According to the Pew Research Center, the number of American women without children has risen to an all-time high of 1 in 5, a jump since the 1970s when 1 in 10 women ended their childbearing years without having a baby. But many women without kids still have what we think of as a "maternal instinct"—an innate desire to love, care for and nurture someone or something.
There's a new kind of parenthood that many women in their late 30's and early 40's are gravitating to—one that doesn't involve tucking a little one in bed at night, or nursing him through a cold—but that is fulfilling nonetheless. We have found a way to be mothers without actually being parents.
My choice to try and parent a group of girls who weren't my own was a very conscious decision. The beginning of my relationship with a group of seven smart and precocious fourth- and fifth- graders began one afternoon when I was sitting on the toilet. I had just seen the results of yet another negative pregnancy test. It had been nearly two years of trying and this last round of IUI (intra uterine insemination) had failed, just like all the rest. I picked up the test and gave it a good shake. I knew it wasn't a Magic 8 Ball—I couldn't just expect a different result to appear. But I would have taken a Try Again or even a Too Soon to Tell over the harshness of a simple, non-negotiable no. The tears were welling up in my eyes and I was gearing up for a good cry of the Sally Fields in Steel Magnolias caliber when the phone rang. It was Anita from the Girl Scouts' New York City headquarters asking when I could come in for a training session.
I had filled out an online volunteer form a few weeks prior, after a soul-searching talk with myself during which I tried to determine why I so desperately wanted to be a mother. I was always into Girl Power, but more in a Spice Girls-listening type of way than in an actually-doing-something way. I thought, maybe if I couldn't have a baby of my own, I could have several daughters. I could teach them how to pitch a tent, make complicated knots or start a fire with two sticks. Okay, so I didn't actually know how to do any of those things, but still, maybe I had something to offer.
The higher-ups at Girl Scouts assumed I was a parent of one of the girls in my newly-forming troop. Why else would I devote the time and energy to such an endeavor? My friends and family seemed perplexed that in the midst of starting a round of IVF I was spending so much time arranging trips to places like a local vet hospital and buying supplies so that my girls could decoupage autobiographical posters. The girls in my troop assumed I was a teacher. It seemed odd to everyone that I wanted to mentor them—after all, what was in it for me?
Anita, 46, of New York City found an outlet for her unconscious desire to nurture closer to home. Like many women her age, she had a moment when she realized that kids were absent from her otherwise full life.
"I never made having kids a priority," she says, reminiscing on past relationships and would-be fathers to a child that never was. "At 39 I thought—maybe I should have kids. I thought about having them with a gay friend, or adopting or using a sperm donor, but I wasn't seriously considering it. I wished a relationship had happened that would have made it possible. If I had met the guy I'm with now 10 years ago we would have had kids," she says.
Instead, Anita has had a strong, lifelong relationship with her nieces—now ages 22 and 25. "I saw my nieces through all their milestones." When Anita's nieces both chose to attend her alma mater, she was very gratified. "It was like the way a kid might follow in their parents' footsteps—but they wanted to follow my path," she says. "They are like surrogate children to me."
While women certainly experience more societal pressure to procreate than men, a recent British survey revealed that men actually feel more depressed by childlessness than women do. Perhaps that's because women are more likely to seek out alternate ways of parenting.