Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Sharing Childhood Memories

Today is an important holiday in my culture-of-origin. In the U.K. it’s Guy Fawkes’ Night or, as it’s more commonly known, Bonfire Night. It’s a cross between the 4th of July, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, when we Brits–in order to show our gratitude for our Government not being blown to smithereens by a bunch of 17th century ne’er-do-gooders–light bonfires, set off fireworks, stuff our faces with roast chestnuts, parkin, and bonfire toffee, and then burn effigies of the traitors. It’s all very barbaric, but it was still always my second favorite holiday, after Christmas.

Now that I live 6,000 miles away from my hometown, I miss Bonfire Night. On my list of fondest childhood memories, Bonfire Night ranks pretty near the top. And it makes me sad sometimes (this year, apparently) that I have no one to pass along these memories and traditions to. I’ll never get the chance to tell stories of my favorite Bonfire Nights to my children or make Bonfire Toffee that they’ll remember 30 or 40 years later.

I’m sure part of my melancholy comes from knowing my own childhood is gone, but sharing days like this with my own children is one of the things I’m sad I’ll never get to do.



My Family Car Stickers

I don’t know if these are popular where you are, but in my neighborhood, they’re everywhere. They used to annoy me. I begrudged the smug little families competing against one another for the glory of biggest, most interesting, or cutest family. Isn’t it enough that you have a family without having to parade them around as well?

Anyway, I’m over it now. When I take off my Baby Grinch hat, I have to admit that these stickers are pretty cute. What’s more, according to the company website, they’re only $2.99 a figure, which means that since my goldfish passed away last month, I can get my entire family—Jose, me, and the cat—for under $10!

Now that’s something to be smug about.

Whiny Wednesday

I’ve missed Whiny Wednesday lately. I keep trying to put a positive spin on it or even whine on a theme, but this week I think it’s time to just have a good old-fashioned whine.

What’s on your mind? What’s under your skin? What do you feel you have to be a grown-up about when what you really want to do is throw a tantrum? Now’s your chance to get it off your chest.

Whine on, sisters!

It Got Me Thinking…About Women in the News

Lately I’ve observed a troubling trend. The bleeding news that leads frequently starts with something like “A mother of three…,” as in “A mother of three was found murdered in her home” or “A grandmother was brutally raped.” And it got me thinking…are only tragedies involving mothers newsworthy? Would it be any less tragic if the victim was, say, for example, me?

It’s not just in the primetime news slots that I see this occurring. Three recent shows in Oprah’s final season were titled “The Bravest Mom in the World is Set Free” (9/22), “The Mom Who Fathered Her Own Children” (9/29), and “One Mom, 20 Personalities” (10/6). In each case, I can’t imagine the story would be any less impactful if we substituted the word “Woman” for “Mom.”

Who’s behind this? Did some big marketing study show that “Mom” is a buzzword that attracts viewers (and advertisers)? Is there some sinister plot afoot to further ostracize women without babies? What does it say about our society that being a mom makes you a better story? And how does all this make us, women who are childfree, feel about ourselves?

Me, I’m kind of pissed. But I’m not ready to carry a sign, write angry letters, or start an impassioned campaign online. I already feel marginalized, and I don’t want to subject myself to the “you-must-be-a-child-hating-anti-mom-bitch” response I fear would come.

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. Her articles have appeared in AAA’s Westways, GRIT, Real Simple, and 805 Living magazines. Read “How to Be the World’s Best Aunt Ever” on eHow.com.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolff?

A couple of weekends ago I went to a local theatre to see the Edward Albee play, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. It’s a play that was lauded when it was first produced in the ‘60s, and was made more famous by the Elizabeth Taylor/Richard Burton movie version. It’s the story of George and Martha, a bitter married couple, living an illusion, and dragging a young unsuspecting couple into their turmoil. I’ve seen the play and the movie in the past, but it wasn’t until I saw it this time that the story really hit me.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Early in the story, the subject of George and Martha’s son comes up, but as the story unfolds it becomes clear that someone is not telling the truth about the son. At the end of the play, it is revealed that George and Martha couldn’t have children, and the fictional son is part of a twisted psychological game the couple plays together. What makes the story heart-wrenching is that it becomes apparent that the game is ordinarily a tender private game, but in the play they have broken their own rule and made their son public. Consequently the game becomes a bitter, ugly battle.

Martha is a drunk and a philanderer, she’s bitter, twisted, and frankly, unhinged. She is also childless-not-by-choice. It’s easy to dismiss Martha as crazy, but seeing the play this time, I found myself nodding, and saying to myself, “Yes, I can see how she became the way she is.” Martha had great expectations for her life and it just didn’t turn out the way she planned, so she fabricated the life she wanted instead.

I could have written a post today about how childless women are so often portrayed as anything from odd to downright crazy, but the truth is, Albee took the very real emotions and social stigma of being childless-not-by-choice and created an extreme, but very real scenario. In my opinion Who’s Afraid Virginia Woolf deserves all the critical acclaim it received.

Taking Care of Myself

I’ve been sick this week. Not sick enough to fully take to my bed, but sick enough to cancel appointments, push non-urgent work projects to another day, and crash down for a deep, drooling sleep in the afternoon.

I have the luxury of doing that.

I have the flexibility to adjust my work schedule. I have the luxury of a quiet house. I live with people who can fend for themselves if I’m not up to cooking. And I can allow myself the time to take care of myself. If I had kids, it would be a different story. While my head was pounding on Tuesday, I tried to imagine the noise of a two-year-old added to the mix. While I was sipping herbal tea under a blanket, my friend with two boys in preschool, would have been up, feeding, entertaining, changing diapers, etc.

Being sick is not how I choose to spend my life, but if it has to happen, it’s a lot easier to manage without kids.

Motherhood Becomes Issue in Gubernatorial Race

We saw it earlier this year, with Elena Kagan’s Supreme Court nomination, but now the issue of motherhood as a qualification has raised its ugly head again, this time in Oklahoma’s race for governor.

NBC News reports that Republican candidate, U.S. Rep. Mary Fallin, claimed her experience as a mother made her more qualified to run the state than her single, childless opponent, Lt. Gov. Jari Askins. Fallin said:

“I think my experience is one of the things that sets me apart as a candidate for Governor. First of all, being a mother, having children, raising a family…”

Really? While I can see how coordinating lunches and settling tantrums could certainly be useful in state politics, I curious…HOW does being a mother really qualify a person for the job of running a state? How dare she suggest that a childless woman couldn’t possibly be up to the job?

Sorry, but it smells to me like another attempt to use “family values” as a selling point, suggesting that a woman without children has none. Shame on you, Mary Fallin, for playing the motherhood card. As a woman, you should know better than that.

A Beautiful Voice for the Childless

Monica Wiesblott just closed a beautiful exhibition of her artwork in her show Barren: Life on Infertile Soil. If you didn’t make it the show, you can view it in her online gallery of the show.

I didn’t go to the show, even though I wanted to meet Monica and the gallery is just a couple of hours from my home. My mum is still here with me and I just wasn’t ready to take her with me nor was I able to get away alone. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you’ll know that, although my mother knows about my infertility, we don’t really talk about it, and I’m okay with that. I get to talk to you about it instead. J So I wasn’t ready to open up that Pandora ’s Box with my mother by taking her to the show. Maybe one day, maybe not.

But I did view Monica’s show online, in the privacy of my own room. It’s beautiful and frank, sometimes even raw, but most of all it is courageous. Monica has put out there in photographs and sculpture, what many of us who have dealt with infertility, or who are otherwise childless-not-by-choice, have felt and experienced.

Monica told me:

“I have received a lot of wonderful positive response from the show, many people have cried in the gallery and many, many others have trusted me enough to share their stories of loss. I am usually approached with the words, “I have never told anyone this….”

It’s my hope that if people like Monica keeping talking and showing, fewer women will have to say, “I have never told anyone this….”

Please check out the show online. Monica is hoping to take the show to other galleries, so if you happen to move in artistic circles and can help, please let Monica know.

My Ex’s Kids

It’s happened to me a few times over the years. The first time an ex resurfaced was pre-Facebook through a site called Friends Reunited. He was my first true love and it was fun to see his face and remember the good times we had when we were way too young (and thankfully smart enough) to do anything more than fantasize about getting married and having kids together. When he told me about his wife and two little girls, I felt a little melancholy for the life I could have had, but knew I made the right choice when we broke up and I pursued a different life.

The next run-in was in-person with the ex-fiancé who had never wanted kids. I ran into him with his new wife and daughter when I was right in the thick of my infertility madness. That time I was livid, furious, jealous, feeling that the world had done me wrong, thinking how he’d wasted five years of my life and frittered away my chance to have children of my own.  Fortunately my husband was with me at the time and I was instantly reminded that my ex’s lack of desire for children wasn’t the only reason we were no longer together.

This week another ex resurfaced on the dreaded Facebook. He was a high school boyfriend and we “went out” for a few months, as I recall. Nice guy, but I think I was probably about 15 at the time. He friended me on FB and I accepted, and of course went straight to his photos to look for evidence of his current life. There were photos of two little blonde girls and him playing board games with them, and I felt…nothing. No envy, no sadness, not even relief.

We all choose our paths in life. Sometimes the path choses us, but even then we still have choices to make about how we walk that path. I didn’t plan to have a life without children, but I always planned to have a good life, and I do. When I look at the lives I might have had with the men I might have had them with, I realize that they weren’t the life I wanted. I like my life, it’s a good life, and even if it’s a life without children, it’s still the life I want.