Naomi Holbrook standing in front of autumnal trees holding a coffee
I didn’t want to put a child through the same pain I experienced (Picture: Naomi Holbrook)

‘It’s such a waste… You’d make an amazing mum… You’d be so good with a baby…’   

I’ve had these words repeated to me constantly over the past 15 years, ever since I ended a long-term relationship at 34 and therefore it became less likely that I would ‘settle down’ and have children.

I’m not sure my friends realised just how painful their comments were. A reminder of the immense grief and personal loss I suffered when my own mum passed away when I was just 19. Comments that made me question my decision not to have children again and again.   

Unconsciously, I think those feelings were always there. It was only when I started on my own self-development journey in my mid 40s that it finally became a clear, conscious choice. 

Growing up, I was extremely close to my mum. She was, in my eyes, perfect. A strong yet soft female role model who juggled her vocation in life with raising me and my sister.   

Initially a hospital theatre sister at Bristol Royal Infirmary, she went into general nursing after becoming a mum. When she was working late shifts, we always came home from school to handwritten notes and freshly baked treats.

She was a born caregiver, a real-life Florence Nightingale. She also had a wicked sense of humour that I only came to appreciate as an adult myself, and was loved by everyone whose path she crossed.

Then, when I was 12, she became critically ill. For seven years, I watched as she battled the debilitating and chronic illness Myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME) until medical complications finally led her to complete organ failure and her subsequent death. She was just 52. 

Naomi Holbrook at home, smiling at the camera
I became a people pleaser who could never say no (Picture: Naomi Holbrook)

It was hugely traumatic, but the late 80s and early 90s was not a time to express yourself or your feelings, let alone talk about your mental health. Instead, you were simply encouraged to ‘be brave’ and ‘move on’.

Teenage years are not an easy time for anyone but experiencing the loss of a parent brings additional layers to the journey of discovering who you are and this led me to struggling with a lack of self-esteem and deep feelings of rejection. 

I started using processed ‘comfort’ food and alcohol to soothe my emotions and make me feel better – but that comfort was always short-lived and ended with deeper feelings of self-loathing and low self-worth.

Subsequently I was always eager to obtain external validation anywhere I could; my career, from friendships, family members and in my intimate relationships too. 

Naomi Holbrook standing outside on a cobbled street lined with trees/flowers, laughing/smiling.
I never felt broody or tempted when friends and colleagues had children (Picture: Naomi Holbrook)

I spent so many years fearing the loss of the people I loved that I became a people pleaser who could never say no, even when I desperately wanted to.

I battled regular panic attacks and deep anxiety which was being fuelled by my lifestyle choices, especially around food and alcohol – but I had no boundaries with myself, friends, family members or boyfriends. So, even when I was offered things I didn’t want (a second helping, dessert, another glass of wine) I would accept it anyway.

I was always eager to please in my career and would never say no to unrealistic deadlines, working excessive hours or on projects that didn’t feel aligned to my values.

The subject of having children did come up in relationships in my 20s and 30s, more often than not by their family members more than from my boyfriends themselves. But I would laugh it off, say I was too busy with my career and quickly turn to another subject.

Naomi Holbrook taking a selfie at home
I had spent three decades in survival mode (Picture: Naomi Holbrook)

I never felt broody or tempted when friends and colleagues had children, it just didn’t feel like it was a part of my path.

In my late 30s, I experienced all the cliché comments from friends, colleagues and some family members. 

‘Time is running out… Don’t leave it too late… Who’s going to look after you when you’re old?’ I heard them all. 

These questions made me stop and ask myself if I would one day regret my decision to not have children. But I kept coming to the same conclusion. I didn’t want to put a child through the same pain I experienced.  

So I shrugged the comments off, or changed the subject as quickly as possible. But for years it brought up feelings of inadequacy, embarrassment and even shame.  

Naomi Holbrook standing in front of a wooden wall
On the 30th year of Mum’s death, my grief and trauma have finally healed (Picture: Naomi Holbrook)

It wasn’t until 2019, 25 years after her death, that I appreciated the full extent of the impact of the loss of my mum.

In 2014 I had already made positive changes to my lifestyle. I’d reduced my alcohol consumption significantly, was eating healthier and looking after myself. 

Gradually, over a few years, I became aware I had been living in survival mode for decades – self-medicating and never acknowledging, accepting or tackling the trauma of my Mum’s death.

After nearly three decades of burying my emotions, I finally made the decision to see a psychotherapist to unravel the years of trauma and better understand the behaviours I had repeated and carried through my adult life.

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I realised that I had been desperate to be in a relationship, looking for love and validation, when I now know that I was the only person who could create that for myself. I had also repeated patterns of behaviour with food and alcohol where, instead of feeling my emotions, I soothed them to make the pain go away imminently.

As a mentor and coach myself, I now know and understand that I would have passed these behaviours onto my own child or children, albeit totally unconsciously.   

I had spent three decades in survival mode. Looking back now, the stark truth is, I honestly don’t believe I would, or could, have made a great mother, holding so much of my own pain and trauma until well into my adulthood.  

But now, I am grateful to say that on the 30th year of Mum’s death, my grief and trauma have finally healed. 

I have made peace with the loss I went through, and peace in the knowledge that my own decision to not have children was absolutely the right one for me.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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