filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
I was hit hard with a bad cold last week. As I was lying in bed, sweating, groaning, and coughing, I thought what a relief it was that I didn’t have little kids to take care of while I felt so awful.
Except my husband got the same cold (only way worse, of course) so, in a way, I did.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What are you feeling sorry for yourself about today?
Mr. Fab and I are starting to make plans for the holidays. Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal for either of us, but Christmas is, especially for me. After years of attempting to recreate my happy childhood Christmases and ending up disappointed, I finally gave up last year. Instead, we went out of town, just the two of us. We celebrated on Christmas Eve with a nice quiet dinner at a fancy restaurant, and then spent Christmas Day at the zoo. Honestly, it was the best Christmas we’d had for many years, and we vowed to make it a new tradition.
It’s easy to say that our (geographically and emotionally) scattered families have been the cause of our previous holiday gloom. But I know that, if we had children, things would be different. We would stay home with our little family and Christmas would (I imagine) be much like the Christmases of my memories. But without children, we find it hard to get into the spirit of the season or to muster our holiday cheer. That changed when we recreated the holiday to suit the people we are, rather than the people we used to be or wished we were.
The holidays are probably the hardest time of year for those of us without children. And this was brought home to me with great clarity recently as I was going over some of the posts and comments from the past three years of this blog. Alongside Kathleen (who writes Friday’s It Got Me Thinking… column) I’ve been compiling and editing a collection of some of these posts about the holidays, as well as some of the ideas and tips that readers have shared with us. As I sifted through the posts, I was struck by some of the struggles so many of us have and some of the solutions we’ve come up with to make it through this difficult season. I was also touched to see how this community rallies around one another when things get tough. It’s as if we’ve created our own family of understanding and empathetic friends, when so often our own families don’t get it at all. It’s a wonderful thing to see.
The result of all this sifting and compiling will be available next week in the form of an ebook we’re calling the Life Without Baby Holiday Companion. Our hope is that it will be provide inspiration and comfort at your fingertips when the holiday season gets tough. It certainly did for us as we were putting it together.
The ebook will be available on this site next Tuesday, November19 and on Amazon the following week. I’ll post details as soon as it’s up.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s official: I’m obsessed. I cannot get enough of the news and photos and stories and updates and video clips of England’s Prince George. He’s so cute! And he could have been mine…in my fantasy world.
Men have their fantasy football leagues, I have my fantasy royal life; and the little prince’s birth has pushed my imagination into overdrive. I daydream about life as a princess. I scroll through images of famous tiaras and pick the ones I think will be the most flattering on me. (I’m thinking the Girls of Gt. Britain and Ireland Tiara would be suitable for around the house.) I picture myself in fascinators and fabulous designer suits for events (wasn’t Duchess Kate’s cream dress for the christening gorgeous?) and skinny jeans–chunky sweater–riding boots combos for when the paparazzi catches me pushing my own cart at the market. I imagine how I would love my royal babies, how they would adore me, and how the BBC, TIME magazine, and the San Francisco Chronicle would capture personal and iconic moments in my family’s life for posterity.
My dreams of being a mother crumbled in real life, and I know my butt won’t fit into skinny jeans. That’s reality. But deep in a secluded corner of my heart, where my fairytale lives on in my dreams, I still think about what might have been, and I think it might have ended happily ever after.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree.
Why is it that people have no problem asking, “So, why don’t you have kids,” or “How come you don’t like children?” or “Don’t you think not having kids is selfish?”
Could you imagine if mothers were asked the inverse? “So, why do you have kids?” “How come you like children?” or “Don’t you think having kids is selfish?” I wonder how many people would have an answer.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s your gripe this week?
When I first began this blog, my mission was to create a safe community for women who don’t have children, “whether by choice, chance, or circumstance.” My intention was to be inclusive, but in some ways, that definition only perpetuates the stereotypes that society puts on us: if you don’t have children you either couldn’t, made lifestyle choices and ran out of time, or chose not to bother.
In reality, it’s never so simple as that.
I am infertile. There is no question that my body wasn’t able to reproduce of its own accord and I am childless by circumstance, but that doesn’t mean that choice and chance didn’t have a hand in it too.
Having children was always my plan for as long as I can remember, but in my teens I chose not to have children by practicing the safe sex tactics that had been drilled into me by sex education programs, friends’ dire warnings, and startling stories in teen magazines—that and a healthy smattering of blind dumb chance.
In my early 20s I chose a career over motherhood; there was a great big world and a great big me to explore before I settled down into the role of mother.
In my early 30s I was ready, but chance worked against me by tempting me with a potential mate who turned out to not want kids. At the time, I didn’t have the means or the guts to do it alone.
Finally, in my mid-30s, I met Mr. Fab and set out to become a mother. But circumstance prevailed and I wasn’t meant to have a child easily or naturally. It wasn’t that I didn’t choose motherhood, more that motherhood didn’t choose me.
So, I had another choice to make. Given medical intervention, sufficient high-powered drugs, enough attempts, and sufficient money to do them all, motherhood might have been an option for me. Given enough time and emotional stamina, adoption might have worked out, too.
But I chose not to keep pursing fertility treatments; I chose not to hire someone to produce a baby for me; and most of all, I chose not to sacrifice my marriage for the sake of an endless quest for motherhood. I made a choice that was right for me, so does that mean I am childless-by-choice?
The problem with labels is that they’re one-size-fits-all. But when it comes to not having children, we really come in all shapes and sizes, don’t we?
What choices did you make on your journey? Do people make assumptions about why you don’t have children?
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Today in my corner of the world is All Saints’ Day. It’s not one of the so-called Hallmark holidays, or one of those we group into The Holiday Season, but it has its place. Different rituals are performed, depending upon your faith, and some of those rituals are based on ancient traditions that center around appeasing the “malevolent and restless spirits” of the recently departed. I mostly think of it as a day of remembrance, a day when I light a candle, cry a few tears, and offer up prayers of thanksgiving in memory of friends and family members.
In the past 10 months, we’ve lost some notable cheros (heros who happen to be childfree) including revered actor Richard Griffiths (perhaps most widely known as Harry Potter’s Uncle Vernon), Muriel Siebert (the first woman to buy a seat on the New York Stock Exchange), and Helen Thomas (a news correspondent who covered the White House from the Eisenhower to the Obama administrations). Closer to home, I lost a chero who had been part of my life for 20+ years (read my post about her here), and I’ve supported friends as they’ve grieved the passings of parents and siblings.
I think there’s more to this day, though, especially for those of us who are childfree not by choice. Some of us are grieving the heartbreaking losses brought on by failed IVF procedures and miscarriages. All of us our grieving the losses of long-held dreams. While I won’t try to sugarcoat our very real pain, I would like to suggest that today is a good day to start letting them go. I plan to light a candle, sit in prayer, and try to release some of the restless spirits that I’ve carried with me for so long. I don’t expect my world to change overnight, but I do hope to experience a little more acceptance and maybe even some grace.
I wish peace, acceptance, and grace for you too, dear sisters.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
With Halloween just around the corner, no doubt the festivities have begun around you.
If you’re not looking forward to the holiday this year, Whiny Wednesday is here just in time.
Feel free to gripe about your gremlins, and hex anyone who rubs you the wrong way this week.
This week it’s Halloween and I know it can a tough time for many of you.
There’s the threat of a constant parade of cute munchkins at your door, the inundation of kid photos on Facebook, and, of course, it marks the start of the holiday season, which is never an easy time if you don’t have children.
So, how are you handling it?
Do you turn out the lights and pretend you’re not home? Do you make alternative plans to be out of the house? Or are you ready to embrace the festivities, just in your own way?
I’m going to be out of town this year, so plan to go out to dinner with Mr. Fab and take Halloween as it comes, if it comes to me at all. If I were home, I’d possibly do the same, but have some treats on hand in case of early callers.
In the past, I’ve hidden with the lights off on those years I wasn’t ready to face it. I’ve also decked out the lawn, bought a cauldron of sweeties, and fully embraced other people’s children (although I’ll admit there was more of the former before I could muster the strength for the latter.)
So, what’s your plan this year? How do you feel about the holiday and what’s your strategy for getting through it?
A college friend just posted a photo of her son and his date all dressed up for the homecoming dance.
It got my attention because the “kids” weren’t much younger than my friend and her now-husband when I first met them, and, as the boy looks like his father, the photo reminded me of them and how flipping long it’s been since I was in school.
It also caused a pang of sadness for another experience I won’t get to have. I won’t get to send my teen off on his first date or take a photo of him and realize he’s a carbon copy of his dad.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, and today I’m feeling whiny about how unfair life can be.
My cat is my baby, and I have countless cell phone photos and cute stories to prove it.
I’m generally hesitant about talking about Felicity as my baby, as people usually look at me as if I’m insane. On more than one occasion, I’ve caught myself listening to someone talk about her child and then heard myself chip in with, “Oh, I get it. My cat…” and regaling her with a comparable pet parent tale.
So, I was very pleased to hear about a recent study that found that dogs become attached to their caregivers in the same way that human infants attach to theirs.
The researchers discovered that animals exhibit the “secure base effect,” which allows them to feel safe in an unfamiliar environment when the caregiver is present. In other words, just like children, dogs feel more comfortable exploring the world and interacting with strangers when their “parent” is around, and a dog will bond with its parent in the same way a child bonds to his or hers.
My experience has been that this behavior is also true of cats.
And while human children eventually grow out of this behavior, our pets don’t. Which means they’ll always be our babies.
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