During my first pregnancy, I envisioned a simple, joyful life with my child, filled with afternoons playing Poohsticks and enjoying homemade vegetable soup. I imagined my son happily exploring the park in hand-me-down clothes, and our life together would be both fulfilling and economical.

However, my sister, a seasoned parent, warned me that my finances were about to take a significant hit. Three decades and three more children later, her words have proven true. What she didn’t mention was that this financial drain is seemingly endless. Despite my children now being aged between 18 and 29, I’m still shouldering considerable expenses for them.

From covering their Spotify subscriptions and phone bills to paying for driving lessons and car insurance, the costs seem unrelenting. At 59, these expenses amount to about £1,000 every month, which suggests retirement will remain a distant dream, likely postponed until I’m around 85.

Three decades and three more children later, she’s been proved right. Yet what she didn’t explain was that the spending never ends. Even though my four are now aged between 18 and 29, I’m still forking out a fortune for them.

From Spotify subscriptions and phone bills – yes, I still pay them – to driving lessons plus car insurance, the costs just keep rolling in.

I am now 59 and they set me back about £1,000 a month, which means I’m unlikely to retire before the age of 85.

At a time in my life when I thought I’d never have to worry about the bill in a restaurant, I’m still counting the pennies. I feel mournful for the golden years that never materialised.

The three youngest still live with me, squashed into my two-bed house (the sitting room serves as an extra bedroom). We downsized from our five-bed home four years ago – I needed the cash more than I needed the space – and I naively thought I’d be an empty-nester in the not-so-distant future.

Even though Lucy Cavendish’s four children are now aged between 18 and 29, she’s still forking out a fortune for them (pictured L-R: Leonard, Raymond, Lucy and Ottoline)

I know I’m not alone. Anyone with grown-up children in this financial climate will find themselves frequently dipping into their pockets for them.

A survey this week revealed that 68 per cent of Gen Z were still living at home at the age of 23 – three times the figure for their older millennial counterparts at the same age.

You might imagine my children are all unemployed to need my continued financial assistance. That’s not the case.

Raymond, 29, works in IT support for the NHS, while Leonard, 22, is learning to be a crypto trader. Jerry, 21, is a gardener and Ottoline, 18, is training as a learning support assistant. None is earning big bucks – in fact, they barely scrape the minimum wage.

But I’m not exactly flush myself. As a therapist and freelance writer, I have to work all hours to keep us afloat. Having raised all four pretty much by myself after I split from the youngest three’s father 13 years ago, there wasn’t room to be prudent about my own future, so I don’t have a pension.

My generation of parents is stuck in a Catch-22 situation; we can either pay out for our children, or ask them to contribute more, knowing they’ll never be able to save enough to move out. While mine do contribute according to their meagre salaries, it’s not commensurate with the expense of having them at home, leaving me paying most of the bills.

Downsizing may have decreased the costs, but my three seem to make a concerted effort to drive them back up. Young adults seem to shower so much. There are constant battles about the washing machine and tumble dryer. I watch the smart meter zooming up in despair as I hang my own washing on the radiator.

I’m not angry with them but I am frustrated about the times we are living in.

As a therapist and freelance writer, Lucy has to work all hours to keep the family afloat financially

Back in 1996, when my eldest was born, it was the norm for children to fly off to flatshares the moment they turned 18. By 29, I had bought a house in Camden, North London, despite not earning a colossal amount, and prided myself on being financially independent. It seemed a totally alien idea to ask my parents for cash.

But today, what young person can get on the property ladder without parental help? My coffers are too bare for that.

Nearly ten years ago, I totted up the cost of raising them to the age of 18, assuming that would be the cut-off point.

The total was a cool £1million. The cost of feeding them alone was £15,600 a year.

Of course, I’m no longer buying dollies or paying subs for sports teams. But the payouts, although less frequent, are now considerably larger. I recently gave Raymond £500 to fix his car and Jerry £100 towards a holiday.

I’m saving up for my daughter’s driving lessons at £60 a pop. And while she is earning, I often cave and give her money so she can get her nails done or her hair cut. After all, it can’t be much fun living with your mum and brothers.

My children try their hardest not to ask me for money, and always desperately promise to pay me back – not that repayments tend to materialise. Given that most of my salary goes towards my children, I’m fortunate that I love my work. It keeps me feeling young, and I don’t think I was made to retire – but I’d like more choice in the matter.

I have decided the cut-off point to my generosity will be in four years, when my youngest turns 22. I think by then I can have a reasonable expectation that they should all be independent – though I’m probably kidding myself.

But I do look forward to the day when I live alone – and can spend every penny on myself.