Despite all the new reproductive technologies, such as in vitro fertilization, there is still one thing that stands between women and parenthood: money. In a recent study conducted by UK fertility clinic Fertility Fairies found that only 14% of British single people are financially prepared to raise children without dependents; an average cost for raising a child from birth through 18 years old is $250k. With more women waiting until their 30s or later to have kids (and thus having less time during which they can save up), it’s no wonder young adults aren’t reproducing like before.
The “what happens if a woman never had a baby” is the question that many people are asking. The answer, according to research done by the Urban Institute, is that women who never have children will be able to afford it when they get older.
I can’t even afford a toy home, much alone a real one (Getty Images/iStockphoto)
According to a survey issued last week by the Office for National Statistics (ONS), 50.1 percent of women born in England and Wales in 1990 had not had children by the age of 30.
For the first time in history, the number of women who gave birth beyond the age of 30 outnumbered those who gave birth in their 20s or teens.
While many may be startled to learn that women are deferring parenthood until later in life, I was astounded that so many have completed such a monumental undertaking before turning the big 3-0.
Even though I’m just two years away from being classed as a geriatric mother, if I became pregnant tomorrow at the age of 33, I’d still consider myself a qualified candidate for Teen Mom. Despite the fact that the NHS will soon consider me to be beyond reproductive age, I still don’t feel ready to be a mother.
But it might be because my assessment of my own maturity and preparedness for motherhood is so closely linked to the financial milestones that individuals are expected to achieve before becoming kids.
Owning a home is a great goal, but with average house prices at an all-time high of £270,000, it’s still a long way off.
I, like many other ladies my age, dreamed of being a mother while I was still in diapers. Tiny girls used to – and presumably still do – play mother to their toy dolls, learning how to feed, dress, and wash these little plastic bundles of joy.
And, although I may have learned the basics of keeping a doll alive over 30 years ago, the toy home we shared has gone up in price from roughly £150 in the nineties (according to my mother) to £299.99 on Very.co.uk.
I couldn’t even buy a toy home, much less one that I can live in.
In the 1970s, my grandparents paid £14,750 for their house. In the 1980s, my parents’ first house cost £28,000, and in the booming 2020s, I’m anticipated to pay over half a million for an ordinary London property.
Given that I reside in London, where the average property price is £507k, purchasing a house before the age of 30 would have been unthinkable – even if I’d starved myself for a decade and spent all of my earnings on a mortgage.
I’m in a bad mood.
I imagine the ONS hasn’t attempted to persuade a twenty-something guy to commit to an exclusive relationship, much alone parenting.
It’s no surprise that the ONS also released a press release last week noting that the average age for purchasing a first house has risen from 29 to 32 in the past decade. The two are inextricably intertwined when it comes to purchasing a home and establishing a family.
But it’s not only property costs that are delaying parenthood: the cost of living has grown at an exponential pace as well. According to the ONS, a pint of milk cost 29p in 1990 and a loaf of bread cost 50p, but in 2021 and 2020, they will cost over double at 46p and £1.07, respectively.
As a result, it’s no wonder that the majority of English and Welsh women put off having children until their thirties or later.
On a more positive note, the average age of parenthood may be rising due to greater job prospects for women compared to earlier generations, rather than simple economics.
We are no longer expected to be homemakers alone, with women reaching the top of the employment ladder in a wide variety of fields. But, despite the exorbitant expense of daycare – and the fact that paternity leave uptake is at a 10-year low in 2021 – we’re still saddled with the financial burden of having children.
If only we lived in a culture where workplace creches and regulations allowing parents to bring their children to work were the norm. I can only hope that, in light of the epidemic, with the development in flexible working and WFH policies, women would feel more free to do both at a time that is convenient for them, rather than having to pick between a profession and a family.
In 2020, England and Wales’ fertility rate plummeted to 1.58 per woman, the lowest since records started in 1938. To begin with, I’m not surprised. With the threat of a pandemic, an oncoming recession, and a worldwide climate disaster, it’s understandable that establishing a family wasn’t on our radar.
But what irritates me about this data – and other fertility statistics – is that it uses all women as the sample size for calculating the percentage. After all, not all fertile women choose to have children, and not all women who wish to have children are physically capable of doing so. The statistics, on the other hand, makes no mention of the male effect on the number of infants born.
While I appreciate that statisticians must employ some kind of constant to gather data on overall fertility rates, it irritates me that they aren’t instantly cross-referenced with men’s behavior.
Why is it so often presumed that it’s women who are opting not to have children till later in life, instead of their potential male partners? Why is the fertility rate based on women who have or haven’t given birth, rather than men who have or haven’t become fathers? I imagine the ONS hasn’t attempted to persuade a twenty-something guy to commit to an exclusive relationship, much alone parenting..
Additional Information: Children
While the average age of a woman becoming a mother is now 31, the average age of a first-time father was already 33.1 years in 2014, according to the ONS. Despite the fact that home prices and the expense of living influence both parents, the average age of a father has been over 30 for at least eight years, there seems to be less fanfare and attention around that small tidbit.
Rather than merely the ages of their partners who brought their sperm to fruition, I’d want to see more statistics – and conversation – regarding the number of guys who take paternity leave, pay enough child support, and play an active role in raising children.
So, the next time a report on England and Wales’ so-called fertility rate is out, I’d want to hear more than a whisper regarding both parties’ – not just women’s – behavior patterns in conversations concerning first-time parenting.
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