Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

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.

MP900289486There 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.

Whiny Wednesday: Unfair Expectations

Whiny_WednesdayIt’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.

Guest Post: No Apologies

By Justine Brooks Froelker, LPC, CDWF

Battling through IVF and learning to accept a childfree life means we are faced, sometimes daily, with uncomfortable social situations and questions about our motherhood status and how we got here. It also means the wounds of infertility, especially in the beginning when things are completely raw, continue to be open, gaping wounds. And at times, it can feel like society callously pours salt into us over and over.

Infertility, IVF, pregnancy loss and childfree acceptance are some of the most shamed words in our lexicon. The blogging universe has helped move us past this shame in many ways; however we have a long way to go in my opinion. My blog, Ever Upward, is my story; completely honest, completely open and without much shame…anymore at least.

Owning my story, completely and out loud, for the world to read has changed my life. My healing journey continues to improve and I am making connections with so many people all over the world. However, I completely understand and get that this is not how most of us going through infertility and childfree acceptance feel. However, I would like to offer a permission for all of us.

No apologies.

If you aren’t ready for that baby shower, politely decline. If your friend only talks about her brand new baby or her kids, respectfully ask her about something else in her life or bravely ask her to stop. Or simply greatly limit your time with her. Only you know what you are ready for with wherever you are in your journey. Give yourself permission to ask for what you want and need and to set boundaries. And do it without apology, especially to yourself.

As I write, I am headed home from my certification training with The Daring Way™ based on the research of Brené Brown. Through my work in the last 5 days I have learned more about my shame surrounding my IVF journey. Of course the misunderstandings and judgments that society and others have surrounding infertility can make shame envelope me so quickly that I completely shrink. But, through my work I also learned that at times I shut myself down in telling my full story because I know it is difficult for others to hear. Not only do they not want to discuss shamed infertility but they also don’t want to have to feel how sad my story is. Or how much they wish I could be a mother because they know I’d be a great mother. I find that I quiet myself and don’t share because I shield myself from feeling shame by people pleasing and caretaking, not wanting someone I care about to feel any pain, let alone my pain.

But, I also silence myself because I really don’t want their fucking sympathy.

I hopefully yearn for their empathy, and one day their understanding.

In the light filled spirit that has washed over me after learning the curriculum of The Daring Way™ I am filled with courage and hope. I will no longer shy away from my story, ever. I will practice my shame resilience. I will stop making apologies to society, to my friends and family, but most of all to myself.

So without any apology:

I am Justine.

I tried IVF two times with a gestational surrogate, and for us two times is enough and one more time than we really could afford both financially and emotionally.

I can’t have kids.

I tried very hard to be a mother.

I paid a lot of money to be a mother.

And, I put my body (and my surrogate’s body) through hormonal hell to have a baby.

But they were never my babies to love here on earth.

I know that adoption isn’t for me.

And so I work, sometimes every minute of every day, to accept my childfree life and to let go of my childlessness.

And I will no longer silence myself because my story is sad or scary for anyone, as I will no longer allow shame to steal my true self.

Because, this is my ever upward.

No apologies.

 

Justine Brooks Froelker is a Licensed Professional Counselor and a Certified Daring Way™ Facilitator (based on the research of Brené Brown) with a private practice in St. Louis, Missouri (www.jbftherapyandcoaching.com). In February 2011, she and her husband began their journey in the world of IVF. 2 rounds of IVF with a gestational surrogate, 2 transfers, 3 babies never to be born and learning to accept a childfree life later, Ever Upward was conceived. 

The Power of Voice

By Lisa Manterfield

MP900433193Last year 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.”

Last year, we launched “Our Stories” on this site. Since then, we’ve featured more than two dozen of your voices. Firstly, I want to send an enormous hug to everyone who had the courage to share her story. I always want to give a massive shout-out to Kathleen who created the column and worked 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.

Our Stories will be taking a short hiatus in August, as I take my customary summer break and rerun some of the year’s favorite posts. But we’ll be picking up again in September and we’d love to share your story.

You’ll 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.

Whiny Wednesday: Parental Milestones

Whiny_WednesdayGraduation season is upon us and social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feelings of jealousy when friends and relatives celebrate the milestones of being parents and grandparents.


As always, your other whines are always welcome.

Whiny Wednesday: Uber Parents

Whiny_WednesdayThey’re everywhere. You’ve heard them spouting about pre-schools. You’ve seen them take over restaurants. Maybe you’re even related to one!

They’re the topic for this week’s whine:

Uber-Parents

Here’s your chance to blow off steam.

To Shower or Not To Shower

By Solo Girl 

invitation - pixabayI have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall for big family holidays so we can all get together.  And now all those sisters and female cousins are newly married and reproducing.  Every time a baby shower comes up I’m invited, and I wrestle with myself over whether or not I should be able to go yet.

I’ve always been supportive and encouraging with my family, happy to celebrate in another’s happiness.  It’s been four many years since my dream died, and I get the sense that I’m expected to be “over it” by now.

Unsure and not wanting family to think I’m selfish or emotionally immature, I went to a cousin’s baby shower about a year ago.  I mentally prepared myself ahead of time.  For example, I’m terrified of flying, but I know that there is lift-off, food, a movie and a landing, and then it’s done.  I thought about how there would be food, presents and games at this shower, and then it would be done.  I thought to myself “I should be able do this, even my own Mom is expecting me to go.”

I thought the worst part would be the games, but I was wrong.  It was the chitchat.  I actually got stuck between my mother and a cousin having a conversation on the couch about how all the women in our family have long labors.  Seriously.  When I got home I wrote myself a note in black marker and stuck it on my kitchen pin board where it still remains today:  “You never have to go to another baby shower ever again.  No one will notice; no one will care.  It’s torturous.  Don’t Go.  Don’t feel guilty”.

But a year later I still get shower invites and I continue to question whether I am – or should be – ready to attend now.  And I want to know, is it ever going to be something I can attend?  And what can I tell my family that will help them understand how painful it is to attend without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself after all this time?  They have high expectations of me, and I really do think they mean well.  I was in a deep depression four years ago, and I think they are trying to make me normal again.  I think.

I’m glad Irina Vodar is producing a documentary on the subject of infertility that some helpful social norms will come of it.

How do you handle these situations?

Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada.  She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.

 

Whiny Wednesday: “Accidental” Pregnancies

Whiny_WednesdaySome time ago, Maybe Lady Liz wrote a brilliant guest post about friends posting pregnancy announcements on Facebook, only to add that they were “accidents.” I thought it would be a great topic for this week:

“Accidental” pregnancies

You can read Liz’s original post here. Just be advised if you decide to click through to her blog that it is no longer about not having children, as Liz is now a mom.

Ms. Cellophane

By Lisa Manterfield

Orate Mirror in the Corner of a RoomHave you ever been around people who behave as if you can’t possibly know anything about life because you don’t have children?

I’m sure that all of us have heard the old chestnuts, “You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids” or “I didn’t understand until I became a mother” (which implies the same thing) or even “Only a parent could know how this feels,” as if being childless strips away all capability of empathy.

And then there are those situations where you just feel invisible, when the conversation about children and parenting is swirling around you and no one even bothers to make eye contact with you because what could you possibly contribute?

These instances make me think of the wonderful “Mr. Cellophane” number from the musical “Chicago.”

And even without clucking like a hen,

Everyone gets noticed now and then,

Unless, of course, that person it should be,

Invisible, inconsequential me.

Personally, I’m done with feeling insignificant because I don’t have kids. It took me a long time to get to this point, but now I hold my ground in conversation. I contribute when I can and simply listen and nod when I can’t, just as I would if I found myself in a conversation on any other topic on which I’m not an expert.

I also keep a list of amazing childless women in case I ever need to remind myself that we don’t need to be parents to make a difference. On my personal list is Amelia Earhart, Dian Fossey, Julia Child, and Juliet Gordon Low, who started the Girl Scout movement. If you need your own role models, Jody Day has put together an outstanding collection on Pinterest.

You’d be hard-pressed to call any of these women insignificant. I remind myself of this when I find myself allowing others to make me feel like less than who I am.

So what do you do when you start to feel like a Ms. Cellophane? Do you feign boredom, try to hop in with an intelligent anecdote, change the subject, or do you slip away and hope no one notices you’ve left?