Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Nieces and nephews

I have just booked my flight to go home to England to see my family. I am counting down the days. I am long overdue for some time off, but more than that, I want to see my nieces and nephews.

I’ve been writing on this blog lately about the role we can play in the lives of other people’s children and how valuable that can be for us and them. The problem is that I’ve lived away from my family for 20 years. I have a niece and a nephew already out in the workforce, three more in college and another three growing up way too fast. My circle of influence over them, or even my participation in their lives at all, feels so insignificant.

Now I don’t have children of my own, I wish that I could have played a bigger role in their lives. But that’s all water under the bridge, as they say, so all I can do now is make an effort to spend some time with them, which is exactly what I plan to do. Soon.

Who Will Inherit From You?

Have you thought about your plans for after you’re gone? Do you know who will inherit what from you? If you don’t have children who will automatically inherit, have you given consideration to where you’ll pass along your worldly goods?

I’ll admit that I don’t have a plan in place, mainly because a) I don’t have much to leave anyone, and b) I’m not planning on checking out anytime soon, but the thought does pop into my mind once in a while, and at some point, I’ll want to get something down on paper. My main concern is that my family possessions – photos, keepsakes, and a couple of bits of jewelry – stay in my family, which most likely means leaving them to my nieces and nephews.

I came across this article this week, about a Pasadena couple who left $8 million to their alma maters. The couple had no children and quietly amassed their fortune and lived very unassuming lives. Their neighbors spoke fondly of a kind and quiet couple who were an integral part of the community, but never showy. I read this article and thought, “that’s how I’d want to be.”

Contrast that with these two articles, the first about Elizabeth Taylor’s children allegedly at war over her $600 million estate, and the other about three brothers in South Africa battling over the fortune they will (or will not) inherit from their wealthy childless aunt.

I don’t expect to have millions for my relatives to battle over when I’m gone, but I would like to make sure that the people I care about have something to remember me by. I’d hate to think of my most treasured (if not monetarily valuable) possessions ending up on the shelves of Goodwill.

Getting Over Mother’s Day

On Monday, I had lunch with a friend. “We had so much fun yesterday,” she said. “We had the whole family over at my mom’s and we all brought food and ate way too much.”

“That’s great,” I said, understanding that “whole family” would mean siblings, their families, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. “What was the occasion?”

My friend stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Um, Mother’s Day?” she said.

“Oh right! Of course!”

Luckily, this is a friend who knows where my head is and also reads this blog, so knows about my breaking up with Mother’s Day. Well, apparently, I succeeded in not only breaking up with Mother’s Day, but getting over it and forgetting about it!! How fickle I am.

I’ll admit, that on Sunday morning, I unwittingly hopped on Facebook and very quickly hopped back off again! Way too many Mother’s Day posts for me and I thought why torture myself? I checked in on the blog comments and the forums to see what was going on there, but other than that, I didn’t give much thought to Mother’s Day at all.

What about you? How did you do this year?

Surviving

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the death of my father. 25 years have passed and I’ve grown from a teenage girl to a woman, but if I was sitting in a room with you, I still wouldn’t be able to tell you about my dad without my voice cracking.

Losing my dad was the single most significant thing that had ever happened to me. It changed the whole trajectory of my life and it colored everything I did for many, many years.

Then I found out I couldn’t have children.

In many ways that has trumped my father’s death. It has taken the title of Most Significant Event. It has changed the trajectory of my life in ways I could never have imagined, and it still colors everything that I do. But already I am able to tell you that I can’t have children, without my voice cracking. Because what losing my dad taught me is that life goes on and that I will survive. It does, and I will.

Last night I spoke about writing at the Wellness Community, a cancer support center near my home. I sat in a room with survivors, women whose Most Significant Event has given them an up-close view of their own mortality. Their diagnosis changed their lives and continues to color everything that they do. But they’re here, they’re talking (often with cracking voices), they’re telling their stories and they are surviving.

Life deals us blows; it’s the nature of the thing. But we go on and we survive. That’s what makes us human.

A Barren Island in a Sea of Babies

When I look around my group of friends, I find that there’s about a 50-50 split between those who have children and those who don’t. I think I’m lucky in that respect. But when I look at my family, I see a very different picture.

I was really shocked to discover that among my relatives back in the UK, I am the ONLY one of my generation who does not have children and, as a family, we are a pretty fertile bunch. I have one uncle who never married or had children, but all my other aunts and uncles (nine couples), every single one of my 21 cousins (including my brothers), and many (at least seven) of my cousins’ children all have children. The only one who doesn’t is me.

As I live a long way from my family, I’m rarely in one of those big family get-togethers that highlights my childlessness, but even from this distance, I feel odd. I can’t help but wonder why I was singled out for infertility. Clearly, it doesn’t run in my family!

There are benefits to my status, though—I am more accessible to my nieces and nephews, and I also have the flexibility to spend long periods of time with my mother, especially as she gets older, but I still feel sometimes like the oddball in my family.

When you look around at your extended family, are you the only one who doesn’t have children? Or are you surprised to find you’re not alone?

It Got Me Thinking…About Privacy

By Kathleen Guthrie

Earlier this week I wrote about inappropriate chitchat, and my heart breaks over the comments (several came offline). Readers shared some of the horrible, though possibly well-intentioned, things people have said to them that added salt to the already devastating wounds of infertility.

“When are you going to have kids?”

“So which one of you is the reason you can’t have children?”

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

We’ve all heard variations on this theme, and I don’t know if it ever gets easier to come up with an appropriate response. The bigger issue I think we haven’t yet discussed is when—if ever—to tell people, and who we should tell, versus our right to privacy.

How are you handling this? Did you break the news to a few key people, expecting them to spread the message down the line? Did you tell just close family and friends, hoping to gain their support? Did you include a paragraph in your annual holiday newsletter? Or have you kept it to yourself?

Speaking of privacy, if you’re uncomfortable openly posting your thoughts or concerns on the blog, there are members-only discussions going on in the forums. You’ll find comfort, compassion, empathy, and support here. I hope you’ll reach out. Meanwhile, consider yourself cyber-hugged.

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She believes “Life is what happens when you’ve made other plans.”

My New Family

I love the New Year. I’ve spent most of the past week taking long walks and thinking about what I want my life to be like this time next year. What do I want to learn, where do I want to be, what do I want to do? Then I’ve spent the past couple of days writing down some goals for the year and making a plan of action.

I have lots of career-related goals, but some of my personal goals include participating in a triathlon, learning some new skills (making cheese, learning a language, as examples), and taking a big trip with my husband. I also have a goal this year of celebrating all the holidays with my “family.”

As you may know, my blood relatives live on the other side of the world and my husband’s family is scattered in a non-geographical way, which leaves us with a family of two (plus the cat.) Although we spent the recent holidays very happily as a family of two, I’ll admit to missing time with family. So this year I’m going to make a family to celebrate the holidays with.

My plan is to build a new family of my own choice, made up of people I like who live close enough to actually see at the holidays. I realize that many of them will have families of their own to celebrate with, but those who don’t will be welcome at my celebrations this year. My first family celebration will be a Valentine’s dinner.

What about you? What are some of your goals and wishes for this year? And what does your image of family look like now?

Hey Advertisers, You Talkin’ To Me?

I was browsing a magazine this morning, drinking tea and eating some excellent toast with almond butter and blueberry jam, when an ad caught my eye. It might have been the two very handsome cats that first stopped my eye, but it was the words that really caught my attention.

“New and improved Blue cat food is cat-preferred and mom-preferred.”

Eh? Mom-preferred? What was that supposed to mean? I’ve become so accustomed to advertisers talking over the heads of non-moms that my first thought was that moms liked the food because the natural ingredients would do no harm to Little Johnny if he decided to help himself to the cat’s dinner. But reading on I realized that the advertisers were speaking to “moms and their furry family members” – i.e. pet moms.

This struck me as smart advertising. As a cat-mom (but not a human-mom) this ad spoke directly to me and I appreciated that. On taking a closer look I also realized that human-moms weren’t excluded either. Very smart advertising. Of course the cat-dads were excluded, but as the magazine is geared to women, I doubt there would be many complaints.

Did the ad cause me to run out and buy this brand of food? Well no. My furry family member is a cat after all, and I can’t just go around changing things on a whim, but I appreciated the advertisers thinking outside of the mommy box and including those of us with only furry family members. Maybe they’re starting to realize that just because you’re a woman of a particular age, doesn’t automatically mean you’re a mom.

Thanksgiving Safe Zone

Your cousin announces that baby number 8 is on the way. Your Great Aunt Tillie asks when you are going to have kids. Your mother gives you a pointed look when she mentions how lucky her friend Gladys is to have so many grandchildren.

Wanna get away?

In lieu of yesterday’s Whiny Wednesday, I’m offering the Thanksgiving Safe Zone today. If it all gets too much, just come on over and let it all out here.

Someone will be around to hear you, I promise.

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a funny holiday in our house. As I didn’t grow up here, the holiday doesn’t hold any special meaning to me (even though I love the traditional turkey dinner), plus my family members are on the other side of the world and don’t celebrate it anyway. My husband’s family is close by, but his kids always go to their mother’s house and his sister and dad aren’t really the kind to sit around the big family table and celebrate together.

Usually Jose and I head out of town, but this year we didn’t quite pull our plans together in time, so we’re just going to stay home. I’m perfectly ok with these plans as we could use a few quiet days to ourselves, but somewhere inside me is an ember of an idea about how the holiday should be.

In my dream I have a long oak table laden with good food that I’ve spent the past few days creating. Around the table are all my favorite adults, talking, having intelligent conversations, and periodically glancing my way to rave about the food. When I think about a big family holiday, I think about my friends. They are the family I’ve chosen and I am thankful to have them in my life.

So I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving, including our far-flung readers who might be reading this and wondering what the ruckus is all about. I also know that the holidays can be trying for we childless and childfree peeps, so I’m moving Whiny Wednesday to tomorrow, just in case it all gets out of control.

Be well and Happy Thanksgiving to you.