filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Graduation 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.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Serious back problems (including surgeries and a year spent in a body cast) in her youth caused Justine to never be able to carry a pregnancy, so she didn’t think much about becoming a mother. Then the gestational surrogacy option became a media darling, and she started to think about new possibilities for creating a family. Justine and her husband endured two rounds of IVF, two transfers, and the loss of three potential babies. She’s 34 now. They have stopped all treatments, know that adoption is not an option, and are actively working to accept a childfree life together. Here’s some of her story.
LWB: What’s the hardest part about not having children?
Justine: Always fighting this feeling of not belonging. In every sense of the traditional woman my age, I will not belong because I am not a mother. However, I have learned that I will always belong, even when I do not feel I fit in, because that is my right and worthiness.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
Justine: That I will always be a mother. I mother and parent my dogs. I mother and parent my clients as a therapist. I mother and parent all the children in my life. I just mother and parent in a different way, and in a lot of ways, I have a bigger audience than I would have if I’d had my own children. I also get to have different—not necessarily better, but just different—relationships with all of the children in my life because I am not their actual parent.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Justine: I’m a lot stronger and braver than I thought I was, especially in owning my story with courage.
LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, teachers, strangers) to know about your being childfree?
Justine: I think a lot of times we are considered to be sad and bitter women, or people feel major pity for us. I think after we do our work of recovering from struggles we can actually have better and happier lives. It took major work to get to this side. My sad and bitter moments are few and far between, but I have to stay on top of my recovery.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Justine: I hit people with the truth and take the teaching moment. I usually say something to the effect that we tried to have our own children but can’t. I might say that we are learning to accept a childfree life, but we have a lot of children in our lives through our friends and family.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Justine: Continue my recovery, especially getting stronger in it. I will continue to work on my blog, Ever Upward [see below]. I hope that it can reach more and more women and continue to open up the conversation to the other side of infertility.
On Ever Upward, Justine shares more of her story and addresses how we can “really own” our own stories. Learn more about Justine—and about her upcoming book—here.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your opportunity to rant on a theme.
This week’s topic is:
Caring for elders and wondering, “Who’s going to do this for me?”
Feel free to add your own whines, too.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
After a first marriage to a man who was “never stable enough for us to have kids,” Kay* met her current husband when she was almost 42. They got busy trying to create their family, but three pregnancies were lost early, and adoption didn’t work (they weren’t against it, but the reasons it didn’t work were “complicated”). Now 52, Kay still struggles with being childfree by chance and circumstance. After reading her story below, I hope you’ll take a moment to offer her some encouragement in the Comments.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Kay: Oh, the Waltons. I wanted a big family with lots of children, maybe with foster kids as well.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Kay: My parents didn’t have a clue how to show love and fought a lot, and we children felt truly unloved and unwanted. From a very young age, all I wanted in life was to be a mama. That I will never have that is crushing. We are not close to any of our nieces and nephews. We have tried, but we live too far away from them to be very involved.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Kay: I don’t have to discover that I am just like my parents in parenting, in spite of my best intentions.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Kay: I really, really struggle with this because I so want/wanted to be a mama, and I want to relate to other people. Trying to explain, however, becomes complicated. I frequently get, “You could always just adopt,” which is a more complicated conversation. I’ve found it best to just answer, “No.”
LWB: What’s your Plan B?
Kay: I still very much want children in my life, and it doesn’t matter to me now that they won’t be my own. We unofficially mentored a family for a while. We called them our “Rent-a-Kids” and they liked that. But they moved away, so now I’m looking for something similar. I would like to find a way to connect “aged out” foster kids with people who would be family for them, to give them someone to care about them and a place to go for holidays and other momentous occasions. I don’t quite know how to get this started, but I’ve recently come across a couple of possibilities.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Kay: I still struggle with hearing pregnancy announcements, and frequently give a big sigh when I read stuff on Facebook about friends’ kids/grandkids or their parenting stuff. Early on I told myself, “This is not how your life will turn out. You will not have this.” It was an attempt to work for acceptance, but I eventually gave it up as it was turning into a self-pitying whine instead of acceptance. Sometimes I’m angry, more often I’m wistful. I frequently quote Agatha Christie: “Life is badly arranged.”
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Gwen*, now 44, has endured a rough journey of loss and infertility treatments, but she still hopes for a miracle. Like many of us, she dances around the pros and cons of being childfree as she considers what her Plan B might look like. Do you see yourself in her story? If so, take a moment to reach out to her in the Comments.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Gwen: I told myself that if it didn’t happen by 36 I would not pursue it. It wasn’t until I was 39 and reconnected with an old flame—who I eventually married—that I wanted to try for a family. My husband had been a victim of parental alienation for over a decade, has had no connection with his own children for over eight years, and it was very important for me to be able give him a child we could raise together in a very loving family.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Gwen: It was by choice until the age of 39. Then, after three years of trying and having over a dozen conceptions/zero pregnancies/one early miscarriage, I sought infertility treatment. Two failed IVF (in vitro fertilization) cycles into two failed IUI (intrauterine insemination) converts; the doctors could do nothing for me. We can’t afford and are not morally on board with egg donorship. We are too old to adopt a young child, and I do not to want to put myself or my husband through the grueling process of rejection through adoption.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now? (For example: still in denial, angry, hoping for a miracle, depressed, crawling toward acceptance, embracing Plan B, all of the above.)
Gwen: All of the above. I still hope every month, still time intercourse for a possible miracle while fully knowing the eggs are bad and the outcome will most likely never change. Just this month we had a conception that failed. I now joke that my uterus is made of Teflon.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Gwen: Feeling like a social outcast. I just cannot get past that one. I’ve never followed the status quo my entire life, was a “late bloomer” with all things social growing up, and became a statistic as a child of divorce and divorced twice over myself. So giving up the battle and becoming yet another statistic is the hardest part for me. “Everyone else can have a child, why not me?” is what goes through my head every day.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Gwen: Not having to dedicate the next 18 years to being responsible for another human being. I can continue to “do my thing”, come and go as I please, work on my crafts whenever I want, enjoy life on my terms, and not lie in wait for what my offspring needs right now. Oh, and being able to get a full night’s sleep every night. That’s a biggie.
LWB: What’s your Plan B?
Gwen: As I am just coming to terms with being childfree forever, I guess it is wait and see. After three years of marriage we could apply to be a licensed foster home and hope to find an older child who will fit into our life. But that is another year waiting, and my thoughts on adoption might change by then. I’ll leave that in God’s hands.
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
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?
I love children again. I find myself cooing at babies, talking to little kids in restaurants, and enjoying interacting with other people’s children. Hurray! I’m back!
It wasn’t always this way. When it first became apparent that children weren’t going to be in my future, I went through a period of not liking other people’s children at all. I didn’t appreciate the joy of children—in fact the sound of children’s laughter didn’t make me smile; it about ripped my heart out. I didn’t want to interact with children and so I made a point of avoiding places where children congregate.
The trouble was, I didn’t like the me that didn’t like children. She wasn’t who I was. She was grouchy and bitter, the kind of woman who gives childless women a bad name! But I couldn’t help myself.
Now that I’m back, I realize my anti-kid-ness was a defense mechanism, my psyche’s way of protecting me while I got on with my healing process. Children reminded me of what I didn’t have, and it hurt to be around them. So I stayed away.
During this whole process of coming-to-terms with my infertility, I’ll admit to many unpleasant emotions and thoughts I wouldn’t want to share with anyone. But that doesn’t make me bitter, it doesn’t make me dark, and it doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. It’s just part of the process of protecting ourselves until the hurt starts to subside.
Have you noticed changes in yourself as time passes? If your old self was lost for a while, have you seen glimpses of her return?
The Life Without Baby Holiday Companion is out tomorrow. In case you can’t wait, you can pre-order yours here.
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 2/19/13
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“I have to spend all day Saturday at soccer games. Gag!”
“I hate wasting weekends at my kid’s swim meets.”
“Wanna trade places with me?”
I’ve heard every variation of the above from friends who for whatever reason think it’s okay to complain to me about the “burdens” of being a parent. My responses have ranged from “Sounds like fun to me!” to “Dogs are so the way to go.” to “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
I don’t use that last one very often because it pretty much shuts down the conversation, but when I do, I hope it makes them think. It’s bad enough that this person is complaining about something s/he had to know about before signing up for the whole parental gig, and don’t even get me started if this ding-dong complains in front of their sweet child. Most of all, I wish they’d think for a moment about their chosen audience: childfree-not-by-choice woman who loves kids.
I loved playing sports as a kid, I was thrilled when my parents were on the sidelines cheering me on, I have great memories of those years, and I looked forward to the day when I could create similar memories with children of my own. Girl Scout leader, Team Mom, 3rd base coach—I woulda been all over it!
Maybe I don’t understand because I’m not a busy mom, but I do understand how much it hurts to be on the receiving end of a busy mom’s thoughtless complaints.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s a little hard to see in the photo included in today’s post, but I have a mustache drawn on my finger with a black Magic Marker Pen. I’m posing with a cluster of my nieces and nephews as we all show off our “finger mustaches.” There were eight adults at this party, and six kids under the age of 12, but I was the only grown-up to participate because…I am the Fun Aunt.
Back when becoming a single mom looked like my last option for parenthood, I thought hard about what I would gain and what I would sacrifice. Physical affection, membership in the Mommy Club, social acceptance all landed on my pros list. Financial struggles, sleep deprivation, losing ground in my career made the cons. A random conversation with a close friend reminded me of something else I hadn’t yet considered. Joe and Jane* had been married for several years and were discussing the possibility of starting a family. My conversation with Joe went something like this:
Joe: The thing is, I really don’t want children.
Me: Seriously? Why not?
Joe: Well…I like our life, I like our marriage. And I really like that I am still the “fun uncle” with all of our nieces and nephews.
Me: Can’t you still be fun when you have kids of your own?
Joe: Not really. Think about it. You have to be responsible, a disciplinarian. My brothers and their wives are always too tired to play, too stressed out. But I get to roll around on the floor and wrestle. Jane and I get to be silly and funny, we play games with the kids while the other adults sit around and gripe about how burned out they are. I love the relationships I have with all the kids. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to let them get away with cr*p, but I’m more part of their group of friends than like another strict and boring parent.
I thought about this a lot during my own journey to embracing being childfree, and it really resonated. Although at one time I’d desperately wanted children of my own, I also loved my role as the fun aunt. I still do. You can see that in the photo, a snapshot reminiscent of many such family occasions in which I get to be goofy, silly, playful, kid-like.
Coming to terms with our childfree status, no matter the cause, can be horribly painful. As you progress in your healing, I encourage you to embrace the fact that you get to take on this role in the lives of your nieces and nephews, or with the children of your friends. If you need help getting started, visit the Savvy Auntie site. Founder Melanie Notkin has made an art form of great auntie-ing, and the site has tips, ideas, and support.
There were times when I wondered if just being The World’s Greatest Aunt would be enough for me, and I still don’t have the final answer. But I can tell you that I am in a place in my life in which I am enjoying my role immensely and am grateful for it.
*Not their real names.
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.
Note: 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.
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
