By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s impossible to put on mascara when you can’t stop crying.
I learned this little truism the day after we put our sweet 14-year-old dog to sleep. I’d spent the day intermittently sobbing and whimpering—set off by her empty bowl, her favorite spot in my office, now vacant, and tiny reminders of my everyday companion. I had pushed off most work-related tasks, but still had to pull myself together for an evening event I needed to attend. With a lot of deep breathing, as well as promises to myself that I could continue crying my eyes out later, I managed to make myself presentable.
I’m not new to devastating losses. Almost daily, I still think of the best friend who died tragically when she was just 20, my beloved grandmother and “hot date” for movies who passed in 1993, and my father-in-law who left us before he could be an honored guest at our wedding. But the outpouring of emotions I experienced after losing Scout was a new breed of grief. Guilt, gratitude, longing, regret, relief, loneliness, heartache. At times it consumed me, as, I think, it should. And that got me thinking….
As a woman who is childfree by circumstances, I have never fully grieved the loss of my dream of motherhood. For 25 years or so, I’ve been in this crazy dance between longing and hoping, praying and wishing, denial, regret, jealousy, despair, having faith and losing faith. I used to beg God for a neon sign—seriously—a message so clear that said either “You will have children, so stick it out!” or “You aren’t going to have children. Get on with your life!” And the years went by. And the years went by. And here I am. I am childfree by circumstance (don’t you dare accuse me of making a “choice”), and I describe myself as “mostly at peace” with my status. But there are days when I still think “What if….”
I won’t trivialize the pain of our sisters who are childfree by infertility. I’ve held too many friends and sobbed with them over miscarriages, failed IVF treatments, and the loss of their dreams, and I know too well that their paths are filled with heartbreak. But because LWB is a place where we can safely share our deepest hurts, please allow me to say that there are times when I’ve envied their ability to grieve. My friends had defining moments when they could let it all out, when they could ask for support, when support was offered even when it was not asked for. Think of my journey like the quiet drip-drip of a faucet; it’s imperceptible, so no one calls in the plumber, but over time it causes the same amount of catastrophic damage as a flood. I have never had a moment of finality, never experienced that intense period of grief, and on some very deep and possibly damaged level, I wish I could.
Selfish? Perhaps. But hear me out. I know that grieving is necessary. The sobbing period winds down, you put your experiences into perspective, and then you move on. For I so would like to be able to move on. I want to embrace this path I’ve been given and find new purpose in my life. I’d like to feel that the wanderings of my childbearing years were not just wasted time. And I fear that, if I skip past the crucial grieving phase, I’ll never get to the phase of accepting and, ultimately, to that day when I can feel content with my circumstances.
I dont think you ever get to the point of acceptance. At first you grieve for a child you never had, then its grandchildren, then its the loss of having close Family to help.
Just as parents will always have problems with children no matter what the age, so we will always have problems with our circumstances no matter what our stage.
That is why God has said he will carry you Through your circumstances because life has its ups and downs, as we sit alone together surrounded by families on Holidays. Do we feel bad? Yes yet that is when we rely the most on God to help us through because we will always ask Why.
Love you post! Thanks!!
I agree, I don’t think you ever get over not being able to have a family even @ this age of 55. The other day, I was thinking I actually think about not having my own family everyday…I’m reminded by tv, social media,etc- can’t get away from it! It’s hard since my husband has 2 kids from a previous marriage along with 3 grandkids so it’s a constant reminder and it “aches” my heart along with jealousy. He doesn’t understand my feelings…it sure would have been easier for me if we could have experienced this loss together and not me alone. I agree with Nita about continually asking God “why” and praying to God to help me and help me deal with this “jealousy” …it is an everyday struggle!
I was so relieved to finally hit menopause…. The hoping could finally end…..
My husband has grown kids and grandchildren too. I agree about constant reminders…. everywhere.
Wow, Linda…finally somebody who has a similar situation as me! I feel like I’m the only one around here! Thanks
Oh no… You aren’t the only one. My husband also has a grown son. Thank goodness his wife left him before they had a baby…. I was so not ready for a grandchild in the mix!!
Wow! Is it a relief to see these posts in particular! My husband has 2 grown daughters so I can totally relate. We’ve been trying for over a year and our diagnosis is “unexplained infertility” which in my mind translates into “you waited too long and now you’re too old”. (I’m 40, he’s 57) And yet every month I hope. And then I cry. And although he tries to be so supportive I know he just doesn’t understand the emptiness I feel and that if I were to give up on this quest right now he would likely be relieved.
It is a double whammy with the grandkids! Not easy… It might be a little easier if they were living out of state but they live a little to close for me and my husband is close to them which is how it should be but… I just wish it was “our” family!!!
I agree about the reminders. My partner has two young children. There are days I feel like I still get to experience some of the negatives of parenting without ever getting to know anything positive and feeling nothing but loss.
The drip drip, yes. I didn’t have fertility treatment and here I am. I had to have a full hysterectomy a couple of years ago so there was some finality. We also lost our 12 year old dog recently so this article resonates on so many levels.
I agree with all of the comments. I have never been able to put it to rest at 59. It still breaks my heart everyday, and pray that some day I will find some peace with it.
I understand exactly what you mean. I’m 42 with no children by “circumstance” too – I was terribly abused by my own Mother as a child, which took years and year to heal from. I survived a suicide attempt at 21, then by boyfriend at the time died in a car crash the following year. I have been in therapy for over 20 years (it sound ridiculous that length of time, I know…but it wasn’t every week – sometimes months in between). My point is, I finally found the right man for me at 37, but was still tentative about having children (could I handle it, would it *trigger* things for me?) – so I didn’t really try to have kids – my own mother threw me out of the house as soon as I turned 18 (as she did with my 3 brothers). So I have had no contact with her for 21 years. No calls from her, no letters – nothing – which didn’t surprise me but at the same time it leaves a scar, and a huge hole in your heart. Then just 3 weeks ago I got a call that she was very sick – how sick? No one knew (she didn’t call me of course – I learned through another family member) and just 3 days later she died. No note, nothing. Just like that. And now, at 42…when I feel I’d “like” to have my own child…that perhaps I’m ready…I’m too late. And my husband too has a child of his own from a previous marriage…so I totally understand about the constant reminder of what “could have been.” To say it pains me is an understatement. Sometimes I feel like I can’t go on…what’s the point? Of course I will…I have no other choice. But the weight is unbearable, and I feel so alone. At least your site gives me comfort to know others get it – and that I’m not alone – I just wish I knew some women in real life.
I totally understand your feelings, Delphi. My father was an abusive alcoholic and I also had an emotionally neglectful mother. It too took me years of therapy to try and undo the damage, and even though I was still in my 30s when we tried to conceive, it obviously did not work out for us. And what pains me the most is that now I know I would have been a much better mother than mine was, and I too, feel like sometimes I can’t go on. It is at many times, just bone crushing.
I’m sorry Sherry to read your story…thank you for sharing it and I suppose it’s at least somewhat comforting to know someone else out there *gets it* – but, it doesn’t do much to help with the feeling of loss…does it? It’s like we just go on…holding this big secret and endless abyss in our hearts while we see others who have been blessed with happy childhoods and later on happy families. I feel like I view them through a long telescope…almost like an alien race because I just cannot possibly comprehend what it must be like to have been given those things in life. I feel thrust into a world of anonymity…as if I go through my days working like some faceless automaton with no link to anything of substance in the world. Sure, I have a good job and I worked my a** off to get where I am today without any leg-up from anyone, but so what? What’s it all for? To have been raised essentially an orphan and then to die with no offspring…it feels like you’re not really connected – know what I mean? It’s hard to describe, this feeling of emptiness…but like I said earlier…you just go on and bear up – what else can you do?
I don’t want to sound totally ungrateful though…I know plenty of others in this world have lived lives of absolute horror and nightmares…I know that. And I am grateful I live in a country where I’m not oppressed or living in utter poverty or with some horrible disease…but it’s still hard to fill the void. I’m grateful for a loving husband however, but on this day, Father’s day, it just highlights once again, the difference between us.
The feeling of not really being connected – that is something I am only just starting to identify as something that is a real issue for me. Thank you for verbalising it 🙂
Can I ask if you have considered adoption? Or is it also the biological connection that is part of the equation? I ask because I’ve struggled with these issues myself.
Hi Sharon – sure! I have thought of it in the back of my mind…but not really deeply and I haven’t at all discussed that possibility. It is something that I have thought about though…and I might consider it – but the biological connection I feel would be nice to have.
Sharon,
May I ask if you have persued adoption yourself? Why would you even ask a question.
My husband and I have persued adoption and lost 7 adoptions. it is not as easy as what the
general public think it is to do.
We tried different forms of adoption. My question to you is…Do you have $20-30,000 to donate to those that you think should persue adoption?
Hi, Nita. No, I’m terrified. I don’t think it’s easy at all – read my original explanation for asking the question.