Please don’t feel sorry for me—on the contrary, I am truly happy.
One day, as I was on my way to a dermatology appointment, I found myself waiting for what felt like an eternity in the waiting room, as is often the case.
It was there that I had an encounter that deeply changed my perspective.
A woman, elegantly seated just a few chairs away, immediately caught my attention. Everything about her radiated confidence, tranquility, and a quiet grace that only comes with age.
I guessed she was around 65, but I was surprised when she told me, over the course of our conversation, that she was actually over 70!
We quickly hit it off. Her gaze was sharp, her tone calm, and her words carefully chosen. And her story… well, it was unexpected.
She shared that she had been married twice.
Her first marriage, when she was young, had been filled with love but was marred by one fundamental disagreement: she didn’t want children. She made it clear from the start, and at the time, her husband claimed to understand.
But as the years went by, his expectations shifted. Around the time she reached her thirties, he started bringing up the idea of having children again, hoping perhaps that her “maternal instinct” would eventually kick in. It never did. After many painful conversations, they decided to part ways.
Her second husband, who already had a daughter from a previous marriage, didn’t feel the need to start a new family, and their life together was simple and sweet. They were enough for each other. Sadly, he passed away prematurely, leaving her alone.
Since then, she has lived peacefully in her spacious home, surrounded by books, plants, and cherished memories, without excessive nostalgia.
“People often think children are a safeguard for old age,” she told me with a smile. “But children grow up, leave the nest, and live their own lives, as they should.”
She never wanted to have a family, and she has no regrets about that decision.
She travels, reads a lot, gets involved in charities, and leads a life she considers rich and completely free.
And then she added, with a twinkle of humor in her eyes:
— “And about that glass of water? As long as I can pay someone to bring it to me when I need it, I don’t see the problem.”
I was silent for a moment. What she said really struck me—not because I agreed with everything, but because I admired her clarity, her quiet strength, and her complete acceptance of the choices she had made in her life.
What do you think? Is it possible to be fulfilled without children, simply by choosing to stay true to oneself?