As a journalist in the gender equality space – and a woman – I felt solidly prepared for the tidal wave of unsolicited opinions and well-meant advice that would follow me through my first pregnancy. Strangely, though, the most confounding conversations haven’t centred around me or my baby. They’ve been about my childfree-by-choice sister, Natalie. 

I can’t recall a time when I didn’t know that Nat, who’s eight years my senior, didn’t want kids. Most of us sit somewhere between enamoured by or indifferent to their chubby cheeks and sticky fingers: she’s firmly on team ‘indifferent’. But recently she’s spent a lot of time talking about them – because of me. We’ve both observed bizarre undercurrents of worry, suspicion and pity about her upcoming aunthood. 

Some people have been mildly curious – “how does Nat feel about it all? She doesn’t like kids much, right?” – while others are concerned a baby could spell the end of our close relationship. Like one relative, who sought reassurance from me that “Nat will love our little boy even though she doesn’t really care about kids, right?”. (Yes, she will.)

Natalie (right) and I share an unhealthy obsession with our cats.

What my sister does care about is her partner, and her pets: three cats and a dog. She’s not the only woman in her late thirties whose perfect family unit is mum, dad and fur-children. 

In recent years, surveys and population research have shown a rise in women choosing not to start a family until they’re older, if at all. There’s also been much more willingness to explore the reasons why – cost of living, the climate crisis, political unrest, rejecting ill-fitting gender expectations and more opportunities to make different life choices, to name a few. 

Two years ago, as numerous leaders voiced concerns about their nations’ futures amid plummeting birth rates, South Korea’s ‘4B trend’ found its way into Western headlines. Since the early 2010s, young women across the nation – which boasts both one of the world’s lowest birth rates and one of the OECD’s worst gender pay gaps – have been actively rejecting four traditional expectations: marriage, motherhood, heterosexual relationships and sex. 

In 2025, researchers from the University of Hampshire noted a 45 percent increase in the number of US women aged 20-29 not having children compared to previous years: 5.7 million more than they’d expected. 

This cultural shift, coupled with the fact that I’m not remotely concerned about my sister’s choices, left me bewildered about why other people seemed to care so much. 

If I wasn’t worried, why were they? I asked Natalie what she thought their main motivations were.

She believes most questioners can be divvied into two categories: those afraid her indifference will lead her to emotionally distance herself from people who love her; and those who – perhaps unconsciously – feel pity. 

That second category stings. “It’s like, ‘we pity you because we know something you don’t and we’re sorry you’re not able to fix yourself and get there’,” Nat told me. 

Fielding these questions also makes her feel like she has to “be the spokesperson of some invisible movement. There’s such confidence that it’s binary and they’re right and you’re wrong”. 

It’s worth noting here that I have plenty of friends who, for their own reasons, don’t want to procreate but are desperate to be added to our babysitting roster. While the choice is mired in a sludge of norms, expectations and pressures, there is no one reason that any of us either wants, or doesn’t want, our own children. 

What is clear to me is this: if the person you’re wondering about doesn’t bring it up, probably don’t ask. 

But there are exceptions to every rule and, as Natalie’s baby sister, I consider myself that exception. Mid-conversation about her new kitten, Fezzik, I asked once and for all: does she hate me? Does she hate my unborn baby?

“Yes. I am super evil. And probably mentally unwell. Why would you even want him around me?” 

Case closed, then.