I’m 39 and, for the first time in my life, I’m confronting something that’s hard to say out loud: I …

I’m 39 now, and for the first time ever, I’m admitting something that’s hard to actually say out loud: I regret not having kids. It’s not that I never wanted to be a mumit’s just, I always waited for the right moment and the right man. For over fifteen years, every relationship I had came with this idea that if this bloke wasn’t the one, then it wouldnt be fair to bring a child into the world. So I just let time slip by.

My first long relationship started when I was 22. We were together for nearly five years, living together, talking about marriage, family, all that. But any time I brought up children, he’d change the subject. He kept saying he wanted more stabilityholidays, savings, a bit of living first. So I adjusted. I convinced myself there was plenty of time. When we eventually broke up, I kept reassuring myself it was for the bestnot to have a child in a relationship that wasnt working.

Then came marriage. At 29, I thought, this is itnows the time. But that marriage lasted less than three years. I uncovered affairs, lies, hidden debts. I walked away childless, with no extra responsibilities, feeling free, but honestly with a bit of emptiness I couldnt explain. Again, I told myself Id done the right thingnot having a baby with someone who never deserved it.

At 33, I found myself in another serious relationship. He said he wanted kids, but not any real commitment. He expected me to fit into his life, his schedule, his way of doing things. When I tried to have a serious conversation about actually starting a family, he came back with, when the relationship reaches that stage. So, I left. Yet again, I was alone, convincing myself I was making sensible decisions.

Now, at 39, I have no children; no steady partner. Ive got a good job, plenty of independence, and my own little flat. But some evenings, I walk in the door, toss my bag onto the sofa, and the silence feels heavy. I watch my friends chatting about school runs, homework, vaccinations, teenage dramasas hard as those things clearly are, theres something there Im missing: someone to call me mum.

For the first time, Im actually considering something I never allowed myself to think: I could have been a single mum. I could have stopped waiting for Mr Right and just chosen to be a mum, regardless. Could have created my own family in a different way. But I was so caught up in doing everything properly, that in the end, I did nothing at all.