Jayne Dowle: From here to maternity, how women moved on

It is the lowest number since just after the First World War, when a simple shortage of men put paid to the hopes of many would-be mothers. Even in my ambitious 20s, I always had a strong maternal desire, and ended up having two children just before I hit 40. But what of the women, like my university friends, who made a conscious choice not to have babies at all?

One of them is now a respected academic, living on a remote Scottish island and undertaking research into something complex to do with the environment. Another is a high-flying lawyer who speaks French like a native. Then there's the girl who sailed round the world. And the one who built up a scarily impressive career in the City before leaving to set up her own business.

With children, their experiences would have been so different, and the impact they have made on their professions just wouldn't have been possible.

I'm fascinated by how our lives have diverged. So I'm not one of those smug mothers who thinks that the lives of my old friends can't possibly be complete because they haven't given birth. And believe me, the world is full of that kind of mother. But then I grew up with two aunties who never had children. They were different from each other in almost every way, but the one thing I remember about both of them is the sheer amount of time they had to spend with us. Sewing, putting on plays, going on day-trips, just listening and indulging in a way that a mother never can.

I learnt early on that some women are put on earth not to have their own children, but to bring joy and laughter to other people's. We shouldn't assume that being childless is always a choice though. When I told this to a forty-something friend of mine, who has struggled to conceive for years, she cried.

It is true, sometimes it is difficult to find common ground with friends who don't have the traumas of school and nits and food fussiness to talk about. However different a group of women might be, if they have children there is always a bond that joins them. I only have to look at the mothers I know through football. Sometimes I marvel at our totally random backgrounds; dinner lady, nurse, legal exec, animal charity campaigner. When it comes down to it though, we are all experts on eight-year-old boys, and we never run out of things to talk about, standing in the rain on a Sunday morning. And also, I know that women who don't have children are increasingly proving themselves elsewhere. Young women now

officially earn more than their male counterparts. A woman in her 20s, working full-time, will typically earn more than a man of the same age. None of us, bosses and colleagues, can afford to ignore this.

Ambitious young women today are scarier than we ever were; with Margaret Thatcher and countless female pop millionaires as role models, brought up to believe that they can do anything they set their mind to, trouncing the boys at school, and with the ability to walk in heels and add up a balance sheet at the same time, I certainly wouldn't stand in their way. And neither should anyone else. Their impact will change the relationships of men and women at work for ever. At the moment, their earning potential is still likely to drop if they hit their 30s and decide to start a family. But if the trend for women to remain childless continues, who knows what will happen in the next few years? What I do know is that intriguing though all this research is, it will only divide women further into the haves and the have-nots – those who have children, and those who for one reason or another, don't.

And I think this is wrong. I realise I am generalising, but women can be their own worst enemies. Whether it's insecurity, jealousy, or a combination of both, they can't help but make other women feel inadequate.

In the workplace, in the wine bar, at any gathering, you will see the subtle battle lines being drawn, and children are always in the middle. I don't think this is what our mothers and grandmothers burnt their bras for. And I don't want my daughter – or yours – to grow up in a world like that. You can't measure progress only by the size of your salary, or the number of your offspring.

You should measure it also by respect and understanding. Otherwise, it's just statistics. And compelling as they are, they only tell half the story.

The real story, which raises all kinds of questions about ambition, expectation and achievement, is much more interesting.