filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
According to an ad for Advantage®II, a mama flea can lay 2,000 eggs during her lifetime.
I realize that statistic is meant to scare me into buying their flea-killing product for my pets, but all I can think is, “That is so friggin’ unfair!”
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She shares her office with two big dogs.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I took a week off over the recent holiday season, something I haven’t done in many years, and I planned all sorts of fun things for myself…of which I did, well, two. At the top of my list was to pull out the old card table and complete a jigsaw puzzle. It brought back memories of cozy holidays by the fireplace and lazy vacations in a remote cabin. I could hardly wait to get to the museum store and select a puzzle (I chose a painting depicting San Francisco landmarks), and I looked forward to indulging in some quiet while the picture was revealed before me.
What was I thinking?! That darn thing—1,000 pieces of a blurry friggin’ watercolor—was hard! It took me three-plus days to put the frame together and a couple of weeks post-holiday of a piece here, a piece there. There were times when I just wanted to sweep all the pieces into the box and move on with my life, but when the last piece slipped into place (Ta-da!), I did experience a gratifying sense of accomplishment.
Overall, I enjoyed my puzzling experience, and it was interesting to look back and realize I’d learned a life lesson in the process. You see, there were nights when I would stare at it and not see a single hook-up. Then, the next morning, I’d glance at it and instantly see where a huge chunk, when tilted slightly to the left, fit perfectly into a section that previously looked unrelated.
This got me thinking about how I can better face challenges in life. Instead of obsessing over it, stressing over it, banging my head against the wall, trying to cram pieces into sections that don’t fit, I need to walk away for a bit. If I take a step back and look at it from a new angle, if I allow myself a rest and return to it refreshed, I’ll be better able to see that all the pieces will come together perfectly—different than what I’d originally envisioned, but indeed perfectly.
It’s like the whole childfree thing. Years spent wanting, waiting, praying, trying to make my life fit the picture in my head. Then one day, a friend said, “Let’s start a blog,” and a whole new world opened up. I became part of a community of women who inspired, challenged, amazed, and comforted me. I found a place to share my stories and learn from others. And I look back at the pieces of my life and see how they’ve come together to reveal a beautiful new picture, one that might never have happened if I’d stayed frustrated, if I’d given up and thrown all the pieces back into the box.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s mostly at peace with her decision to be childfree.
I’ve been following La Belette Rouge on and off for a while now. It’s been interesting to watch her progress.
In the early days, she blogged frequently about her infertility. As she began coming to terms with being childless-not-by-choice, she talked more about her run-ins with her therapist, and the cracks that began to appear in her marriage.
I haven’t checked in on her for a while, so when she blipped onto my radar last week, I was taken aback, but pleased to see this post, Not the Mama/ You Can’t Always Get What You Want.
What a transformation. Here’s a woman who tried almost everything imaginable to get the child she so desperately wanted, and here she is now, standing up and having the courage to say this:
“I feel crazy grateful for how everything worked out so very perfectly. And I think about how if I had gotten what I hoped and prayed and paid Reproductive Endocrinologists for that I would now be a very unhappy gal who likely would not have had the courage to do what I did in March (leave) and how I certainly would not be in this new relationship with this wonderful man who makes me ridiculously happy.”
I know how long it took her to get to this point, and she is the first to admit that there are still days when she is “punched in the ovaries” by a reminder of what she doesn’t have. But, oh, the progress she’s made.
She includes a quote from Truman Capote in her post:
“More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.”
I know for me, there are days, that I can see clearly how my life is better just the way it turned out. And those days are increasing in number all the time.
Recently, my friend calling me, fuming.
She’d been “volunteered” to co-host a baby shower for a woman she knows. Note that I didn’t say a “for a friend.” This woman is the wife of her partner’s colleague. Their relationship is such that she’s only heard about the pregnancy through the grapevine, and not even from the woman herself.
The kicker? The other two “volunteer” co-hosts are both women who don’t have children.
Maybe my friend should be flattered that her organizational skills are so valued, but she doesn’t feel that way. She feels it’s assumed she has time to put together a party because she doesn’t have kids (even though she’s a busy business owner.)
I’m wondering if that person is also thinking that these married, childless women are going to be paid back some time soon with showers of their own. I can’t speak for the other two women, but that’s not the case with my friend, and organizing a celebration for someone else’s baby is not something she’s currently glad to do.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. You can whine on behalf of a put-upon friend if you’d like, or feel free to whine for yourself.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I had more than my share of bad dates during my single years, but one stands out from the crowd of mis-matches: He huffed ’n’ puffed during the flat, 10-minute walk to dinner (I was training for a half marathon), he complained about the food at the restaurant I’d recommended (Who doesn’t like Italian?), and he griped that all the women in California were snobby b*tches (Um, hello?).
As soon as I got home, I called my friend and asked why she’d set us up. “You’re both single,” she said.
After a couple of deep breaths, I gently suggested that she raise her standards. Perhaps in the future she should find out if I had anything in common with the random, eligible bachelor of her choosing before handing out my phone number.
Sadly, I was reminded of this during a recent ladies’ lunch. I was seated next to a woman I hadn’t met before and launched into standard getting-to-know-you questions—job, hometown, connection to the hostess. She was nice enough, but it was soon clear we had little in common…except we were both childfree, the only childfree women at the table.
I looked up from my seat as the other women laughed over toddler antics, compared poopy diaper horror stories, discussed the pros/cons of various baby carriers, and exchanged knowing glances about the challenges of sleepless nights with newborns. In all fairness to the host, I don’t believe she placed us childfree women together on purpose; it was more that the mothers were drawn to each other. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
I certainly understand the need for mothers, especially new mothers, to get out and socialize and to be able to get information and support in their new roles. Had I known what I was walking into, though, maybe I would have bowed out of the lunch. Maybe I could have risen above it and made another stab at finding common ground with my seat mate, but I felt so downtrodden, so invisible, that I just couldn’t muster the courage to make the extra effort. I also didn’t want to talk about being childfree; I’m mostly over it.
What I had looked forward to that day was getting out and talking with women about all sorts of issues, things we could all relate to. Maybe moving forward I should only accept invitations to after-work drinks. I’m thinking not a lot of new mommies will make it out for that, and I’ll be in more amiable company.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She still looks for the good in people.
I write a regular blog called The Plan B Life for PsychologyToday.com. Although the theme of the blog dealing with life when Plan A doesn’t work out, I’ve always got my own Plan A Life – the one that included children – in my mind when I write.
This week’s post was Out With the Old, about the importance of rituals in marking the end of Plan A and preparing to embark on Plan B. I know I’ve talked about this topic before on this blog, but for me, it was the key to starting along the path to coming to terms with a life without children.
If you’re struggling to get forward motion right now, a little symbolic ritual can go a long way. First, you need to acknowledge what it is you need to let go. It could be as big as the dream of motherhood, or it could be bitterness towards a family member or coworker who you feel flaunts her fertility, or it could be facing a fear and taking the next step forward.
Whatever your sticking point, acknowledge it first, then decide to let it go. Find a ritual or something symbolic that means something to you, and try it. It might be a prayer, or lighting a candle, or some kind of cleansing ceremony. Whatever you choose, you’ll be amazed at how freeing and how positive a simple ritual can be.
If you try this, (or if you’ve done something like this in the past) please report in on how it went.
Earlier this week, Rerah commented how great it would be to have a “Fabulous Friday,” where we can list all of the positive things we do or want to do, or are able to do because we don’t have children. I think this would be an excellent way for us all to keep our eyes on the future and what it might hold for us, even as we’re dealing with the past.
Kathleen mentioned that she is planning a cycling trip to France this year and is gathering information on things to do.
My plans for this year also include travel. Mr. Fab and I once created a Bucket List of places we wanted to visit. We made a start on checking things off, but life happened, we got busy and distracted, and our last few trips have been places that are quick and easy to book and don’t require much planning.
So, this year, I’m dusting off my Bucket List, making time to do some research and planning, and then we’re going…somewhere. I’ll report back later.
So what do you have planned, or what would you like to have planned? Could you use some encouragement? Let us know here, so we can keep one another buoyed up and maybe offer advice and support, if needed.
I was recently introduced to Klara, a blogger in Slovenia, and her new blog The Next 15,000 Days. Her title caught my attention immediately, and I had to know what it meant. Here’s what she writes about her choice of title:
“Just a few days before Christmas we will celebrate 3,000 days since our wedding day. Our first 3,000 days were mainly sad. Of course, there were also lots of great things. The greatest was that I realized I married the love of my life; all the pain brought us even closer together. If we are lucky, another 15,000 days are waiting for us. So, we decided to start living a new, happy life. We lost, already, enough days being sad. We just don’t want to lose another day.”
I love this attitude. It’s the same notion Mr. Fab and I had when we decided to start figuring out how to be a family of two. We drew a line in the sand and said, “This is where we start living our lives again. But it’s not always easy to do.
You can’t just decide to not be sad anymore. Sadness and grief are much more complicated and sneaky than that. They tend to hide in unexpected places and leap out on you when you think you’re safe. Family gatherings, pregnancy announcements, and closets where you kept baby clothes you planned to use are all places to be on the look out for a grief ambush.
But you can decide, as Klara says, to “start living a new happy life.” It takes work, and it might not always go as planned, but deciding is half the battle.
So, how do you plan to live your next 15,000 days?
I have a half-whine today. I want to whine about this, but I know I shouldn’t, and I feel guilty and awful about even considering a whine, so I’ll sneak out my whine quickly and then cover it over with counter-whines as quickly as I can.
Every year my mum comes to visit for 5-6 weeks. She goes home in one week’s time…and I’m ready to get my life back.
Please understand, I love my mum. She is an almost perfect houseguest, she’s easy going, keeps her opinions largely to herself, and is a breeze to get along with. She’s active, we share common interests, and we even like the much of the same food.
She’ll be 80 this year and, even though she’s in excellent health, she lost her twin sister recently, and it made me painfully aware of how valuable our time is together. I’m lucky that she’s in good enough shape to be able to fly 6000 miles alone to visit, and I appreciate that my work affords me time to spend with her. I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky, so I’m just squeaking out a tiny whine.
But I’m ready to have my life back. I’m ready to spend time alone with my husband again, to lounge in bed on a Sunday morning, and to go for long walks and talk. I’m ready to throw myself back into work and hunch over my computer for the coming months. I have big plans for this year, and I’m ready to get them started.
And I think my mum’s ready to go home too, back to her garden, her friends, and her busy social life. Her gentleman friend’s phone calls are coming more frequently, and although he would never admit it, he’s probably missing her too.
So, it’s been a great visit, but it’s time for us all to get back to normal.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. Even though mine was just a half-whine today, feel free to let your full whines out, as needed.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Mark your calendars for Saturday, February 11, 2012—the first-ever LWB Meet-Up!
We’ve bandied this about for a while and now it’s going to happen! The San Francisco Group members (look under “Groups” on the Main page of the LifeWithoutBaby site) are going to meet in San Francisco for a casual lunch, a get-to-know-you gathering. If you live in Northern California, sign on with our group and come join us.
This isn’t just for gals in my neighborhood. If you haven’t already, join one of the other regional groups and suggest a meeting place. If your area isn’t represented, start a group (under the Groups column, there’s a place to “+ Add a Group”). If none of this is practical for you, then call or e-mail a childfree friend and ask her out for lunch. You don’t have to tell her what inspired the invitation; think of it as a worthy excuse to catch up with a good friend. (And if it’s just you, then take yourself out for a really nice lunch and we’ll be with you in spirit!)
In my mind, this isn’t a time to get together to bitch about being childless (feel free to do that on tomorrow’s Whiny Wednesday) or to pull out our hankies and share our sorrowful tales (feel free to do that any and every day on LWB, a safe place where you can pour your heart out to a compassionate and sympathetic community). Let’s focus on the positive, break bread together, and simply enjoy being in the company of other great women…who happen to be childfree…just like me.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She loves discussing books and movies, and gathering suggestions for “must-sees” for her upcoming trip to France.
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
