The Four Fs That Keep Fence-Sitters Undecided About Having Kids or Staying Childfree
- 3 days ago
- 9 min read
A guest post by Jordy Snyder
Jordy Snyder joined me on The Kids or Childfree Podcast in March 2026 to talk about the fears that were holding her back from becoming a mom – and how she ultimately overcame them. She’s now the mother to a toddler and couldn’t be happier with her decision. Her episode resonated with so many listeners who share Jordy’s fears, so we invited her to share more insights here on the blog! -Keltie
When I take my daughter to the park, I seem like any other parent there. What you don’t see are the years I spent stuck on the fence about if I wanted to become a mother or not.
As a fence-sitter, I was immobilized for a long time. In episode 98 of The Kids of Childfree Podcast, I shared my story about feeling “frozen” about the decision to have children. My feelings and fears dominated my thinking, my processing, and my ability to just be. There were moments I could ignore or redirect these feelings, but for the most part, I felt a growing pressure to decide.
The feelings dictated every second of my waking hours and impacted my beliefs on what I was – and more importantly was NOT – capable of. I worried: What would happen to me if I went down the path of motherhood? Would it fundamentally dismantle the “me” I’d been working to build since childhood?
In this blog, I’ll explore four themes that got me stuck and how I overcame them to ultimately decide.
Fear
I was paralyzed by fear of the unknown. I feared how caring for kids would change my current life, from my day-to-day schedule to my ability to stay late at work, or sleep in, or spend money, or wander or be spontaneous or travel. The list never ended.
Above all, I feared my ability (or my inability) to navigate a huge and life-changing transition. I didn’t know if the new chapter of motherhood would be something I would deeply regret.
I feared the weight that this decision had. What if I made the wrong choice? I would not be able to reverse course and go back to my childfree life.
Believe me, you're not the only one hung up about the regret threat.
I have a 2-hour On Demand class to help you explore that fear.
If I said yes to motherhood, someone would be counting on me for food, safety, and financial, physical, and emotional growth. It would be a huge responsibility, and one that could fundamentally change my identity and the course of my life. I was afraid that all those changes would be negative ones.
Becoming a mom felt like such a heavy, sudden, irreversible change and on top of that, everyone else seemed to accept it without question, or at least without the level of questioning and uncertainty I faced. I didn’t hear other women my age admitting the selfish thoughts I had about how my life would change for the worse. This fear made it hard to say that having children is something I “wanted”.
How did I overcome fear about the nature of the decision?
I looked back at other hard experiences over my lifetime, specifically at times I made a decision that would require me to be 100% in. I saw that I’d navigated those situations, so I began to think that maybe I could do this new thing, too.
Friends
I am so lucky to have a wonderful community with several close friendships. The long-standing friendships I’ve lost along the way are losses I still mourn. I feel the pain and grief of those losses deeply. There have been periods in my life where my friendships carried me, helped me through depressive episodes, and nurtured me.
I worried I would lose the friendships I’d worked so hard to maintain if I became a mother. I’d be so busy. Plus, I’d be in a different stage of life than my single or childfree friends, and being the only one with a child might make me feel isolated. Also, I worried that my motherhood experience could cause pain to some friends who wanted children but didn’t have them.
I feared being lonely and isolated as a parent, and I worried I’d find myself without the support system I’ve built and I’m used to leaning on. I worried this change would cause insurmountable and irreversible loss.
How did I overcome my fear of losing friends?
My husband and I talked about the importance of friends in our lives, and we committed to continuing our active involvement in our community. We made countless decisions and plans to build our child/children into our lives, to foster our and our daughter’s relationships with our friends, and to support each other in having childfree time with our respective friends.
And I’m happy to say, it’s working! I still have Ladies’ Nights. We still go to friends' houses for dinner or grab drinks with friends. We still participate in fantasy football. And best of all, now our daughter is a part of that incredible village.
Fun
I really enjoyed being a DINK (dual income no kids). I loved having the extra time and money to be able to go out to eat, explore, and travel. I enjoyed having time with my partner and time to be by myself, as well as the flexibility to manage that time as I pleased. I valued my fun and my freedom, and they felt pivotal to my mental health and wellbeing.
My internal narrator, an old “friend” that is a mix of anxiety, depression, and perfectionist, reminded me that it takes so much to take care of myself and to be a functional adult, what with taxes, health insurance, work, cooking etc. How could I even fit another person into my life, when I already felt limited in the time and energy I had to do regular life administrative things, let alone fun things? If I needed to be responsible for someone else’s food, doctor, clothing, school, playdates, it would surely eat my time. Maybe I wasn’t willing to give up those selfish freedoms so soon, and maybe I would never be able to.
On top of that, I had major FOMO (fear of missing out). I hated missing fun activities like trips, dinner parties, group outings, and adventures. How would prolonged FOMO impact me? Would I resent being a parent? How would I fare when parenting simultaneously would be more stressful than my current life and would limit my opportunities to access the outlets I normally lean on to relieve stress?
Has your fear of missing out gotten you stuck? If you're reading this blog post, I know it has!
I have a 2-hour On Demand class to help you find your way forward.
What if having a kid was something I felt pressured to say yes to, but that I didn’t really think would be fun? Would it steal the unencumbered life I had and burden me instead? Would it limit my freedom and keep me from what I really wanted for the future?
How did I overcome the fear of losing out on fun and freedom?
Seeing other friends navigate parenthood showed me that we, too, could make things work. I saw that things would improve, albeit not immediately and not all at once. I saw that we could still have fun and be free while being parents, that we could both have time to ourselves and with our friends, and together as well.
During my pregnancy, I felt the need to assert my independence by doing something for myself, to prove to myself that I could still be free and have fun. So, at 36 weeks pregnant, I found myself on stage, committing to a character I’d created by acting like a crazy three-headed dog on all fours on the stage of the showcase performance for my level 4 improv class.
When my daughter was almost 7 months old, we took her to France for a week of wine, castles, and boats.
Yes, there are moments I still mourn the freedom I once had. My nights are less spontaneous. Now, each night at bedtime, all three of us hang out in my daughter’s room as a family, playing and reading together. It’s fun, albeit a different type of fun than I used to experience.
It's hard work to make sure life’s not all tasks and errands. We sometimes have to work harder to plan and make time for fun and freedom. I know it may look different over time (I still dread the day when my weekends are spent at little league practice), but it still exists.
Failure
This was a big question on my mind: What if I fail? What if being a mom was something for which I lacked aptitude, intuition, or adequacy? What if I couldn’t give enough, love enough, handle executive or logistic functioning enough? The consequences of failing at motherhood would be detrimental not only to my own life, but to a child’s life and to my husband’s life.
My internal narrator told me I was inadequate, incapable, and not good enough, that I’d be a burden to my child. That narrator reminded me repeatedly that sometimes, I can’t cope with the responsibilities that come with being an adult in this world, and I break down. So how I could I become a parent?
What if I was OK as a parent for a while, and then, all of a sudden, a day comes when all I can do is cry or sleep and need extra TLC to cope? How much more would this happen when I have the constant demands of parenting, putting strains on my relationship and on my ability to take care of myself to survive?
And what if I passed these awful mental health challenges on to a child through either genes or behavioral exposure?
I’d already included failure as a mom as part of my narrative, and every time I thought about the decision and my future, it reinforced this awful, critical narrative.
How did I overcome the fear of failure?
A tiny internal whisper told me that I have been able to overcome hard things and have been able to do them successfully. There were no huge or irreversible consequences for failing in those cases. And maybe this would be the same.
In my mental health journey, I’ve found a wonderful therapist and use medication that helps to soften my internal narrator and to amplify that tiny whisper. Once I learned that I could continue both of these things during pregnancy and nursing, I felt some relief. I encourage people to explore therapy and medication and find what helps you. This is no small task, and it’s ongoing, but it’s important.
Once I became pregnant, I utilized many other supportive structures and resources to maintain mental health, sleep, and nutrition. I took full advantage of my employer's paid parental leave policy and added both sick and annual leave to give myself time to acclimate to my new identity, to bond with my daughter, and physically recover.
Throughout my pregnancy, I spent time with friends and neighbors who were also pregnant and due around the same time. I got a lot out of swapping stories about our experiences, and I took time to do some podcast learning about parenting. I spent time outside.
As soon as we announced our pregnancy (at 19 weeks, after learning our baby did not inherit the genes for a life-altering condition), my fears about failure as a mom quieted. My body was doing it, and so could I.
I worked with a doula to support me leading up to labor (a thing I feared as well), and I worked with a post-partum doula to help coach me. What she really did was remind me that I was doing everything right and doing it well. I visited the local lactation consultants before labor and afterward.
Once we had our baby, our community showed up for us. Our family supported us, and our friends made meals and held the baby and even babysat to give us some time to connect with each other.
The F That I Found in Motherhood: Fabulous
In all my time fence-sitting, I never considered the miraculous, positive what ifs that this decision could bring: immense love, wonder, and unbreakable connection. I didn’t see the worlds my daughter and any future children could open for me and my partner, or what new levels of connection with my own parents and other parents in my life I would discover. Every day, I gain new understanding about what’s important.
My days are full of joy, fun, and laughter. And at the end of the day, I’m more me than I’ve ever been. And why wouldn’t I be? Parenting provides me with an opportunity to tap into my boundless love, exercise my deep empathy, connect vulnerably, be silly and creative, and enjoy the minute wonders of the world.
I’m in total and utter awe of my daughter, Maya, and how she is learning, and growing, and who she is becoming. There are countless moments of hysterical laughing and ear-to-ear grins that she brings me in the most mundane moments.
I’m not only fine, but fabulous, and a phenomenal mother. I can give so much more time, patience, support, warmth, creativity, and milk (I nursed her through 2!) than I thought myself capable. My daughter feels trust for me. She feels safe and nurtured with me, and with those foundations, she has already started decades before me on her path to being a confident, independent, and self-knowing girl.
I only wish I could offer my past and present self as much trust, gentleness, and unwavering love as I’m able to give Maya. If I could, I’d be able to conquer the world. I’m working on it, and Maya is helping me every day to know myself, my power, my capability – all of which are integral to my identity.
I’m so happy and fulfilled. I’m proud of myself for overcoming the concerns about loss of fun and friends and for quieting the influence of fear and failure. Finally, I chose a side of the fence, and it’s the right one for me.
