By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Meltdowns are no fun, and they’re especially painful when they happen in public.
Recently I attended a friend’s daughter’s first dance recital. It was beautiful, it was funny, it was entertaining. Nothing cracks me up quite like a row of four-year-olds in pink tutus doing their best to tap on a beat.
Except this time I wasn’t laughing. Every tiny dancer made me long for the one I could have had, should have had. I sat in the semi-darkened theater, surrounded by parents, grandparents, siblings, and every form of video camera and cried. Big tears rolled down my cheeks, my nose ran like a fire hose, and when the lights came up, I doubt anyone thought my swollen face was due to seasonal allergies.
I took my first dance class when I was five and tapped, kicked, twirled, and leapt my way through childhood. I loved the magic, the music, the costumes, and even the discipline. I looked forward to one day watching my own daughter glide across a stage, and as I watched my young friend steal the show, I thought about how sad I was to to miss sharing these experiences with a mini-me.
’Tis the season of holiday performances: children’s choirs, reenactments of the nativity (I love Lisa’s description of the drive-through nativity she discovered a few years ago), pageants, caroling, The Nutcracker. I loved them all when I had parts in them, and I still love them. It’s just a little bit harder these days to keep my emotions to myself when I’m in the midst of the family fun.
So, if you notice a gal sniffling in row 12 during the curtain call, kindly pass her a tissue.
The holiday festivities can bring up all sorts of painful emotions when you’re childfree-not-by-choice. If you could use some inspiration and encouragement to get you through the tough times, check out the Life Without Baby Holiday Companion available here and on Amazon.
My sister’s daughter looks just like me and I used to go to her choir recitals and school plays and just loved being there for her. She was so much like me when I was young, and we were so close when she was little, I wonder if she felt bonded to me because of it. Now that she is an adult, she is very close with her own mother and she either no longer wants to be with me or feels connected to me. I used to feel like she was my daughter but ever since I started noticing that she no longer felt the same way, it made me even more painfully aware of my childlessness. Sometimes I think it’s worse to have had something close to your own child, and then have it taken away. But I feel your pain Guthrie Woods. Here’s a virtual tissue for us both.
oh this happens to me ALL THE TIME you would think I would carry tissues
It is so nice to know that I am not alone. I cry often when just thinking about my niece…and I am embarrassed to even let anyone know that I do such a thing. Scares me sometimes when I think about how disappointed and depressed I am that I will never be a mom.