By Paula Coston
I’m 59 now, and over those close-on six decades I have mapped out in my mind an entire web of paths untaken. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve. And for that reason, Chapter 7 of Jody Day’s book Rocking the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Life without Children chimes with me. (Jody is the founder of Gateway Women, a British-based website for women childless by circumstance.)
The chapter’s first two sections are headed “The shadow of the life unlived” and “The dark side of daydreams.” She shares her own experience with searing frankness:
“For many years I’d been living two lives: one in which I was hoping for a baby and making the best of things till then, the other in which I had succeeded and had become a mother….
“At no point in that time… did I fully and completely embrace the life I was actually living—that of a childless woman….
“I think of the ‘shadow life’ as the life you dreamt about while your ‘real’ life was happening and … which … depleted the life you were actually living.”
We all have our path forks. A few of mine happened when:
– Somewhere in my childhood, I believed my family was encouraging me in the single, career-driven life, not a life of love and family.
– Over the years a couple of men proposed to me, both in fun. Friends laughed too, hearing about it.
– It became clear to me that one special lover had serious issues about parenthood, so when the option came up for us, I knew I had to forgo it.
– Neighbors and colleagues at work became grandmothers, and, like a photograph gradually developing, I soon saw that I never would.
Slowly, I’m coming to terms with these losses. These days, what fascinates me more is the way we persist in tracing and re-tracing these ghosts of roads untaken.
I wonder whether, once we surmount the pain, their rehearsal can bring us comfort. Why not trust that we’re living our shadow lives somewhere else close by, if it helps? Maybe the psyche is instinctively drawn to the idea of alternative realities. And if you’re a writer—like me—well, it’s unavoidable.
In 1964, a TV soap, Another World, started on NBC, set in the fictional town of Bay City. It was so popular that it ran till 1999! The co-creator Irna Phillips explained the idea behind it: “We do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand other worlds.” Bay City and its happenings represented to her the difference between “the world of events we live in, and the world of feelings and dreams that we strive for.”
Over the last four years, my best therapy has been to struggle with, and beat, writing a novel. It just came out on June 27, entitled On the Far Side, There’s a Boy. It tells the tale of a woman who doesn’t know that she even contemplates having children until she begins to dream—of one particular boy in Sri Lanka, whom she has known only through letters, so only half-known—and to see that he is what she wanted: even, what she may still want. It’s a kind of fantasy experience, parallel to her real life.
Aptly, her story echoes much that has happened to me. So these days, I’m learning to live with my shadow lives, to let them be and wend their ways, sometimes even to enjoy them.
I think I’ll term myself an AMo. Meaning “I love” in Latin, it also suggests that I’m a kind of Alternative Mother, somehow living both lives, the one I have and the one I didn’t, in harmony.
Paula Coston’s On the Far Side, There’s a Boy is available in paperback and e-book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/paulacoston
Maria says
I agree with what you write. I have often thought of that old saying, life happens when you are making other plans. I try very hard to be present in my actual life but it is a constant struggle. Today, I was in Court (I am a lawyer) representing a client on a drug charge. A young woman with a baby strapped to her came up to me and I saw she was high on heroin. She asked if she could ask me a question and I said no, and walked away to make a phone call. She sat down and nodded out while I watched this happy, healthy baby strapped to her, struggling to reach his food and feed himself. While I talked on my phone, I watched her and I wondered why the universe would put us together to force the question, why her, not me, etc. I didn’t even pause to think about the question this time because I know the answer is there is no answer and I no longer want to waste anymore time with that thought.
Paula Coston says
What an interesting story, Maria. Our path forks are so close to each other, aren’t they? Thanks so much for sharing and commenting.
Sherry says
I’m glad to read about the ‘shadow life’ because I too struggle with it everyday. I limit myself on Facebook because I see all the family pictures and I imagine posting my family’s pictures. But I don’t post pictures because I don’t want people to see my childless life. I don’t think anyone would be interested, or they would just think pictures without children, or grandchildren deserve pity. I hope and pray that some day soon I can really live, and enjoy my actual life.
I also agree with Maria. I work for the Department of Human Services so I know all too well the stories of abused and neglected children. Some women, no matter their lifestyle have no problem reproducing. I know there is no answer but it makes me angry at the universe.
Paula Coston says
Dear Sherry
Thanks so much for your take on this. Anger is so hard to control, or to channel in more useful ways. I’m about to be on a radio programme here in the UK, and I talked to the interviewer about how hard it is for childless women to find equivalent images to motherhood that they can own and feel good about. You can’t paint, or photograph, the absence of something, can you? Except some women do try. Frida Kahlo, who had several miscarriages, has some disturbing, but true, paintings e.g. of a woman surrounded in a hospital bed by images of miscarriage. But I love the more positive, even funny, treatment of Suzanne Heintz. She does installations and photographs them. In them, she is pretending to be the cheery, glamorous, stereotypical wife and mother, surrounded by mannequins – yes, mannequins! of a ‘perfect’ partner/husband and children! They’re just great. If you want to make yourself grin, take a look!
Lin says
Paula,
I really enjoyed those photos and reading about the manequin-project, but it makes me sad too because all the years I was single, I didn’t fulfill myself and still haven’t been able to since I met my partner six years ago.
If I could have bought a family I probably would have.
Paula Coston says
It’s never too late, Lin. I really believe that. I’ve just started looking into mentoring young people. You don’t even need lots of qualifications to do it: just common sense, and some wisdom and life experience. I have an application form on my desk beside me right now that I’m sending off tomorrow, and a couple of other enquiries out there! Another thing I’ve done, which I really found fulfilling, was being a ‘guardian’ to young students studying abroad in a school or at college for a term or two from their home countries. In the vacations, they need somewhere to go. There are agencies that place them – certainly in the UK. I try as hard as I can to think laterally, and find ways of getting some sense that I’m being useful. I realise that this may not help you or appeal to you, but maybe it’ll set you thinking of something? I do hope so. Life is too short to stay sad too much of the time, even though we grieve sometimes.
Silk says
Thank you for at least giving the suggestion of Ms. Day’s book to read. There are not enough books published for women who chose not to be childless
Paula Coston says
Not at all, Silk! I found some chapters really helped me (as with all these things, you find the parts that resonate). I do hope it helps you too. And have you tried my novel?
Warm regards.