Agnieszka writes:
I’m 32 and have been with my boyfriend for almost two years. We love each other deeply, share values, laugh a lot, and he treats me with respect and care. The issue is: he has been very clear that he doesn’t want children, ever. I, on the other hand, have always dreamed of being a mother.
At first, I told myself I could compromise because everything else about our relationship is so good, and I didn’t want to throw away something so rare and precious. But lately, the thought of giving up on motherhood makes me incredibly sad.
Friends tell me I’d be crazy to leave such a good man over something that might not matter later, while others say I’d be crazy to stay and hope he changes his mind.
I feel torn between love for him and loyalty to myself. Do I sacrifice the love I have for him or the desire of motherhood?
Dear Agniezska,
Having to face such doubts must be hard in so many different ways. On the one hand, you have a partner who seems perfect. On the other, you are longing for motherhood. How is one supposed to choose?
I have thought of a possible path that could help us, and I think the first step we need to take is to clarify the nature of that longing.
Family structures have existed since prehistoric times. This might suggest that reproduction is a natural behaviour for human beings: the preservation of the species is, after all, a biological instinct common to all animals.
However, anthropological and sociological research shows that, unlike other animals, motherhood understood as a vocation or a personal desire is not an instinct but a social construct, which shifts and reshapes itself depending on the historical and cultural context.
Elisabeth Badinter, in The Myth of Motherhood (1980), argued that the figure of the mother as we know it today (utterly devoted to her children and seen as the peak of female fulfilment) began to be idealised in Europe during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, for specific reasons: urbanisation pushed families into smaller homes, separate from the wider community; work increasingly moved outside the home, leaving mothers with the responsibility for childcare and education; and bourgeois morality placed the nuclear family at the symbolic centre of society, constructing the ideal of “total motherhood.”
Before the eighteenth century, motherhood was certainly essential for the survival of family and community, but the notion of motherhood as a woman’s absolute vocation did not exist. It was more of a social duty than a personal achievement. Not every woman truly longed to be a mother, but this was never discussed: it was simply taken for granted. Today, in contrast, motherhood is seen as a matter of desire. And while we often insist on treating that desire as universal, it simply isn’t.
This is why I invite you to reflect: is your desire truly your own, or is it shaped by social expectations? Heidegger can help us here. According to him, human beings can live in two modes: the inauthentic, when we conform to what others do, to society and its habits (“I want children because that’s what everyone does”); and the authentic, when we take responsibility for our own choices, facing the fears and possibilities that define us. Authenticity does not mean living in isolation or doing extraordinary things – it simply means taking ownership of one’s life. Reflection, in this sense, is not only philosophical but deeply practical: it is about recognising that you have the agency to shape your own path.
The longing for motherhood can therefore be authentic (for some, it represents their deepest fulfilment) or inauthentic, if it is just following the crowd. For you, the real question is why you dream of being a mother.
If you discover that this desire belongs to your truest and most authentic self, then ignoring it would mean ignoring your telos. The Greek word telos means “end”, “purpose”, or “goal.” For Aristotle, everything has a natural telos: for example, the acorn’s telos is to become an oak tree. Human beings too have a telos: the full realisation of our nature.
If your current relationship prevents you from reaching that telos – and for you, motherhood is part of it – then you may need to face the painful possibility of letting it go. Ignoring your authentic self would not bring happiness.
If, however, you come to see that motherhood is not an expression of your true self but rather an image absorbed from your surroundings, then this relationship might already contain everything you need in order to thrive. You could even discover alternative life projects you had never imagined, ones that allow you to realise your potential in other ways. In that case, happiness could very well include your relationship with your partner, without children.
I cannot tell you which path to take. But I can tell you this: always choose yourself.
If you have a question you’d like to see published in this column, feel free to email me at notiziedalcuore@gmail.com. For privacy reasons, I’ll change the names before publishing.
If you’re looking for coaching or guidance, don’t hesitate to reach out at hello@philosophicalhearts.com. I’d be happy to support you on your journey.
