I’d been counting down for months. My vacation request was approved half a year ago, and I’d booked everything—flights, hotel, excursions. It was my time to recharge, and I needed it. But just a week before my break, Martha, a teammate and mother, asked me to swap dates. Her kids’ school break had shifted, and she wanted to travel with them. I explained my plans were locked in and non-refundable. That’s when her tone changed. “You don’t have kids,” she said. “It’s just you.” As if my time didn’t matter. I stayed calm but firm: “My vacation matters too.”
The next day, Martha was cold. She barely spoke, avoided eye contact, and made her displeasure known. I figured it would pass, but then our boss called me in. He’d “heard things” and implied I should’ve been more understanding. I was stunned. I’d followed every protocol, planned ahead, and now I was being guilted for not having children? I told him respectfully that my plans were set and I couldn’t cancel. He didn’t push further, but the damage was done. I left that meeting feeling like my personal life had been weighed and found wanting.
I started second-guessing myself. Was I selfish? Should I have sacrificed my break for someone else’s parenting needs? But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became: I wasn’t wrong. I didn’t owe anyone my time just because I’m child-free. Martha’s assumption that her needs automatically outweighed mine was unfair. And the boss’s subtle pressure only reinforced a toxic idea—that people without kids are somehow less deserving of rest. I’d respected her situation, but she hadn’t respected mine.
So I held my ground. I went on my vacation, guilt-free. I didn’t apologize for prioritizing my well-being. And I learned something powerful: boundaries matter, no matter your family status. Everyone deserves time to breathe, to escape, to live. Parenthood doesn’t grant moral superiority, and being child-free doesn’t make you expendable. I’m not giving up my vacation—and the “mom card” doesn’t work here.
