe our lives are any less full without a swing set and kiddie pool in the backyard. It’s not merely appreciating what we have but moving forward with optimism. Dreams have a way of shifting, reaching fruition in a way that surprises us—and the culture we live in.
*Names have been changed to protect privacy.
I have one son who has no children, I also have a favorite niece who has six children. I adore them and take every opportunity to love and support them. It brings me great joy. When talking to my grandchildren less friends, I simply ask, ‘do you like seeing photos and videos of others grandkids’ or not.
There’s another group in the grandparent heartache: the ones who DO have grandkids but can’t see them for reasons their kids won’t share. I get 2hr snippets with my granddaughter ( we live 20mins away, so distance not the issue). She’s two now. I have never had a play date with her,babysat her,fed her a meal.Just moments when rhe family all gets together. There has been no one on one time. How am I supposed to bond with her? Bake cookies, spoil her?
Yes, I have asked my son a thousand times why??? To get no answers.
The child is not isolated, she goes to daycare and the maternal grandma gets it all. My heart broke a million times in the two short years she has been on this earth. I’ve backed off, walked away,got my own life am becoming the best Auntie ever to my younger cousins kids but, the ache,the deep heartache when that beautiful baby girl of mine is unreachable.
Mind you during the snippets of time she does engage with me ever so sweetly so I KNOW there could be so much more.
I know I’m not alone in this grandparent heartache but for the life of me find it so hard to live with .
Shelly, This is such a heartbreaking reality for many grandparents, and it’s rarely talked about. It sounds like you have done everything you can to show up with love, and the ache you describe is so real. That you’ve found ways to pour that love into other little ones says a lot about your strength. I hope someday your granddaughter gets to know that bond you’re ready to give her. Thank you for being part of our community. —susan
Being one of the few in my age group and circle of family and friends who does not have g-children is fine with me because i dont have the stress and worry about as too many of them a dealing with right now. The difficult child/children is now rearing children that they weren’t willing to grow up for and parent with purpose.
Yes, the kids are cute but they’re suffering for lack of parents who are adulting. I see G-parents are carrying loads they never imagined joy included…
Sonya, That’s such an honest take, and I’m glad you shared it. We don’t talk enough about the other side of grandparenthood — the stress, the heartbreak, and the very real burdens so many grandparents are carrying because their own kids are struggling.
You’re right: cute grandbabies don’t erase the bigger challenges when the parents aren’t really ready to parent
Thank you for naming it. These are the nuances that tend to get lost…—susan
I’m also a child-free (by choice) woman, and after surviving the whole “you’ll never know the greatest love” BS, I’m now supposed to be sad about the lack of babies again?
Nope. Not playing, nor am I seeking places for my missing maternal urges. I find deeper friendships with other child-free people, where I have no need to pretend anything is wrong with me.
I’m grateful neither of my spouse’s grown children having children either. I am free to spend my entire retirement on doing as we please.
Hooray for being the Auntie only”!
Hooray for you, Happily! Thanks for sharing—and may your independence inspire others.
Also child-free by choice here. I have ALWAYS known I wouldn’t be having kids, going way back to when I was very young myself.
“You’ll regret it later!”, Mom said at my bridal shower every time some nosybottom asked ‘when’ we’d have kids. On that one, she was dead wrong.
I simply never felt that maternal pull. This year I turned 55 and I still don’t.
Regret? NO! Relief!
This supposed panic over the birth rate declining is wholly unnecessary. No one need worry: the babies will always keep on coming… except this time, we’re more informed of our choices. So yes, there will be less. The would-be Grandmas will simply have to get past it and enjoy their grandpets… just like my mom did.
Tracy, I love how unapologetic and clear you are about this — and that you knew it early on. The honesty in “Regret? NO! Relief!” is going to resonate with a lot of women who’ve felt that same disconnect between what’s expected and what they actually want.
You make such a good point about the so-called “birth rate panic.” Framing it as a crisis often ignores the fact that it’s also about women being more informed and more free to make the choice that’s right for them.
Grandpets deserve their moment in the spotlight – I celebrate my lovely grandog Poppy every change I get! —susan
I love the unapologetic clarity in this. There’s so much pressure baked into the idea that every woman should be longing for babies or grand-babies, and it’s refreshing to hear someone say, actually, I’m good right here.
That line about surviving the “greatest love” guilt trip made me laugh — so many women will relate. And you’re right: there’s nothing missing about building a life full of friendships, purpose, and freedom.
Here’s to the Auntie-only crew! Thanks for sharing. —susan
I have three sons.
Only one MAY want kids.
My other two definitely don’t want any children.
I couldn’t be happier for their decisions!
First, they aren’t the parental type and they’re smart enough to know now, in their 20s.
Second, there are too many people in the world as it is. Until we learn to take care of ourselves and each other, bringing more children into the world is irresponsible.
Third, there are too many children without parents in this country alone. It’s a global problem. A child isn’t yours because they have your genes. A child is yours because you want to grow your family, you love them unconditionally, and you want to raise and nurture a future and productive member of society, regardless.
I know I won’t be in the gran club and I am just fine with it. I’ve raised my kids and lived the school and suburban life. I love my kids more than anything, but I wouldn’t do it again for all the money in the world. The rest of my life is for me! And if I should have a grand little, they will be loved more than any other and spoiled rotten!!!
A lot of women will give me negativity for this post, but if we aren’t honest and transparent, how are we ever going to get over this ridiculous conversation?
Some people want kids/grands.
Some don’t.
Both are fine.
Those who don’t agree need to stop judging and pay attention to their own.
Carol, This is such a powerful perspective — thank you for laying it out so clearly. I think a lot of people will quietly nod along with parts of what you’ve said but don’t often feel free to say it out loud.
I especially appreciate your point about redefining what makes a family. That line — “A child isn’t yours because they have your genes” — really lands. And your acceptance of whatever the future brings, whether or not you ever join the “gran club,” is a refreshing counterweight to the cultural pressure so many women still feel.
You closing really hit, “Both are fine”… truly.
These are exactly the conversations we need to be having: honest, sometimes messy, but real. I’m so glad you added your voice to it.—susan
I feel for people who want to e grandparents, but for whatever reason, they are not. I have several friends in this boat. I try not to talk to them about my granddaughter too much or show them a lot of pictures or cute videos.
To paraphrase Sinead O’Connor, you do not want what you have not got—and that is a beautiful, inspiring thing. Thank you, Carol, for your comment and for your heart!
Judy, That’s such a thoughtful instinct. The longing to be a grandparent can run so deep, and it’s often invisible to everyone around them.
It’s such a delicate balance, wanting to celebrate the little one you adore without unintentionally deepening someone else’s ache.
I think many of us could learn from that kind of quiet empathy. Thank you for putting words to it.—susan