How I Created a Workbook for Women Who Don't Know If They Want to Be Mothers (And Why That Matters)
- Sophie van het Erve
- Feb 4
- 6 min read
I like to create plans. Or better said, I like knowing what I'm working toward. The road to get there doesn't matter thát much to me.
Well, of course it matters. The journey is the point, as they say. But I've learned over the years that my plans never really go according to plan. Things unfold differently than I imagine. The path twists. Opportunities I didn't expect show up, and ones I counted on don't materialize.
And yet somehow, I still end up where I meant to go. Just not how I thought I'd get there.
Except with this one thing: Motherhood.
For years, I had this vague sense that becoming a mother would happen eventually. It was out there in my future somewhere. Not mapped out exactly, but assumed. Like it was just waiting in the wings, ready to make its entrance when the time was right.
But the "right time" never seemed to arrive. Neither did a partner to take this path with. And at some point in my thirties, I realized I'd been waiting for something that might never come on its own. I couldn't just let it unfold and trust I'd end up where I needed to be.
This decision required something different: actually figuring out what I wanted.
The Conversation No One's Really Having
Here's what I started noticing: I wasn't alone in this.
Conversations with friends would drift into this territory. Often after a few glasses of wine, when the guards came down. Successful, thoughtful women would admit, almost shamefully: "I still don't know if I want kids."
And then they'd rush to explain it away. "I know I need to figure it out soon." "I'm probably just overthinking it." "Everyone else seems to know what they want." "I know it sounds selfish, but I like my life as it is."
I wasn't just one or two friends. Women who'd built impressive careers, traveled the world, made intentional choices about their lives... stuck on this one question.
And we were all treating our uncertainty like a personal failing instead of what it actually was: a reasonable response to a genuinely complicated decision.
Because let's be honest: the choice is more complicated now than it's ever been.
Our mothers' generation (for the most part) didn't wrestle with this the same way. The path was clearer. You got married, you had kids. That's what you did.
But we're living in a different reality. We can support ourselves financially. We don't need marriage to have children, and we don't need children to have meaningful lives. We've built careers that matter to us. We've created identities beyond "future mother."
That freedom is incredible. It's also genuinely hard to navigate.
My Own Path to Clarity
I don't want to retell my entire story here (it's in the workbook if you're curious), but the short version: I started an adoption application thinking I was just "getting prepared" for some distant future.
What surprised me was how the process itself—specifically, being asked question after question about my life, my values, my capacity for nurturing, my vision—actually created clarity I didn't have before.
The act of reflection itself created the clarity. Of being forced to articulate things I'd never put into words.
I realized: I'm ready now. Not someday. Now.
And once I had that clarity, once I could actually name what I wanted, everything shifted. I stopped living in limbo. I made different choices. I adjusted my priorities. I found community I didn't know existed.
The clarity didn't eliminate my fear or my doubts. It did give me direction.
What Gets Lost in the Current Conversation
After my own experience, I paid closer attention to how we talk about this decision culturally.
And I noticed a few things:
Most of the conversation still operates from an assumption that motherhood is the default and you need a good reason not to do it. The question isn't really "Do you want to be a mother?" It's "Why wouldn't you want to be a mother?"
Even the more progressive takes (the ones that acknowledge child-free life as valid) often frame it as the alternative. The other option. The thing you choose when motherhood doesn't work out.
But this framing misses something quite important: For many women (myself included) both paths are genuinely possible. Both feel valid. The question isn't which one is acceptable. The question is which one is actually theirs.
And uncertainty about that? It doesn't get much space in the conversation. We're expected to just... know. And if we don't know, we're supposed to figure it out quickly because biology doesn't wait.
But what if the uncertainty itself is important? What if sitting with "I don't know yet" is exactly the work that needs to happen?
Why I Created This Workbook
After finding my own clarity and watching so many women struggle with this same question, I started thinking: What would actually help?
Not another opinion piece about whether women should have kids. Not another mom blog or child-free manifesto. Not another person telling women what they should want. (I see the value in all of these - but these are just not the channels through which I could help).
I like to help women hear themselves. To trust their own voice. That's where The Motherhood Question came from.
I wanted to share what had been so helpful for me—something that treated both motherhood and child-free life as equally legitimate paths. Something that honored complexity instead of oversimplifying it. Something that asked the hard questions without prescribing the answers.
Basically, I wanted to bottle that experience I'd had myself: the clarity that comes from being asked the right questions at the right depth.
So I sat down and started writing questions. A lot of them.
Questions about the past—what you learned from your parents about family and parenthood. Questions about the present—who you are now, what you value, what brings you joy. Questions about both possible futures—what you'd savor about motherhood, what you'd grieve if you didn't have children, what a child-free life could offer, what you'd lose if you became a mother.
Questions about fears, practical realities, body wisdom, partnership dynamics, single motherhood, the quiet voice underneath all the noise.
I organized them into sections that build on each other. I added context where it mattered. I included pauses for reflection and synthesis.
And I tried to make the whole thing feel like a conversation with a thoughtful friend, not a clinical assessment or a self-help guru telling you what to do.
Why This Work Matters
Women deserve to make this choice with clarity, not confusion.
Not rushed because of timelines. Not pressured by family or society. Not defaulting because it's easier than deciding.
But actually choosing—based on who they are, what they value, what they genuinely want for their lives.
That takes reflection. It takes honest exploration of both paths. It takes sitting with uncomfortable questions and unpopular truths.
And it takes time.
We've created a world where women have more choices than ever about how to live. But we haven't created the cultural infrastructure to support them in navigating those choices thoughtfully.
Because I genuinely believe life can be extraordinary either way. With children or without. In partnership or solo. Following the conventional path or creating your own.
But you have to know which path is yours. Not your mother's. Not society's. Not your partner's. Yours.
And once you know? Once you have that clarity and can commit fully?
That's when real joy becomes possible.
If You're Carrying This Question
Maybe you picked up this article because you're in it right now—uncertain, stuck, carrying this weight of not knowing. If that's you, I want you to know: You're not indecisive. You're not broken. You're not running out of time to "figure it out."
You're taking one of life's most significant decisions seriously. You're refusing to choose by default. You're honoring the complexity instead of pretending it's simple.
That's not weakness. That's wisdom.
And you don't have to do this work alone.
Whether it's through this workbook, therapy, coaching, conversations with trusted people, or your own reflective practice - give yourself the space to explore this deeply.
You deserve clarity. And clarity is possible.
That's what I want for every woman facing this question.
The Motherhood Question is available now. If you want to talk about what this brought up for you, drop a comment or send me a message. This matters.


