It’s Whiny Wednesday. Hurray!
This week’s topic needs no introduction, so I’m just going to post it:
Whine away!
If I Had to Do It All Again…
By Lisa Manterfield
Mr. Fab and I don’t talk much anymore about our infertility journey. He’d as soon forget the whole ordeal and I prefer to look forward rather than dwelling on what might have been. But recently it came up in conversation.
“If I had to doit all again, I would,” he told me.
My first thought was “No way!” I wouldn’t wish that experience on my worst enemy and I don’t think I could bear to see Mr. Fab go through it again. But when I thought about it some more, I see there are positives that came out of it.
We are tougher than we were before, both individually and as a couple. We now know we can weather a major storm, and we’ll be okay when the next one comes along (and they always come along). I’m more compassionate toward others who might be in pain, now that I know what it’s like to be smiling in public and dying on the inside. I learned a lot about myself and how I handle crisis, and we’ve learned about one another. We’ve uncovered the people we really are.
So if I had to do it all again, I would. Would you?
The Power of Voice
By Lisa Manterfield
A couple of years ago, I attended the World Domination Summit in Portland, OR, where I spent the weekend surrounded by creative types and some incredible people looking to make a difference in the world. It was truly an inspiring experience.
While I took something of value away from every speaker who presented, every story I heard, and every person I met and talked with, there were, as always, standouts.
One speaker, Shannon Galpin, told her story of traveling to Afghanistan to provide education programs for women and girls in conflict zones. She talked about going into a women’s prison in Kandahar to interview some of the women and girls being held there. She was concerned that these women, already in danger because of their actions, would not be willing to speak to her and tell their stories. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
So many women wanted to talk to her, she ended up spending hours over the course of several days sitting with them and recording their stories. At the end of her time, one woman unclipped her elaborate hair clip and offered it as a thank you gift. “No one has ever cared enough to hear our stories,” she said. This experience prompted Shannon’s wonderful TED Talk on pity, apathy, and the power of voice, which I encourage you to watch when you have 10 minutes to spare.
The sentiment also struck a deep chord in me as I thought more about this idea of sharing stories and having a voice. It made me think about some of the conversations I’ve had about why I don’t have children, how the topic is met with pity or apathy, or handled with platitudes about whether we tried x or y treatment or if we considered adoption. Even people who know and care about me have expressed their own discomfort about the frankness of what they’ve read in my book or one of my blog posts. It has sometimes felt as if no one really wants to hear the story of what happened and how much the loss of not getting something I really wanted—having a child of my own—has rippled into every aspect of my life.
But that isn’t going to stop me talking because, for every person who’s squirmed, I’ve come across ten who’ve said, “I appreciate your honesty” or “That’s exactly how I feel” or “Thank you for giving me a voice.”
Since launching “Our Stories” on this site, we’ve featured dozens of your voices. Firstly, I want to send an enormous hug to everyone who had the courage to share her story. I also want to give a massive shout-out to Kathleen who created the column and works one-on-one with every storyteller.
Gwen shared her story and told Kathleen, “Putting my story out there and reading responses from women who have dealt with the same exact problems and feel the same way as I do… I am comforted and I do not feel so alone.”
And Maria said, “I felt like people connected with my story and it gave them hope. I feel like we are all here for a reason and that is my purpose right now—to take what I have learned and share it with others.”
This is the power of voice. This is why we keep telling our stories, even when it gets uncomfortable for us and even when it sparks pity or apathy in others.
We’d love to share your story. You can find a questionnaire to get you started and details on how to submit on the Our Stories page. I hope this will help you to find your voice, inspire others, and know that you’re not alone.
Our Stories: Noël
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Just 43, Noël* has entered pre-menopause and is “finding that my days are so hard to deal with lately”. I hear that! It’s not enough that we’re dealing with the grief of losing our dreams, we also get to face the challenges of our bodies going through The Change. Where’s the good news?
Noël has found some inspiration in the form of a personal chero (a hero who happens to be childfree), a friend from high school who made her own choice to not have children. “She is a career person and does her job very well,” Noël says. “She wants the freedom, and she never looked back.”
Here’s more of Noël’s story. I hope you’ll find some encouragement here and start thinking about who your personal cheros might be and how they might inspire you.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood?
Noël: I ran out of time. I didn’t want to be a single parent, and my husband didn’t want any more children. I made a choice not to have any.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Noël: I’m angry at times, and it’s depressing to see nieces around me popping out kids. It’s hard to be around them, and I don’t ever want to take care of anyone else’s kids!
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Noël: When I got married for the first time at 40, I realized that I had to make a choice. My husband, who already has two, didn’t want any more kids.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Noël: My last conversation with my mother before her unexpected death was when I was engaged. She asked if I was going to have any children, and I told her no. She wished for a “mini” me of myself, and it still hurts to think about that conversation. I see my sisters with their grown kids and know I will never have that bond. I will always be the “aunt”, and no one ever calls the aunt unless they need something.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Noël: Freedom to do whatever I want. Travel! That’s a plus!
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Noël: Being extremely good at what I do and saving for my future. I have also thought about volunteering in other countries for children who are less fortunate.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
Noël: “Do you really want to reproduce your family history?” LOL! I have some bad seeds among my brothers, and I always think about that. You never know what you’re going to pop out, eh?
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Noël: I don’t need children to help me feel complete and happy. I’m already happy.
*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name to conceal her identity, if she chooses.
Where are you on your journey? Are your wounds raw? Have you made some progress toward accepting a life without children? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Whiny Wednesday: Do You Want Mine?
If you’re new to the site, you might wondering what Whiny Wednesday is all about.
A few years ago, some readers commented that they couldn’t express how they felt around friends and colleagues, as they were always made to feel as if they were whining. So, we created Whiny Wednesday as a place to complain and grumble about whatever’s on your mind each week. It can be an issue surrounding living without children, or just a general grumble about life, work, family, the world.
I used to start each post with a gripe of my own, but lately I’ve found I’ve covered most of what bothers me, so I put out a call for Whiny Wednesday topics, and you, dear readers, came through! So, each week, I offer one of your suggested topics as a starting point, but as always, any topic is fair game.
So, let’s kick off with this week’s topic:
Parents who complain and complain then ask “Do you want my kids?”
Happy whining!
I’m Taking Leap of Faith…and I’m Nervous
There’s a school of thought that says: When you start to feel afraid of taking a leap or making a change, that’s when you know you’re making the right decision. I’m choosing to subscribe to this school of thought this week, because I’m starting to feel nervous about an upcoming leap of faith.
A couple of months ago I had a brilliant idea. You know the kind I mean. It came to me in an instant and I immediately wondered why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I began thinking about this idea all the time and planning out how it would work. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a really great idea. So, I told a couple of people and they thought it was a good idea. So I told a couple more. And before I knew it, I was committed.
Then, this week, things started to get real. The pieces of my plan began clicking into place, money changed hands, and I passed the point of no return, or at least the point of no return without humiliation. Suddenly, I was really nervous.
All the reasons why this was the best idea I’ve ever had suddenly got a little fuzzy at the edges. I woke up in the night with a list of all the things that could go wrong, all the reasons why this was a stupid idea, and I knew I had to make a decision. I could:
A) Call the whole thing off, cut my losses, and go back to my old safe, but ineffective, way of doing things.
B) Put it off a couple more weeks, give myself some time to firm up a few more details and mitigate some of the potential disasters.
C) Pinch my nose, close my eyes, and leap in feet first, hoping that I’d figured out quickly how to swim.
I’ll admit that all these options looked good, but finally, I made a decision. The only way I would ever truly know if this was the best idea since sliced bread was to commit and go for it.
So, here goes…
Next week, Wednesday July 27, I will launch a new serialized novel, A Strange Companion. I will publish a new chapter of the novel every single week until I get to “The End”, sometime in early 2017.
I’ve never done anything like this before and honestly, it goes against all my beliefs about how to go about publishing a book. I’m afraid it won’t be good enough. I’m afraid people won’t like it. I’m afraid I’ll get to Chapter 5 or 10 or 20 and realize I started in the wrong place or that there’s an important character or set-up that really needed to appear in Chapter 7.
Regardless, I’m doing it. I’ve had enough of fate deciding what I will or won’t be in this life. My future lies in writing fiction and I’m taking matters into my own hands.
If you happen to be a fiction lover and want to come along on this adventure with me, you can find out a bit more about the project at LisaManterfield.com. If you don’t happen to read fiction, then all I ask is for your good wishes and sharp shove out the door.
Whiny Wednesday: Feeling Imperfect
This week’s topic is another tender subject:
The constant struggle of feeling my life is imperfect because of not having children.
How do you feel about this? Has that feeling changed with the passing of time?
As always, the floor is open for any other whines and rants you need to get off your chest.
How to be Happily Childfree in 10,000 Easy Steps
By Lisa Manterfield
This post is an oldie, originally posted on April 26, 2012, but I think it’s worth a rerun. You can see what others had to say in the original comments here.
There are two questions I get asked frequently: How did you come to terms with not having children, and how long did it take?
The answer is something akin to “how long is a piece of string and how many knots can you tie in it?”
Believe me when I tell you that if I could write down ten easy steps to making peace with being childfree-not-by-choice, I’d do it, but the answer isn’t that simple. Yes, there were many things that happened along the way that helped me make some peace, but it took closer to 10,000 steps than ten.
Writing down my story was hugely cathartic, venting about the injustices on this blog helped, too. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this and that people like you were out there wanting to talk through the minefield has helped immeasurably. Drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is where that chapter of my life ends and this is where I start healing” also helped. And frankly, telling myself a big fat lie that I was better off not being a mother actually helped me to realize that in many ways I was. Setting new goals, appreciating the benefits of not having kids, and allowing myself to feel bitter and badly treated when I needed to. All these things helped.
I don’t think there’s a formula for working your way through this, and it’s definitely a journey of making forward process and dealing with inevitable setbacks.
As for how long the process takes? How long is that piece of string? It’s been three years for me and I consider myself largely at peace with my situation. I have closed the door on the idea that I will have children someday and most days I’m good with it. Everyday it gets a little better and a little easier. Some days there will be reminders of what I’ve lost and sometimes a flicker of a thought of “what if…”
The truth is, in many ways, I expect this piece of string to go on forever. The experience of infertility has changed me. It is one of the most significant and life-changing events of my life, and I don’t think the repercussions of that will ever stop reverberating. It doesn’t mean I won’t find harmony and even happiness in this new life – I already have – but I don’t expect this journey of coming-to-terms to ever fully end.
Story Power: A Campfire Story for Your Younger Self
By Lisa Manterfield
Since we humans first began gathering into social and familial groups, we’ve used stories to create a sense of community. Early hunter-gatherers shared tales to pass along information, traditions, and important lessons.
In this fascinating Life Science article, Campfire Tales Served as Early Human Social Media, researchers noticed a big difference between daytime and nighttime campfire stories told among a tribe of Kalahari Bushmen. While the daytime conversations were made up of only 6 percent stories, the rest being complaints, gossip, hunting plans, and jokes, once the tribe gathered around the nighttime campfires, 81 percent of conversations were stories.
The stories passed along information about tribal customs and ceremonies, as well as warnings of dangers, such as the story of three bushmen killed in a fire. The tribe also used stories to pass information to younger generations.
Modern Stories
Even today, we find our way around in the world and understand who we are through handed down stories. I heard stories about my aunt who emigrated to Australia by boat in the 1940s, which helped me understand why I seemed to be the only person in my family to move far from home. I recently learned that my habit of dragging my husband on long, under-prepared hikes comes not from my dad, as I’d always believed, but from my mum, who had the same habit.
As a child, I learned about the dangers of electrocution, of hot cooking oil, of crossing the street, not from formal lessons, but from stories told by others. More recently, my social media feed has bombarded me with a million things to worry about, everything from terrorist attacks to falling off a cliff while playing Pokémon Go.
From this community, I’ve learned from other people’s stories that I was not alone in my experiences, and gained ideas about how to cope with challenges. And writing my own story has helped me to understand myself too, to give perspective to experiences I didn’t fully understand as they we happening.
As you think about the stories you might tell, what important wisdom would you pass along if you had the chance to sit around the campfire with your younger self?
Whiny Wednesday: Unfair Expectations
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your opportunity to rant on a theme.
This week’s topic has been brought up by several readers:
Feeling that you’re expected to carry a disproportionate responsibility for the care of aging parents because you don’t have children to worry about.
Feel free to add your own whines, too.
