Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Infertility’s Golden Little Secret

andrew-head-22-2By The One Hand Man 

This may turn out to be a contentious post, and I know it doesn’t apply to everyone, but I have said before that from adversity, comes strength.

I mentioned to a friend the other day about infertility and IVF stripping you down to your very core. It is an energy sapping process, and has a bearing on your soul, that nothing can prepare you for.

So how do we negotiate our way through the mire that is IVF, and come out the other side stronger than before?

Ask your partner

My wife and I have a very open and communicative relationship – this was the bridge stone in not only maintaining our sanity, but improving ourselves as well, during the IVF process.

There were times when my heart wept for my wife, and my brain mustered nothing in terms of words of consolation, but I knew that what she was going through was a dark period in her life, and my feelings, at times, had to be put to one side.

However, I knew it would be remiss of me to ignore my feelings completely, and indeed my wife did an excellent job of allowing me to feel without the pressure of having to talk.

Her subtle and gentle encouragement was enough for me to talk, as and when I needed to, and not just when she needed to. Even more remarkable given that her body was ravaged by hormones.

Rebuild

IVF and infertility knocked us sideways, and only on reflection have we realised how emotionally, and psychologically draining it was.

Having said that, we stated at the outset, that we needed to stick together, to form an alliance against infertility, if we were going to see the other side – and we managed just that.

IVF broke us down, but time, and commitment to each other, helped with the rebuild. What I didn’t expect though, is that what we built back up was stronger than before.

From the beginning our marriage had to be protected to combat the test we were putting it through. Only in this way would we emotionally be in a place to provide a good enough parenthood to a future child. Infertility and IVF had been shared between my wife and me, and we stood firm. That experience added layers to our relationship that allowed us to stand even firmer, with our heads high.

Infertility beat us, but we were not beaten. Like I said… from adversity comes strength.

The One Hand Man: Married in 07, sperm test in 08, IVF in 09, another sperm test in 10, adoption started in 11 – still going through the adoption process. Not had any recent sperm tests. Read more at: www.theonehandman.co.uk

New “Finding Peace” Mentorship Program Starts May 21st

Japanese Tearoom 2A new session of the “Finding Peace” Mentorship Program begins May 21st. This is the third session of this program and past participants have found incredible support through working with an intimate group of peers and having a safe space to discuss issues that most of our friends and family can’t even begin to understand.

Registration is open now and you can take advantage of early bird pricing by signing up by next Friday, May 17th.

Over the eight weeks of the program, you will:

  • Acknowledge your loss and learn techniques to deal with grief
  • Create ways to work through, not avoid, emotions
  • Gain tools to deal with issues of family, friends, coworkers, and even strangers
  • Find a way to move through this difficult transition and into a new and fulfilling life, even it’s one that doesn’t include children
  • Meet other women who understand you and get ongoing support from a sympathetic group of peers in a safe and protected environment
  • Be guided by a compassionate mentor who’s already walked plenty of miles in your shoes and speaks your language (that’s me!)

You might be surprised to learn that we even find room for laughter in these workshop and support sessions. It’s one of the many perks of sharing even the most difficult experience with people who’ve been there, too.

You can find all the details and registration information here.

It Got Me Thinking…About Nurturers

Girl ThinkingNote: This post originally ran on May 8, 2012 

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I can bitch with the best about how much I loathe the holiday that’s coming up this Sunday. I’ve spent past years avoiding church, restaurants, flower shops, TV ads, and, well, people who brightly wished me “HAPPY (you-know-who’s) DAY!” It was easier to hibernate than face painful reminders of what I am not.

But this year is different. This year I am embracing the second Sunday in May because a wise friend has transformed it for me. This year I am pulling out all the stops and celebrating because I am…drumroll, please…a Nurturer!

Here’s the message my friend sent out last May, and it is my message to you.

To the nurturers in us all: For helping friends in need, for compassion for strangers in pain, for helping children to learn, and for being good stewards of our world…Happy Nurturer’s Day!

If you are an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a coach, or a listener. If you’ve comforted another person, if you’ve offered support or encouragement, or if you’ve shared a hug. If you’ve read something on this site and responded with kind words or sent up a prayer for a sister in need. If you’ve been any or all of these things, then it’s time you acknowledge yourself.

You’ve been there for me, in our forums, in your comments, in your presence here with us on this site. For that I say, Thank you! and Happy Nurturer’s Day!

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s mostly at peace with her decision to be childfree.

 

Mother’s Day

heart-pixabayNext Sunday is Mother’s Day, the day that used to be all about showing appreciation to one’s own mother, but which has now become a giant mom-fest, celebrating the glory of motherhood for all mothers, and everyone’s supposed to get on board.

Well, not me. And not because I’m a bitter, jaded, non-mom, either!

Even before I had any clue that I would never become a much-lauded mother, I thought this universal celebration of motherhood was odd, kind of like celebrating a loved one’s birthday by saying “Happy Birthday!” to every stranger on the street. Surely the point of Mother’s Day was to acknowledge my mum, thank her for being a good mother, and treat her to something she’d appreciate? (Such as three bags of compost, delivered to her back garden, which is what she prefers over flowers that eventually die; she’s such the pragmatist.)

During the “infertility years” Mother’s Day was a nightmare. It felt like, for an entire month, the world was making a point of highlighting what I didn’t have, who I wasn’t, and what I would never be. When people wished me a happy Mother’s Day I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d just stare at them open mouthed, while in my head I was thinking, “Happy? What’s to be happy about? You have no idea the hurt and sadness you’ve inadvertently caused me and I have no way to make you understand.”

I think the low point of that period had to be the year Mr. Fab and I unwittingly tumbled out of bed and shuffled around the corner for breakfast at our local cafe. The servers were handing out roses to all the mothers there. When our server asked me if we had children, I shook my head. “Oh,” she said, and walked away with my rose. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so utterly desolate and ostracized in my life. After that episode, we made a point of only eating at home on Mother’s Day.

I know I’m lucky that I get to avoid all the hoopla because my mother and siblings live in a country that celebrates in a different month. I also know that many of you will be forced to go out to family events and celebrations, and put on a big smile, because the day is “about mom, not about you.”

If you need a little moral support and a plan of action to face next Sunday, please take a look at the Dealing With Social Landmines eBook. You’ll see it there on the right-hand sidebar or you can download it here.

If you’re struggling with moving on, or if you feel the need to commune with other non-moms this week, please join me tomorrow for a free video workshop, Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood. I’ll be tackling the subject of knowing when to let go, and taking the first steps. You’ll also have the opportunity to chat with me, ask questions, and meet fellow blog readers. Even if you can’t make it live, the workshop recording will be sent out the following day so you can watch on your own time.

For now, I wish you strength this week and hope you’ll make certain to be good to yourself, too.

It Got Me Thinking…About Beloved Teachers

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Tuesday, May 7, is National Teacher’s Day in the United States. Ever since the tragic shooting at the Sandy Hook Elementary School last December 12, I have been thinking a lot about teachers and all that they give to their students, from a listening ear to loving discipline to school supplies purchased with their own meager earnings. Virginia Leigh Soto was one of the teachers who gave her life at Sandy Hook. She was shot as she used her body as a shield to try to protect several of her first grade students. (Here’s a lovely article from CNN that recognizes all of the heroes on that sad day.)

In one of the many news stories that followed the shooting, I heard someone describe one of the teachers as childfree but “she treated all of her students as if they were her own children.” They might have been describing Ms. Soto. She was only 27 at the time of her death, so perhaps she would have had children of her own one day, but I would argue that her love for her students was independent of any parenting experience. That’s my experience of most teachers, and it is evidence that flies in the face of the old “you wouldn’t understand unless you’re a parent” accusation we all have heard.

As I thought back to the beloved teachers of my youth, I wasn’t surprised to realize that almost all of them were parents or would go on to become parents. Except for one: Mr. K. Both he and his wife were teachers; he taught English Composition to high schoolers and she taught elementary students in the inner city. Perhaps they couldn’t have children of their own. Perhaps they looked at their combined incomes and decided raising children wasn’t in their budget. Perhaps they both loved their work so much that they wanted to dedicate all their creative energy to raising good students. I’ll never know the answer, but I do know that they were both were respected and adored by their students.

Mr. K was the first teacher who truly saw me and my potential. “You’re a good writer,” he said to me on that fateful day, “but you have some work to do.” Previous English teachers had strongly discouraged me, to the point that I had given up and was just hoping to pass the required courses. With Mr. K’s encouragement and guidance, I worked my tail off to learn and improve. I am a professional, published writer today because of the seeds he planted and nourished.

Fortunately I had an opportunity to thank Mr. K before he passed away 20-some years ago, and I like to think his spirit has celebrated my successes. Next Tuesday I’ll be looking around at the other teachers in my circle—both parents and cheros (heroes who happen to be childfree)—and thinking about how I might acknowledge them. “Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for your passion. Thank you for loving the students in your care as though they were your own children.”

I invite you to join me in this little campaign of thankfulness for the teachers of the world. And, if you are a teacher yourself, I have a message for you: I appreciate you and all that you do.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

To Shower or Not To Shower

invitation - pixabayBy Solo Girl 

I have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall on Boxing Day 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.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Hug Deprivation

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

I had a great life. I’d started and was running a successful business. I had a tribe of smart, funny, and supportive women friends. I was healthy and fit. Furthermore, I was coming to terms with the possibility that I would remain single and childfree, and I was becoming more confident that I could create a fulfilling life for myself, by myself. I had everything I needed and I was happy.

Until.

During an extraordinary two-week period, I took care of my 15-month-old nephew, Jake, while his parents traveled. We danced, we laughed. He threw tantrums, I stressed about keeping the house together and keeping him from getting hurt. Everything was somewhat under control. Then one night, while I was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, he came up behind me, threw his arms around my leg in a tight hug, kissed the back of my calf, then toddled back to the living room.

“Thanks, Jake!” I managed to get out before tears locked up my voice. A current of love surged from my leg and throughout my body as I sobbed into the soapy water. I was struck by the realization of how touch deprived I had been for so long. Sure, friends greeted each other with a light hug and peck on the cheek. It wasn’t even the passion of a romantic relationship that I longed for. It was the daily human interaction, the hugs and kisses, the gentle caresses, the genuine affection, the skin-to-skin contact, something moms get (and have even been heard to complain about).

At that time in my life, I had none of that in my home. What made me a bit scared was that I hadn’t even noticed. It had become my “normal” and I hadn’t thought anything of it until Jake reawakened the need in me.

When I got back home, I brainstormed how I might create more physical affection in my life. I ruled out engaging in one-night stands and, well, hiring male escorts, both of which lacked the “genuine” aspect I needed. I thought about scheduling more frequent massages. I lavished my dog with belly rubs, which helped some. Was it enough? Would it be enough?

The one answer that made sense to me was that in order to receive, I needed to give. I could visit elderly residents of retirement homes, providing them with conversation, attention, and gentle touches. I could become more huggie with my friends, especially my single friends. I could offer to babysit, giving my mom-friends breaks they needed and getting some cuddling time with the children who inhabit my circles.

Are you aware of this need in yourself? If you’ve come up with creative solutions, please share them with us in a comment. Meanwhile (and I know this is just a tidbit), please consider yourself cyber-hugged.

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.

 

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayWelcome to Whiny Wednesday!

If you’re new here, this is the day you get to whine, groan, and complain about whatever’s on your mind, on or off topic.

Another baby announcement in the family? Whine. We get it.

Working late again because you’re the only one who doesn’t have kids so everyone thinks you have no place important to be? Let it all out here.

Neighbor got his leaf blower on a 7:00 on a Sunday morning…again? Ok, well, that’s my whine.

The great thing about this party is you get to bring your own whine.