Why I Regret Waiting to Start Having Children

This is not a post written in bitterness or regret toward my children—quite the opposite. They are the joy of my life, and I would not trade them for anything.

But if I could sit across the table from my younger self—or from a young woman standing at the beginning of adulthood—I would speak honestly about something our culture rarely allows women to say out loud:

I regret waiting as long as I did to start having children.

I’m an elder millennial who did what I was encouraged to do. I focused on college. I planned carefully. I waited until life felt “ready.” My first child was born when I was 28, my second at 34, and my third at 38.

And while I am deeply grateful for each one, I can also acknowledge that waiting came with real costs—costs I didn’t fully understand at the time.

The Lie That There Is Always Plenty of Time

When you’re in your early twenties, forty feels impossibly far away.

We are told—explicitly and implicitly—that fertility is flexible, that children can wait, and that delaying family-building is a neutral or even wise choice. Careers, degrees, and personal growth are treated as investments; motherhood is treated as something you can simply slot in later.

But biology doesn’t work on cultural timelines.

Time passes quietly. Then suddenly, it doesn’t feel so abundant anymore.

Harder Pregnancies as the Years Went On

Each pregnancy brought more joy—but also more difficulty.

My pregnancies became:

More physically taxing
Slower to recover from
Harder on my body overall

Energy didn’t bounce back the same way. Sleep deprivation hit harder. Healing took longer. What once felt manageable became something I had to consciously endure.

This isn’t something we talk about much, but age does matter when it comes to pregnancy and recovery.

Less Energy to Be the Kind of Mom I Want to Be

One of the quieter griefs I didn’t anticipate was energy.

I love my children deeply—but I feel the difference in my body now. I’m more tired. I need more rest. I have to pace myself in ways I didn’t at 28.

I still show up. I still play. I still delight in them.

But I’m more aware of my limits—and sometimes I wish I had more physical margin to give.

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

The Closing Window I Didn’t Fully Consider

Perhaps the hardest realization is this: I’m nearing forty.

If I had started earlier, there may have been more space—physically, emotionally, and practically—for more children. Instead, each year now carries more questions, more caution, and more awareness of limits.

That realization comes quietly, but it’s heavy.

I didn’t know how much I would love being a mother. I didn’t know how deeply it would reshape my priorities. And I didn’t realize how quickly the years would pass once I finally began.

What I Wish I Had Known Earlier

I wish someone had told me—kindly, honestly—that:

You don’t have to be “finished” to begin a family
Marriage and motherhood don’t erase your identity
Growth doesn’t stop when children arrive—it deepens
Waiting always has trade-offs, even when it feels safe

I wish I had been encouraged to see family-building not as a delay to life, but as life itself unfolding.

A Gentle Word to Young Women

This isn’t a command. It isn’t a rule. And it certainly isn’t meant to shame.

But if you are a young woman who desires marriage and children someday, I want to gently encourage you to consider this:

Don’t assume that later is always better.

If you find a good man, if marriage is possible, and if children are something you hope for—there is quiet wisdom in beginning earlier than the culture tells you to.

You don’t have to have everything figured out. Very few of us ever do.

Gratitude and Honesty Can Coexist

I am grateful beyond words for my children. I cherish this life deeply. And I still allow myself to be honest about the costs of waiting.

Both things can be true.

If my story helps even one woman think more carefully, plan more intentionally, or trust her instincts over cultural noise—then it’s worth sharing.

Motherhood is not something to fear postponing forever. It is something to step into, imperfectly, while time is still generous.

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