By Lisa Manterfield
I like to tell this story about a conversation I once had with a group of people I had recently met. I remember one of the women was telling a story and tossed out that she was unable to have children.
Then she went right on with her story.
She didn’t pause for people to give her sympathetic looks, she didn’t elaborate on why she couldn’t have children, and she didn’t explain that she’d wanted to have them or tried to. She said it matter-of-factly, as if she’d been telling us she didn’t care for the taste of liver and onions.
I was in awe.
Later that day, we were talking about confidence and she told me that it has taken her a long time (she’s in her 50s) to own who she is. “You just can’t entertain that voice that tells you that you’re less than or not good enough,” she said.
How many of us hear that voice and how many us pay attention to what it tells us?
What if we stopped apologizing for who we are? I think we could be very powerful.
Do you have a voice that tells you you’re less than? Do you listen to it? How do you shut it up and own who you are?
I was at the nail salon and the tech asked me: “How many children do you have?” I sighed and said, “I don’t have any children.” She then asked me why not or something like that. And I repeated, “I don’t have any children.” She then concluded, “oh, you don’t like children then.” I finally said, “you know, that’s a very personal question and I don’t want to talk about it.” Then she went on to tell me how many kids her sister had, and some other anecdotal story about someone else’s reproductive history. I tuned most of it out. It irritates me so much that it’s such a popular topic of conversation between women. I am so much more than what may or may not have come out of my vagina.
Hi Lisa, I am mostly there, partly because I breeze past it so people don’t ask questions. I figure the 1 ow 2 who might be in my boat will pull me aside for a chat if they want to. I don’t say it often, but if it brings clarity to what I’m talking about then I’ll fly past it, like that lady.
I’m quite open about the fact that we couldn’t have kids. When people ask how many kiddos we have, I tell them that we couldn’t, but that we have nieces, nephews, a fur baby, and an exchange daughter. Usually, we end up talking about puppies or our hosting experience. I’ve found that if I give them other topics to choose from, it helps steer the conversation to something I’m more comfortable with discussing.