Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

If I Had to Go Through Infertility Again…

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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 do it 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?

It Got Me Thinking…About What To Do With All Those Keepsakes

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By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

A while back, Robin started a lively discussion on our site about “What do you do with hand-me-downs?” And it got me thinking…about the boxes of stuff in my basement (and the hall closet, and the dining room cabinet, and the office filing shelves…).

My mom, like many women of her generation, has begun downsizing. I regularly get emails from her with photos of china, silver, and other precious family heirlooms. “Do you want this?” she asks.

“Yes! Of course!” I want to say, but my enthusiasm is tempered as I allow myself to think about whether or not I’ll truly use it (I don’t have a lot of fine-dining opportunities) and what I’ll do with it when it’s my turn to pass them along.

On top of her treasures, I think about all the items I’ve saved, most of them truly price-less, such as the programs, cards, certificates, trophies, studio portraits, and snapshots. This doesn’t even include the motherlode of photos and documents on my computer. One day, I’d thought, I’ll share all of this with my children. Instead, my assembled keepsakes mock and taunt me as I now think, Some day, someone, possibly a stranger, will have to deal with this mess.

What will you do with your treasures, your family heirlooms, your precious hand-me-downs?

I hope you’ll join our discussion.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with being childfree.

Whiny Wednesday: Uber Parents

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They’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.

Childless and Invisible

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By Lisa Manterfield

Have 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?

Our Stories: Jen

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As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I wrote to thank Jen for sharing her story, I added one of the big things I’ve learned over the years is there are LWB women all over the world who have been suffering in silence and often shame. Then we read one of Our Stories and realize we’re not crazy, we’re not alone.

Jen understood completely. “I feel my story is taboo and isn’t talked about often,” she replied. “For years I looked for others who I could walk with in my journey,” she said. “A lot of times I don’t share what I am going through because people assume I can magically change my life for the better. I’ve heard ‘divorce and date, adopt, fool around,’ etc. I worked hard for a secure home, but just don’t feel it’s safe anymore.”

Finding LWB has helped her, and I am so grateful that we have this safe space where all our voices can be heard and supported.

Here’s Jen’s story. If you can relate to it, I hope you’ll offer her words of compassion and encouragement in the Comments.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Jen: Loving and mentoring my children. Listening when they need someone to care.

LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?

Jen: Circumstance. My husband cheated while we attempted. During and since then, he has said I’m physically the reason why I will never have children.

LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?

Jen: I work with teenagers during the school year, younger children during the summer. I have a gift working with kids, how to talk to them, listen to them, encourage them. All that, and I can’t have my own child.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Jen: Roller coaster of all the above. There are days when I’m at my best. Maybe it’s making my sister, her husband, and their toddler happy. Maybe it’s elementary school kids during the summer day camp saying they liked my choice in songs. Many teenagers at the high school where I work at call me their “campus mom”. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.

Then there are days when I’m told I am inadequate to have a child. Maybe it’s because of a wrong decision I made, or more often I’m told with disgust that I’m overweight (size 12–14) with a family history of diabetes.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Jen: A couple years ago I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be best (maybe closer to worse) for my child to have my husband as a father, and it was best to give away any baby items I had in the house. I had to give up or be brought further into depression.

LWB: Who is your personal chero (a heroine who happens to be childfree)? What about her inspires you?

Jen: A coworker of mine is childless due to cancer (now in remission). She believes in God and she knows her gift is to mentor kids. She has perfected listening to teenagers, and giving them advice and encouragement so they can make better decisions. These teenagers know they have someone who cares. [My coworker has helped me] realize I have that same gift with kids of different ages that I work with throughout the year. I remind them of their value and how important they are.

LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”

Jen: Politely say “No,” and if they ask why, come up with a reason appropriate for the audience. They mean well, so it isn’t right to take my frustration out on them.

 

How do you answer “Do you have kids?” Are you sarcastic or flippant? Does the word “No” tumble out with ease, or do you dissolve into a puddle of tears? Has your answer evolved? We’d love to hear about your journey, wherever you are on your path toward acceptance, 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 getting ready to tell her own story. The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

 

Whiny Wednesday: The Baby Shower

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This week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is that old chestnut:

The baby shower!

A reader wrote:

I would like to know how others handle baby showers. I have vowed to not go to any more baby showers after leaving the last one in tears and disappointed in myself because I felt so strong before I went. Do others have emotional issues about other people’s baby showers or am I alone?

After assuring her that she definitely was not alone in feeling this way, I thought I’d turn the topic over to you.

Please whine, rant, empathize, and even advise on this most delicate of topics.

It Got Me Thinking…About My Four-Legged “Kid”

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By Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

When I adopted my first dog, Beau, my girlfriends were convinced that he would be a man magnet. “Guys will come up to you at the beach and the park.” “Your dog is so cute! Guys will totally want to play with him.” “You have to take your dog running—hot guys will totally be attracted to you!”

Turns out Beau did indeed have a magnetic personality, but what he attracted were “guys”—and girls—in the 2 to 12 age group. “Oh my gawd! Your puppy is soooooo cute!” “Can I pet him? Does he bite?” (Fortunately, no…unless you’re a cat.) “Arf arf!” (That last one came from all the really little kids who tried to “talk” in dog language.)

In the early stages of accepting my childfreeness, such encounters could be painful. I’d think about how cute the kids were, how much I wished they were my own, and I’d lose myself in my loss. But over time, I began to cherish, even look forward to, these brief connections in what is otherwise a quiet daily life. In hindsight, I’ve thought about how they’ve helped me in the healing process. Trailing alongside as Beau served as neighborhood goodwill ambassador, I felt less isolated and more a part of my community. As he lapped up the hugs and cuddles, I got drawn into friendly conversations with strangers. Not “strangers,” just other humans seeking, like me, to give and receive a bit of affection.

Beau has since passed on to the dog park in the sky, or as dog lovers sometimes say, he’s crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. These days my walking companion is Louie, a rowdy, wicked-smart, completely devoted cattle dog-Corgi mix my husband and I adopted several years ago. (That’s Louie on the left and Beau on the right below.) He is not really my “kid”, he will never take the place of the children of my heart, but he is one of the great loves of my life, and I am so grateful for the joy he brings me.

I’ll bet many of you have also realized how much your four-legged companions have helped you through tough times. If you don’t have a pet, consider volunteering at a shelter to play with the animals, offer to walk a neighbor’s dog, or simply stop someone on the street and ask if you can pet his/her dog. If you are the lucky human of a beloved pet, I hope you’ll share a story in the comments of how s/he has brightened your world. We could all use a little extra dose of light and love today.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

Whiny Wednesday: Making Friends When You Don’t Have Kids

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This week’s Whiny Wednesday topic comes from a reader and is ripe for a rant and perhaps some ideas.

She writes:

“I still haven’t figured out how to make friends with people my own age (40s) who have children. I often feel disposable, or okay to invite to things when it suits them. I’m a thoughtful, caring person who deserves better.”

What do you think about this? It’s Whiny Wednesday, so let it all out.

It Got Me Thinking…About Making the “Choice” to Be Childless

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By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

A while back, I received an e-mail from an LWBer I’ll call “Kim” who was struggling to find her place in our community. She hadn’t been through infertility, nor had she made a conscious choice to not be a parent. Instead, she’d held out for Mr. Right and married a man she loved—who didn’t want children. It wasn’t exactly my story, but I could relate to much of it. I shared my response with Lisa, and she asked me to consider sharing it with other LWB readers.

If you see yourself in here, I hope you’ll find some encouragement, some support. I hope you’ll feel—maybe for the first time—that you are not alone.

Dear Kim,

I am so sorry to hear of your losses and sorrows. I get it! Our paths are similar.

First, congratulations on your recent marriage! I, too, held out for love, which meant I got married in my 40s. My husband was worth the wait.

Second, a bit of my own story: I went through a long process (mid-30s to early 40s) of exploring whether or not I could/wanted to have a child on my own, and ultimately decided it wasn’t something I could do. It still irks me when people accuse me of making the “choice” to be childfree, when I feel in my heart that this destiny was forced on me in so many ways. Like you, I wanted to be a mom and I would have been a great mom. So not fair!

By the time I met my husband-to-be, I was starting to come to terms with the facts that my age and health were not in my favor for bearing and raising children. Sure, I could have tried every medical miracle, but with what results? I couldn’t do it. When I knew we were at a defining point in our relationship, I sat my then-boyfriend down, ready to set him free if he wanted children, because I knew I couldn’t offer him any guarantees. It came as somewhat of a relief, then, when he told me he never wanted kids.

However…that doesn’t mean we don’t have moments of “What if…?”

You asked how other women in your—in our—shoes are “living with it.” I’m sitting here at my desk trying to think of the best answers to give you, the real answers. It’s not easy, Kim. There are days when I love my life just as it is, when I celebrate that one of the reasons my husband and I have such an amazing relationship is because we are not having to divide our energies and attentions to take care of children. We spend our weekends together, even if it’s just running errands or watching Law and Order reruns on TV. We aren’t driving in different directions to attend soccer and Little League games. We are the last couple on the dance floor at wedding receptions because our friends who are parents have gone home to relieve babysitters or because they’re exhausted from all their obligations. These are blessed days indeed.

And then…and then…Halloween comes around and I want to stay in bed and cry about all the joyful events I’ve missed and will miss. I have to talk myself into decorating for the Christmas holidays because there are no little ones to revel in the magic, no one with whom I can share precious traditions. I lied to a friend a few weeks ago, a friend I love, because I couldn’t bear to go to her baby shower. I will love her child, we will be part of her child’s life, but I just couldn’t sit in a room full of women who got what I so desperately wanted.

In between, I lean heavily upon the wisdom and experience of our sisters on LWB. Sometimes I can offer the words of encouragement and support; other times it’s me who needs to be picked up off the floor. I encourage you to spend some time familiarizing yourself with the resources on the site. Yes, many of the women are here because of infertility, but we can still learn from each other how to move through this and forward into new life paths.

Melanie Notkin of Savvy Auntie has coined the phrase “circumstantially infertile.” I personally hate the term, but it makes sense to me. She is childfree for the same reasons we are (and I believe she’s still single) and has turned her experience into being an auntie advocate. I encourage you to check out her site. From my own experience, I will add that being “the fun aunt” has its advantages.

I also have learned a lot from Jody Day’s book, Living the Life Unexpected (also available on Amazon). She has a site called Gateway Women. I know Jody (also circumstantially infertile) has groups around the world, so you might check if there’s one near you. If not, maybe you’re the woman to start one? There are also several forums online on the LWB site. Find a topic that speaks to you and jump in.

Finally, I want to remind you that healing takes time. Please be gentle with yourself, Kim.

With my best wishes,

Kathleen

 

Kathleen would love to hear and possibly share your story. You can reach her at kathleen@lifewithoutbaby.com, or visit the Our Stories page to download the questionnaire for the Our Stories column.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About The Pity Face

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By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I was in a really good place. That particular day, I had been feeling optimistic about my future, about my Plan B, about my life without babies. Then someone asked me “Do you have kids?”, and I said “No,” and I got The Pity Face.

You know what I’m talking about. That look that says, “Oh you poor, pathetic loser of a lesser human.” And it really pissed me off.

Certainly I want people to understand my pain and losses, and I want to feel supported, but not at the cost of condensation and humiliation. So when I received a note from LWBer Jane about the difference between sympathy and empathy, it struck a deep chord.

“I was surprised to read the real difference and found it helped me understand why I became isolated and distanced from friends and family,” she wrote. She shared with me this powerful article, “Sympathy and Empathy—Do You Know the Difference?” on Harley Therapy’s Counselling Blog.

The authors look at historical meanings as well as contemporary usage. I hope you’ll take the time to read it through. For now, I’ll summarize it with “empathy is empowering.”

Although intended to be compassionate, “sympathy too often comes in its lower form—thinly disguised as pity,” says the authors. “Empathy, on the other hand, involves trying with great sincerity to understand what the other person is going through.”

That sounds like what I want. I don’t yet know how to ask for it, or how to educate people on this (without coming across as a crazy woman), but what I can do is practice it. (There are tips in the article.) For there is a possible hidden gift for offering empathy, for really listening to another person who is going through a tough time, says the authors. “We…might even end up being in awe of their personal strength.”

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is telling the story about her journey in The Mother of All Dilemmas. As she shares her quest to become a single mother (and ultimately embraces a life without children), she explores why society still appears to base a woman’s worth on how many children she has. Watch for updates on the book’s release here at LifeWithoutBaby.com.

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