For many women, marriage is quickly followed by a new kind of pressure: the expectation of pregnancy.
Questions come almost before the wedding rings have settled: “When will you have a baby?” “Are you pregnant yet?” Sometimes they are wrapped in jokes, sometimes in casual conversations, and sometimes in relentless reminders from family and friends.
In many cultures, but especially within African families and communities, this pressure can be overwhelming. It is almost expected that pregnancy will follow marriage immediately, as though one is incomplete without the other. A woman is rarely given the time to breathe, to settle into her marriage, or simply enjoy being newly married. The unspoken rule is that proof of marriage lies in proof of fertility. But not every woman wants that path, and that choice should be as valid as any other.
Yet the expectation reduces marriage to a timetable and womanhood to a womb. It places the responsibility squarely on women, even though conception involves both partners. And when pregnancy does not happen quickly, or does not happen by choice, the questions sharpen into whispers, pity, sometimes even blame. No woman should be made to feel less simply because she has chosen a different path.
The toll is immense. For those struggling with infertility, there is the weight of longing alongside the judgment of others. For those who choose not to have children, there is the burden of constantly defending that decision in a world that equates motherhood with worth. And for those who are simply waiting, there is the anxiety of being hurried along someone else’s timeline. Each woman’s story is different, and each deserves to be honoured without question.
The silence around these realities makes the weight heavier. Miscarriages, reproductive health conditions, and personal choices are rarely spoken of openly, so women carry their stories quietly while fending off relentless questions from those who claim to love them. Choosing not to have children should not require secrecy or apology.
We must ask ourselves: why is fertility treated as a race, a test to be passed immediately after marriage? Why is womanhood still reduced to whether or when a woman conceives? And why is a decision not to have children, one of the most personal decisions a woman can make, so often met with disbelief or judgment rather than acceptance?
No woman should be made to feel less than because she does not have a child on someone else’s timetable. No couple should have the joy of early marriage overshadowed by pressure and expectation. And no woman should be made to justify her decision not to have children.
The truth is simple: children are a blessing, not a measurement. And whether a woman conceives quickly, waits for her own time, or chooses another path altogether, her worth remains the same.
This intensely personal pressure isn’t felt in isolation. In our next post, we’ll explore how this same weight is carried by women across the globe.
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