Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Why I Didn’t “Wait Too Long” to Have Children

I was asked once, by a well-intentioned person, if I thought I’d waited too long to start trying to have children. I have to admit that the thought has flitted across my mind on more than one occasion, but once I stop to think it through, I’m able to answer the question with a resounding “No!”

I remember being completely affronted (and rightly so) by a very conservative college professor who told me that the prime age for women to have children was 18. Of course, looking at a chart of fertility vs. age, I now see that he was correct, even if his suggestion that motherhood might be a more suitable choice than college was extremely misguided.

Looking back at my 18-year-old self, it’s hard to imagine what would have happened if that young woman had become a mother. Yes, I know lots of women do it, and I probably would have too, if I’d had to. But thinking about all the upheavals I’ve put myself through, I just cannot imagine that a child would have benefited from having me as an 18-year-old mother. Maybe (maybe) my supposed topnotch fertility at that age would have enabled me to conceive, but it would have been no guarantee of my suitability as a mother.

The truth is, I have absolutely no idea if I was fertile at 18. I assumed that, like many, many women, I would still be fertile at 34, and look how that turned out. There’s no way of knowing how long ago my body decided it wasn’t up to the task of reproducing, and now I’ll never know.

When I look back at the 18-34 years, they were rocky, but good. I had all kinds of experiences that I couldn’t have had if I’d had children to take care for. I went to college—twice—moved to another continent, traveled to many countries, did volunteer work, had fun but unsuitable relationships, changed careers (more than twice), and got to sample adventures not well-matched to motherhood. I certainly don’t feel as if I wasted those years. I wonder if I’d feel the same if I’d been raising children all those years.

So, no, I don’t feel as if I waited too long. I waited until I was ready, and while I waited, I was busy living my life to the fullest, and I don’t consider that wasted time at all.

Childless-Not-by-Choice Awareness

You may have noticed a new ribbon in the sidebar of the site today. It’s the new Childless-Not-by-Choice Awareness ribbon, and I am proud to share it.

The ribbon is the brainchild of Brandi from Not So Mommy. Her goal in creating the ribbon is to raise awareness about our community and to reduce the stigma surrounding childlessness. You can read more about her mission in her post today, and about how she came to choose olive green for the ribbon.

As I told Brandi, as long as the childless-not-by-choice community remains in the shadows, we cannot begin to have conversations around the issues we face. Awareness is an important first step towards education, acceptance, and healing.

But how do we create awareness when we’re in the midst of our own grieving?

If you’ve been reading this blog or my books, you’ll know I’m a big proponent of taking care of yourself first and working through your own grief before venturing into the tricky territory of trying to educate others. But Brandi and I, and many others, are now at a point where we can talk about our childlessness and losses without having a meltdown. If you’re at, or getting to, that stage, how might you start to raise awareness?

Despite writing openly about infertility for the past decade, I’m actually quite a private person, definitely an introvert. It’s not in my nature to wear pins or t-shirts that encourage questions, or to march for awareness. My personal awareness campaign happens one person at a time. Now I’m past my grieving stage, I can:

  • Talk to people about the losses of childlessness
  • Educate them about what it really takes to “just” do IVF or “just” adopt
  • Encourage empathy and understanding to help others who are grieving
  • Keep writing about my experience and sharing it with the world.

What about you? How can you contribute to the awareness of our community in a way that feels right for you? I’d love to hear your ideas.

Whiny Wednesday: Mother’s Day Part I

A big thank you to Jane for reminding me that this Sunday is Mother’s Day in the UK.

I always do a Mother’s Day post in May in preparation for the event here in the U.S., but of course, that’s too little too late for UK readers.

So, this week’s topic Mother’s Day, Part I. If you’re getting ready for the coming weekend’s challenges, feel free to reach out here. What are you dreading? How are planning to deal with the day?

If you need some tips, here are a couple of posts that might be useful:

Preparing for Mother’s Day

Bah Humbug to Mother’s Day, but Not to Mother

The Mother’s Day Card I Wish Existed

For everyone else, it’s open forum today.

Thriving as a Childless Woman

Happy Monday to you. 

Many of you know Kathleen from her Friday “It Got me Thinking” column. She’s taking a break at the moment, but today I’m pleased to share with you her recent conversation with Alexandra Epple of the Women Gone VibrantPodcast. 

Alexandra’s podcast is a health and wellness show for women navigating midlife and menopause. She talked to Kathleen about the often-overlooked topic of thriving in mid-life and beyond when you don’t have children.

It’s a lively discussion, and I encourage you to give it a listen. You can find the podcast here:

https://alexandraepple.com/thriving-as-childless-woman

You can also access it on your phone’s podcast app by searching for “Women Gone Vibrant”. (If you don’t have a podcast app, download the Overcast App.) You can also find it on Kathleen’s blog, 52 Nudges.

As a footnote to this interview, Alexander says she heard from one of her subscribers that she prefers “childFREE” to “childLESS”. Here’s what Kathleen replied: 

“Childless v childfree is an ongoing discussion. I absolutely respect each person’s choice. For me, I’ll never be “free”; I’ll always feel some sense of loss in this. However, as I move forward, I find that my life is child-full as I make the effort to engage with nieces, nephews, godsons, and the children of dear friends. That is my choice.”

Enjoy the conversation.

Whiny Wednesday: Childless People Have Money to Burn


A TIME magazine cover story awhile ago, “The Childfree Life,” came with an image of an attractive (and color-coordinated) couple lounging on a tropical, white sand beach, seemingly without a care in the world, resplendent in their designer sunglasses. That image prompted this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

The assumption that if you don’t have kids you have money to burn

 Whine away, my friends.

When Spring Cleaning Unearths Memories

Spring has almost sprung and, as usual, I find myself in a cleaning and decluttering frenzy.

I’ve made trips to the thrift store with bags of clothes that are too big, too small, or just plain ugly. I’ve purged my kitchen of all those “good idea” gadgets, rusted cake pans, and broken plates that I’ll get around to gluing “someday.” I’ve even parted with a box full of books, which is a big give-up for me. And I’ve been eyeing the curtains in my living room and thinking about throwing them in the washer.

I go through this every year and find it very therapeutic. But in the past, it’s also been a dangerous pursuit, fraught with emotional landmines.

One year, while rummaging through a rarely used cupboard, I came across some baby-related stuff. I’d been getting rid of all those things bit-by-bit, and I was fairly sure they were all gone. So it was a deflating moment when I unearthed some items that had slipped through the net.

This find was particularly difficult, as it was the glossy information packet we received from our first fertility clinic. It had a picture of a beautiful glowing baby on the front and was filled with encouraging stories, happy family photos, and explanations as to how the expert team would help us build the family of our dreams. Inside I found test results, ovulation charts, and notes written in my own handwriting, reminding me of where I’d been. The whole thing reeked of hope and it stirred up some of those old emotions.

To my credit, I ditched the whole thing without getting upset. I didn’t keep one scrap of paper. There was another, similar item in the cupboard, too, but now I can’t even remember what it was, because I tossed that out as well.

After that, I went to my bookshelves and pulled out the Knitting for Two book I’d been keeping. In addition to the maternity cardigan I started (that was still somewhere in the house) I’d actually used the book to knit a sweater for a friend’s baby. I only did it once, because it was so painful, and I realized that it was part of the hair shirt I chose to wear for a while, when I was forcing myself to be around other people’s babies, and to be “genuinely happy” about pregnancy announcements. This was long before I figured out my need to grieve and heal, so that I could genuinely be happy for someone else’s news. At that time, I had opted to torture myself by knitting from my baby’s book. So out it went.

My purging of baby stuff was a gradual process. At first, I couldn’t get rid of anything. After a while I threw out the assorted test kits, and the doctor info, moving slowly towards throwing out baby clothes (and even a maternity top a friend had given me.) The fertility and pregnancy books went next, and so it continued.

I’ve no doubt that there will be other landmines scattered around my house, even now, and that they’ll come to the surface some day, but now I know I can handle them. And I know I can throw them away with no (or little) love lost.

Whiny Wednesday: Pressure to be Amazing


Often we feel pressure to do something incredible with our lives because we won’t be doing the other “incredible” thing: being mothers.

In the past it’s sparked some healthy discussion, so I thought I’d use it as this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling the pressure to do something else amazing instead

Let the healthy discussion begin!

What a Difference a Decade Makes

This month marks nine years since I wrote the first post for Life Without Baby. It will be a whole decade since I acknowledged that I would not be a mother by any means.

Ten years sounds like a really long time, doesn’t it? But I have passed so many milestones on the way to getting where I am now.

First there was the decision to get off the fertility crazy train. I passed that milestone several times, each time hopping back onboard for one more try. Eventually, I passed it for the last time. I cancelled my next doctor appointment and never went back.

I passed another milestone when I stopped envying/hating/coveting every pregnant belly I saw. I have since held other people’s babies, made it through Mother’s Days without tears, and gone shopping for baby shower gifts. Each was a significant milestone.

Eventually, after a number of years, I stopped being so sad about all I’d missed out on. I started building a new life and taking advantage of the benefits of not having children.

Ten years ago, I could never have imagined I’d look at my life, see how completely different it would have been with children, and feel satisfied that things worked out well after all. I hadn’t even known that milestone would be there until I passed it one day a couple of years ago.

None of this came easily. I went through dark periods of grief, of feeling angry and resentful. I’ve felt horribly lonely and alienated from people with “normal” lives. I’ve been in turns bitter, embarrassed, defiant, even vengeful about being infertile and childless. I’ve also felt relief and even slightly smug.

And after these ten years, I feel acceptance of my life that way it is, an understanding that when the motherhood door closed for me, others opened (although I sometimes didn’t see them at first.) I like my life just the way it is.

Maybe you can see yourself at one of these milestones. Maybe you’re making peace with the hand you’ve been dealt, maybe you’re moving on with a different kind of life, too.

If you see yourself all the way at the beginning of this post, wondering how on earth you’re ever going to be okay again, hang in there. You’re not alone. I, and many other readers on this site, are here to tell you that it does get better in time. Most likely, it will take longer than you ever imagined, but from my experience, the end result will also be better than you could have possibly foreseen.

***

The other surprise outcome of my infertility is that I have written books about it. That was never part of my plan either. (I had always hoped to write fiction someday, which I have, but writing about infertility was an unexpected and rewarding detour.)

I wrote about my infertility journey and my decision to stop trying to be a mother in my first book, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No the Motherhood.  Then, after blogging my way through coming-to-terms with that decision and dealing with the loss, I wrote a guidebook to help other navigate their way. That book is Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.

And now I’d like to ask you a small favor. If you’ve read either of these books and found them helpful, would you take a minute and leave a review on your bookseller site of choice? It need only be a couple of sentences about what you liked (or what you didn’t, if that’s the case), but it will really help others looking for this sort of book, and of course, it would be a huge help to me. You can click on the links below and they’ll take you where you need to go.

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