By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
When I was 12 years old, I was assigned the task of creating a family tree. I loved this project, as I was able to trace my father’s family back to their arrival in the U.S. from Ireland in 1762 and learn the names of my grandfather’s 16 (that’s not a typo) siblings. It was thrilling to uncover some long-buried family history.
Relatives on both sides continue to dig into our past, and not long ago a cousin forwarded an updated chart that includes my generation and our children. By “our” children, I mean the children of my siblings and cousins, because, as you know, I don’t have and will never have children. What happens to people like me? I flipped back through the pages and was stopped cold with a line that pruned branches in previous generations: “No issue.”
That’s it. End of the line. You either added to the tree or you became insignificant. No mention of creative writing talents, beautiful singing voices, athletic prowess, or successful careers in politics, all attributes that appear in living relatives. There’s no link to my great-grandmother’s wildly popular donut recipe or my great-aunts’ and great-uncles’ great acts of faith. Nothing to indicate which of my ancestors was funny like my dad, compassionate like my aunt, or courageous like my nieces.
As I think about the tree and my place in it, I’m saddened. No, I think “crushed” might be a better description. My siblings are both listed along with their spouses, and their children appear in a fresh new column. My space for the moment is blank, and I wonder how long it will be before a draft appears that includes my very own “No issue” notation.
I refuse to accept that a life can be measured solely by the producing of heirs. I would like to believe I am making worthy contributions to both my extended family and the world at large. Meanwhile, I’m thinking the printout of all the branches will serve as great kindling for a roaring fire.
Family Trees have always been especially hard for me since I am adopted and know nothing of my biological family… now they just end in a stumpy mess.
I’m so sorry, Kathleen! This post makes me sad, as well. To think that the only way we are seen to have made a contribution to future generations is by having children is heartbreaking. And to remove those of us who are childless from family trees is… I simply don’t have the words. I just can’t believe that we would be cut out so easily. 🙁
I’m sorry, Kathleen. I totally feel your pain with this.
I am fascinated by history and learning about my ancestors. My dad was never very interested in telling me much, and all of my grandparents were either deceased before I was born or died when I was very young. My mom is the only one who tells me some stories now that I’m older, but we are not a family rich in family traditions passed down from generation to generation, which I always wanted.
So within the past year or so I started back on ancestry.com doing my family history. My cousin on my mom’s side already did tons of work on her family, so my dad’s side was the mystery that I wanted to resume working on. I’ve discovered so many interesting things, including a town where I live named after one of my ancestors. So I love it, but at the same time, my mom said, “what are you going to do with all of this?” I was sort of shocked by her question at first, thinking she meant I had no one to pass it down to, but then realized she meant, am I going to compile this and write it up, or just leave it lingering on the ancestry.com website. But it did really hit me that I have no one to share these interesting facts with. All of this info will really die with me. My brother has no children, either, so our tree branch ends with the both of us.
I say I’m going to write all of this family history up, but for whose benefit? I don’t even think my brother cares. My dad seems to care more now that I’m telling him things that he never knew about his own family. I imagine someone decades from now doing a family tree somewhere from the other branches, and see that our branch ends with me, and wonder if they will wonder about who I was and if my life was some sad story because I didn’t have children.
Jenn, write it up anyway. Someone from those other branches will no doubt love to have that information someday! I am hoping one of my cousins’ kids will show some interest in the family history & that I can pass along all my stuff to them someday. If not, I am thinking I will pass it on to the county museum & archives in the area where my family settled. They do a ton of family history-related stuff, so someday it may be useful to some distant relative looking for information.
I actually created a family tree and I was the only one blessed with many trips to Italy to see the birthplace of my ancestors. One branch of the big family tree ends with me. I always asked who is going to get all the artifacts that I inherited from my grandparents and I was suppose to pass onto my children? it is really hard for me…
This is a killer…
I think about the chain of life that started millions of years ago, with maybe a frog-like creature crawling out of a toxic pond or sea… The evolution, the slow change from frog to fish to bird… and eventually an ape, sort of, changing through more millions of years, into a human.
Developing. Wandering the earth, living from it, spreading, slowly. The fires in the caves. The creating of languages. The learning of skills.
The fishing, hunting, later agriculture, and in the short modern part of this, industrialism.
The chain of people that lived and died.
That were born, grew up, had babies, died, through famine, wars – and good times.
Then I come along.
Chain breaks.
Full stop.
I love family history. I have more than 5,000 names in my family tree program on my computer, going back to the 1700s, from various branches of my family. Yes, it is hard to know that this branch ends with me, but when I look at my family tree, I know that I am part of something much bigger. Some people add to the family history by adding children. I like to think that I am contributing, just in a different way. I’m adding family by going backwards & uncovering people & stories that have been forgotten. You just never know if or how you are going to be remembered (and that goes for people with kids as well as those of us without).
A blog post that I wrote about family history, childlessness, forgotten relatives and remembrance:
http://theroadlesstravelledlb.blogspot.ca/2014/03/and-rest-in-unvisited-tombs.html
Like you, I “refuse to accept that a life can be measured solely by the producing of heirs.” If it’s any comfort, whenever I watch “Who do you think you are?” (and I love the UK, US, and Australian versions) I am always comforted by the fact that they often research follow the lives of the siblings of their direct ancestors – ie their great-great-aunt or uncle. And I’m always surprised when they simply leap over several generations – who become simply a name on a tree – to get to someone “interesting.”
I find it interesting that quite often the family members who are interested in their family tree are the ones without children. Perhaps simply our names on trees we have researched will help those coming afterwards remember us?
Maybe it’s a ridiculous way to cope, but I have to hope that my infertility is a contribution to a healing of the earth. It’s over populated and polluted and maybe my branch, my history, my husband’s history, ends with us for a greater good. Even though the heartbreak is of epic proportions on the personal level. I know that empty feeling seeing the end of your history with no one to pass it to. I felt such heavy sorrow when I passed all my research on family, the old pictures, and newspaper articles to my brother and his wife for them and their new baby to have. That was the most difficult baby gift I’ve ever given…
You are so strong to have passed the family tree along, though. You are awesome!
What I found interesting about this post is that when you researched your family tree, there were other relatives who also didn’t have children. It’s sad that that history was lost but we are not alone. There have been other women in history who did not have children-maybe they could not have them or managed to not have them if they did not want them. That is why you should tell your story. It is important to have a history of why some women do not have children and how they are treated and viewed by society. Although my husband and I don’t have kids, he has plenty of cousins and siblings breeding so the genes are not dying out.
Good point, although for all those people with “no issue”, I can tell you nothing about them. I’ve heard stories about my great-grandmother, but never anything about the great-aunts. What’s that line from “Hamilton”…”Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” Maybe this is in part why I’m so passionate about our “Our Stories” column. Here, we share our stories, we hear each other.
Maybe because of my background as a performer and my fascination with the stories I was told, I feel the need to document what I know. This has become a great gift to me personally and to others. Each one of us carries a moment of history, a part of time. I have passed this on to other family members, yes, but also have been able to contribute to special celebrations, marking historical events. “Let me tell you about someone I know who was there!” Yup! I am the end of the branch, but so what?! Each story, adds to our collective experience.
You have a wonderful outlook, Barbara. I love your positive attitude! 🙂