I’m doing really well at being at peace with not having children. But some days the darkness comes over me. Do you know what I mean?
Ordinarily, the darkness is a tiny ball. I carry it around with me wherever I go, and usually it’s safely tucked away and I don’t even notice it. Then something happens to flip the lid and suddenly the darkness has crept into every open space within me.
I’m tired of carrying the darkness around and I’m ready to let it go. I don’t want to feel bitter or sad about not having children, because honestly, I’m okay. But sometimes I can’t remember who I am any more. When I look in the mirror I don’t see me. I see a woman who looks tired and overweight, and very, very serious about life. She doesn’t laugh easily or live with abandon, like the real me used to. She’s cautious and unwilling to let herself go. She feels like a square peg in a world full of round holes and it’s lonely sometimes.
Our experiences make us who we are, but what happens to who we were? In a universe where energy remains constant, the old me — the laughing, carefree joyous me — must still be around. I catch glimpses of her sometimes, and like a huntress, I follow her into the woods. And yet, so often, she manages to evade me.
So, all I can do is be patient, keep an eye on her and keep moving towards her. I know she still exists, and one day, if I keep hunting her, I know I’ll catch up with her again. Then maybe we can stand together again and let the darkness go.
I too, have a darkness. I creeps up at some inopportune times and I have to stiffle it until I can escape and have a good cry.
For too long, over 5 years, I lived in limbo. Preparing my body like a future incubator meant twice-weekly visits to the Accupuncturist, dietary changes/restrictions, missed parties and life events, missed family vacations (we may be in the middle of a treatment, sorry) and the list goes on.
But lately, I’ve discovered a hedonist side of myself. If it feels good, I now have the freedom to do it. Want a glass of wine with dinner? Done. Want to try something a bit naughty in bed? Done!
I’m enjoying this new-normal, looking for the silver lining in all things. Some days are harder than others. But some are much more fun!
I know what you are talking about. I think a lot about the person I used to be before I knew I couldn’t have children. I was different. I loved being around children and they loved me. Then when I found out I was infertile, I could stand to be around children because it hurt too much. Now I can spend time with children, but I am not the fun loving auntie – I am very guarded. It was really apparent at my nieces 2nd birthday party because my husband videotaped me playing with her – I look so sad, and kept stepping away to let other people near her. I don’t like how I have changed. But then I think, it’s not possible to go through such a traumatic event and end up being the same person at the end. Anyone who experiences loss (no matter what the cause – death, terminal illness, infidelity) is different because of it. So I no longer try and go backward to be the person I used to be – I keep trying to move forward and whomever I become will be the new me. I do know that I’m beginning to like her.
One thing that helped a lot is I started taking meditation classes and the entire time I worked on releasing pain. On evening, I had the realization that I had no control over this aspect of my life. I only thought I did which caused me to keep reexamining the choices I made during my infertility treatment and eventual stopping of treatment. I imagined my infertility was an object inside me and with every breath I pushed it out of me through my heart. It was a huge boulder, bigger than me. Then I imagined it was a beach ball and I kicked into outer space and with every breath I sent if further away from me so that it was far beyond our galaxy it was lost in the stars and milky way. I felt so good after that session, I wanted to skip out of the building and that feeling stayed with me for a long time. Now, when I start to feel bad, I imagine my feeling is in that beach ball and I kick it back to outer space. I offer this exercise to your readers in the hope that it helps them too.
I used to work at a portrait studio, and while there was sometimes a lot of stress (mostly due to time constraints), I loved it, and what I loved was playing with and posing the kids. If I could get a child to relax and be themselves, it always meant great pictures, which made the parents happy (and my boss, too, I won’t lie).
I don’t think I could do that job now. I sort of feel like I don’t deserve to be around children.
I am never going to be the old me. It is impossible not to be changed by this experience. But, I am working on creating a new me who is able to smile, laugh and enjoy this life. The person who eats popcorn for dinner without guilt, naps when she wants to, and can afford to buy a small cabin in the woods in the future. The moments of darkness – they would have been there anyways but caused by guilt over not being a good enough parent, exhaustion, or something else.
dear Lisa,
beautiful post! I could have written it myself (=if I had your talent to write and if I were a native speaker).
Every word in your post describes how I feel today.
Hugs!
Wow!!! Today’s post is exactly what I was thinking as I refused yet another baby shower invitation this past weekend. I was thinking how I just feel like a square peg in this world lately. I, too, feel very guarded when I am around certain people now – especially my in-laws and some of our friends. I feel like I am being judged for not having children and I never used to feel that way at all. I miss that carefree side of me who didn’t even think about these things. I look at myself differently now – as a woman who is pitied or misunderstood and it makes me sad because that is not how I truly feel, but I feel like others see me that way. So I avoid certain situations that bring those feelings to the forefront and it becomes a vicious cycle because then I end up feeling isolated and left out.
J – I have felt exactly the same way. Guarded now. I miss the carefree person who never thought about these things. I hate being pitied, I avoid situations, I feel isolated and left out. Wish we could be friends in real life.
Maria,
I know – me too. I lack people in my life who understand this feeling. That’s why this site helps so much to hear from people who have similar feelings. Send me a message if you want to talk.
J- I feel exactly the same way! And baby shower invites are the worst. I don’t mean to offend people, but I always decline.
I am looking forward to the day that I have a inner circle of childless girlfriends that ‘get’ where I’m coming from. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Sending hugs.
I still have my moments as well, but there are much less than 3 years ago. I am coming up on our 3rd anniversary of our second miscarriage, but I feel in a much better place now. I have truly accepted my fate. I guess because I am older (going to be 46 in May) and the fact that I am not surrounded by younger female friends with baby shower invitations, facebook pregnancy announcements or pregnant co-workers either. I am luckily to be spared this that others write about. I am also fine being around children (as I work in a school environment). But, I still feel the loneiness at times of not having someone close to share my feelings with in my “real” life. I now focus on what I do have in my life that is positive – the ability to go and do as I please, take spontaneous vacations, sleep in and so on. Everyone’s road/path is different and for some it takes longer to find out that being childless is doable and you can live a very happy and fulfilled life. Hugs to all!
I’ve never read anything that sums up so perfectly how I feel. I’ve tried explaining to people that I don’t feel like the real me anymore but they can’t see it like I feel it. I really hope we find ourselves again. I feel sure they’re waiting for us.