My husband and I are childless.

By upbringing and inclination, I do not parade personal emotions in public, and tend to get bored by people who do. But I want to send a message to my fellow Catholics who are blessed with children and may feel guilty about giving unequivocal support to Church teachings in an area that has not caused them any difficulty: Please relax.

Those of us who are without children are not without the love and support of the Church, do not believe that God's laws could or should be overturned, and are not without the means of access to grace for living our married lives with the joy that God intended for us.

Don't misunderstand me. There is a sadness about not having children. But the graces God showers on us in the sacrament of matrimony are real. And all that the Church has ever understood about love, fellowship with the saints, and God having a real and unique purpose for each one of us, is true.

The king and queen of the Belgians had to cope not just with childlessness, but with having it analyzed publicly as a national issue. In one radio broadcast, King Baudoin gently referred to it. I was touched by what he said: “Little by little, we came to know the meaning of this sorrow. … We came to understand that, not having children ourselves, we could come to love all children, truly all.”

God's sacrament of matrimony is to be lived with a sense of purpose. He delights in seeing us fulfilled. Gradually, we will see how this works in our own particular lives and marriage.

In ours, he's given us the joy of shared interests, projects that need our contribution — and blessings too numerous to list. And we have nephews and nieces, godchildren and so many young people. We have been given joy and are grateful.

Ah, but it's not the same as having your own, is it? Of course it isn't, and it isn't meant to be. But aunts and uncles have their place in the scheme of things, too.

Children are a gift. We cannot own each other — not spouses, not parents with children, not anyone. Parenthood demands sacrifice. There can be heartache involved. Those of us who have never known the joy of parenthood cannot know its tragedies, either. We are spared much. We need to remember parents in our prayers, and by offering practical help when useful.

And how many children do you have? None. It's sometimes awkward when people ask, because of course it's normal to assume that a couple has a family. I have learned how to answer with naturalness and to make the conversation ordinary.

For what it is worth, I value the prayers and thoughtful understanding of those who have gently intimated that they know we would have loved to have had children. Their quiet kindness means a great deal. But, when the whole subject of children, childlessness, parenthood, God and the transmission of life comes along, I do not, as it happens, suffer colossal anguish.

Because God is good, and because he loves us, he ensures that every individual, and every married couple, is given strength for the particular situation that faces them. (See Ephesians 4:1-6.)

In our life together, we have found that Christ has never — really, just never — let us down.

Joanna Bogle writes from London.