Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Ann B.

 

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Grieving is not a rational act, although I sense many of us try to treat it as such. “If I act ‘as if’…if I will myself to…today will be different!” And then we get hit with a fresh wave of loss and feel as though all of our sanity is washed away.

Ann B.* understands this all to well. Even though she and her husband made very reasoned choices about why they are childfree, she continues to be knocked down by the weight of her lost dreams and to feel ashamed of her sadness.

I get that. I think you do too.

Ann’s hopes for the new year may sound a lot like yours. If you’ve been in her shoes, I hope you’ll share some of your journey with her in the Comments. If you’re in her shoes today, I hope Ann’s words remind you that you are not alone.

I want to wish you all a Happy New Year!, but that doesn’t feel quite right. Instead, my wish for you is that this new year comes with healing moments of gratitude, grace, and peace.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Ann: I always wanted to be a mother. I work in elementary school education. I am surrounded by children in my personal and professional life. Most of all, I wanted to hold to my husband’s child in my arms. It was not to be.

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

Ann: Chance and choice. By chance: I have a medical condition, which, when well-controlled, does not interfere with my ability to live a full and happy life. By choice: I decided that the risk to my health (of pregnancy, which may exacerbate my condition), the risk to a fetus of birth defects (caused by medication I take for the condition), and the risk to my husband (of potentially caring for an unwell wife and a baby with special needs) was too great. We consulted many doctors and, ultimately, realized that having children was too risky.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Ann: I am in denial about the need to grieve the loss of motherhood. I feel ashamed of my sadness, which comes in waves. I don’t believe I deserve to grieve because this was my decision, and life does not owe me anything. I know that life is full of hard choices and varying circumstances. I choose to stay busy to keep the depth of sadness at bay.

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

Ann: It changes. I go through phases of mourning losses. For example, never experiencing pregnancy or childbirth, never naming a baby, never seeing my husband’s character strengths passed on, never feeling pride at a concert, and the lack of rituals/milestones that accompany children. Other times, I feel less significant, less loving, less generous, and less deserving than women who balance the demands of motherhood. I find myself apologizing and downplaying my life experiences in conversation with mothers.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Ann: I’ve learned that feelings are illogical and can’t be controlled by planning, research, or intellectual reasoning. It’s possible to feel guilt and shame about something that I still believe was the right and responsible decision. I’ve learned that feelings of loss will keep resurfacing until I am brave enough to face them and feel them.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?

Ann: “I have the humanity, compassion, and time to be your village. I have skills, experience, and knowledge to support your parenting journey. Don’t underestimate my capacity to love or serve your family. Please trust me and let me lighten your load.”

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

Ann: “No”. Sometimes, this is followed by an awkward beat of silence because I haven’t prepared a short, socially appropriate 10-word explanation. I don’t want to make others feel that they have caused offense. I know it is a form of small talk; it is a friendly, genuine inquiry. I want to honor their intentions and guide the conversation to a place that is comfortable for all. However, I’m not there yet. I feel pain every time I hear the question.

LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?

Ann: I would like to face my grief and stop denying the pain. I would like to use the grieving process to move towards healing.

 

*We allow each contributor to choose another name, if she wishes, to protect her privacy.

What are your hopes for yourself in this coming new year? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, 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 a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

 

It Got Me Thinking…About the Gift of Kindness

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

“So…why are you going?”

My sweet friend, let’s call her Ashley, had just told me about how much she was dreading Christmas. She and her husband are traveling halfway across the country to be with extended family, a family of loud, funny, sarcastic, in-your-face, mostly well-intentioned people who she knows will be needling her about why they don’t have kids yet.

“I can hear your clock ticking!”

“Your cousin got pregnant on her honeymoon—and you two have been married how long?”

“I swear I’m going to croak before this one gives me a grandchild!”

What they don’t know is that Ashley had another miscarriage last month. So she is going to suffer through all the questions and smart-ass comments in silence, with a half-smile on her face and a crack that is growing deeper in her heart.

But she is going because family gatherings are fewer and farther between as busy lives take over. And the older generations aren’t getting any younger, so she feels like she’s on borrowed time with them. And her favorite aunt was widowed earlier this year, and Ashley doesn’t want her to feel alone over the holidays. All valid reasons, but oh how my heart aches for her as I anticipate and imagine what she’s facing this coming week.

I asked her to put me on speed dial, so that if things get really rough, she can step outside or lock herself in the bathroom and call me for emotional support. Even though she and her husband are still trying, still hopeful (and I’m hopeful for them too), I sent her some classic LWB posts about dealing with social landmines and getting through the holidays when you’re childless-not-by-choice. I hope I helped her, and I hope I can continue to help her get through this season with some dignity and grace.

After our chat, I started thinking more about how no one in her family knows what she’s been going through. I know better than to encourage anyone to break a silence on something so emotionally devastating as multiple miscarriages, especially in a large and rowdy gathering, but her sharing her confidences made me think about the fact that all of us are dealing with things that aren’t fit for announcing to the general public—or sometimes to our immediate and extended family members.

So, while I’ll be dealing quietly with my own hurts, as I gather with loved ones over the holidays, I’ll be approaching them with a new awareness. I might give slightly longer hugs, I might reach across a room with a smile, I might keep an eye out for someone who is left out of the conversation or looks a little more isolated than usual. Whether or not they choose to give me their confidence, I can give them something: the gift of kindness, the gift of compassion. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get that gift in return.

 

 

Whiny Wednesday: Not Being Treated Like a “Real” Adult


This topic came up on the community forums a while ago and I thought it was a great topic to explore here on Whiny Wednesday.

Not being treated like a “real” adult because you’re not a parent.

I’ve certainly experienced this myself and talked to friends who say they’re still treated like a kid because they don’t have children of their own.

How about you?

Resetting Holiday Expectations

By Lisa Manterfield

“Are you the adult you dreamed of becoming?”

I laughed when I read this question on Facebook. No! Of course I’m not. The adult I dreamed of was an international engineering consultant, living in a large house with a circular driveway, with a fabulous husband and four beautiful children, including one set of twins.

Aside from the fabulous husband, that adult is almost the polar opposite of the adult I am now. I’m a writer, who works from my very small rented beach cottage, and of course, there are no children in my picture. And yet, once I stop to consider my friend’s question, I realize that I’m a lot happier as this adult than I would have been had my expectations been met. I’ve met the person I’d once dreamed of becoming; she wasn’t a very happy person and she definitely had more grey hairs than me.

Half the battle of coming-to-terms with a life without children is letting go of our expectations—and creating new ones. This is never more true than during the holiday season, one of the most difficult times of the year to be childless.

When I think of my expectations of what Christmas should be like as an adult, those four children are always there, gathered around the tree, gathered around the dinner table, and then gathered around me as the day comes to a close. Even when I realized that children wouldn’t be part of my life, I still strived to make Christmas live up to my expectations. Consequently, Christmastime was very sad time for a number of years. I knew there was no way my expectations could be met, and eventually I stopped making an effort to celebrate.

The worst year was when my husband and I found ourselves sitting at home, with no Christmas tree, no plans, no celebration, and we knew we’d allowed our lack of children to take over our lives. We also realized it was time to set new, more realistic expectations.

When I took a step back and looked at what I really wanted for Christmas, not on the surface of gifts, family, and decorations, but on a deeper emotional level, I discovered that my spiritual wish list included love, peacefulness, companionship, and a good dose of silly fun. I needed to explore new ways to get what I really wanted.

It took a couple of false starts to find a new way to celebrate Christmas, but a couple of years ago we nailed it. Mr. Fab and I rented an apartment for three days in a nearby beach town. We celebrated on Christmas Eve with a lovely dinner at an historic hotel with an enormous Christmas tree, roving carolers, and even an outdoor ice rink (in Southern California!). On Christmas Day, instead of sitting at home feeling sad about a pathetic Christmas for two, we went to the zoo, like a couple of big kids, and had a whale of a time. I even got to feed a rhino and have an ice cream. We both agreed it was the best Christmas we’ve had for a long time, plus there were no tantrums or mountains of dirty dishes to deal with.

It’s hard to let go of our expectations, especially when they’re often so deeply engrained, but if you’re struggling to find your holiday cheer this year, I encourage you to look beneath the obvious losses and examine what’s really missing for you. Even if you can’t meet your tangible expectations of what the holidays should be, you might be surprised to find you can satisfy your true needs in unconventional—and unexpected—ways.

Our Stories: Brandi

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I can always use a little bit of outside light as we head into the holidays and what for many of us who are childless-not-by-choice is a cold and dark season of the soul. Brandi gave me that light of hope when she shared her story with me. Forty years old and happily married for 16, Brandi endured over 10 years of the infertility nightmare. When her husband told her he couldn’t do it any more, she made the choice to build a new Plan B life with him, one that was childless.

 After “a long climb out of the pit of despair”, she is able to state (and here’s where she knocks my socks off): “I have accepted that I am a childless woman, but I do not identify as childfree.” Since her decision, she has filled her life with children, other people’s children, and has found what she calls the “bright side of infertility”.

Read her story below, then learn more about Brandi and her journey at her own website and blog, Not So Mommy.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Brandi: I always thought I’d be just a good ol’ fashioned mom, with two kids, a husband, a dog, and a cat, living in my traditional house.  Even as a little girl, I toted my Cabbage Patch Kid around in a carrier on my chest. I didn’t dream of my wedding day, but I did dream about having a husband and kids.

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

Brandi: I am childless by chance. (Actually, I usually say I am childless-not-by-choice.) My husband and I suffer from severe infertility. I have endometriosis, and after seven failed IUIs [intrauterine insemination fertility treatments] and 10 years TTC [trying to conceive], my husband decided he didn’t want to keep trying. So, at the end of 2013, I began trying to accept my childless life.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Brandi: I have accepted that I am a childless woman, but I do not identify as “childfree”. I have kids in my life (nieces, nephews, and an exchange daughter who has become family, plus our fur baby).

I started writing a blog, Not So Mommy, because I want to help others who are struggling in their childless journeys. I try very hard to focus on the good, so I write about the positive side of being infertile, childless, a dog mom, an aunt, a host mom, a wife, etc., and redefine what “momhood” means to me. When I was in the pit of despair and at my darkest moments, I never thought that I would come out of my infertility journey able to say that I am okay with being childless. But my life has turned out pretty well! I want others to know that there is hope, there is a light at the end of the struggle. I hope to continue to inspire others to embrace their authentic selves and live their imperfectly perfect lives.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Brandi: December 26, 2013. That was the day my husband told me he didn’t want to keep trying to have a baby, and he didn’t want to adopt either. He said he just wanted to enjoy our life like it was. Because I love my husband and could not imagine my life without him, I decided that I had to accept our childless life. So, I went into 2014 with the resolution to do just that. It was not an easy road, and I definitely had struggles (sometimes still do), but it was freeing to let go of one dream (having a baby) so that I could open myself up to other possibilities.

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

Brandi: The freedom to travel, the freedom to have spur-of-the-moment dates with my husband, the freedom to spoil our nieces and nephews because we don’t have to pay for college or braces or everyday expenses.

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

Brandi: I’ve always been honest about my infertility. I never hid it even when we were going through our struggle and treatments, so, when people ask, I tell them that we can’t have children. I go on to explain that we have nieces, nephews, a fur baby, and have hosted an exchange student who has become family. We usually end up talking about dogs or they ask about our hosting experience. I hope it allows people to realize there are different ways to have children besides getting pregnant or adopting.

LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?

Brandi: Allow yourself to be open to a different dream. My husband and I never considered hosting a foreign exchange student until we met a student and her host mom at a cooking class. Deciding to host a student turned out to be the BEST thing that ever happened in our life! God answered our prayers, but His answer looked different than we expected.

 

Won’t you share your story with us? The act of answering the questions itself can be very healing, plus we’d like to support you by telling you “You are not alone.” Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childlessness.

It Got Me Thinking…About Surviving Today’s Meltdown

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I really thought I was healed, or at least was very close. I had mostly released what I felt I’d been cheated out of and was actively embracing a Plan B. I felt like a trailblazer, a role model, a success story.

Oh, how the mighty fall.

It was late on a gloomy, wintry afternoon when I came across a photo on Facebook of a dear friend, her wonderful husband, and their two beautiful children decorating their Christmas tree together. Something I will never get to do. One look at that image of perfection—my idea of perfection—and I lost it.

We’re talking throwing-family-heirloom-ornaments-in-the-trash kind of lost it. All the anger, bitterness, hurt, shame, heartaches, sadness, unfairness, why-not-me-ness I thought I’d worked out of my system came down upon me like a devastating avalanche. It was epic. It was ugly.

Fortunately, I got talked back out of my hell-hole by an understanding husband and compassionate friend. The tossed ornaments were retrieved, my body was hugged, my spirit was soothed. (But, no, I was not able to bring myself to decorate my home for merriment I could not fake.)

Humbled, and more than a little embarrassed, I took a fresh look at myself and again was reminded that the whole grieving-to-healing journey is not as straightforward as traveling from A to B. It’s crooked, jagged, with obstacles, speed bumps, and small triumphs followed cruel “family” holidays. Recovery is a process.

My friends who have battled alcohol addiction know quite a bit about what it means to be in recovery, and I think we can benefit from their wisdom and experience. When the temptation to slide back down into the deep, dark holes of depression and despair grows strong, when our resolve is weakened, when recovery seems like too much work or unachievable, we can borrow some of their slogans and tell ourselves:

Keep it simple.

Easy does it.

First things first.

Just for today.

How important is it?

Keep an open mind.

Live and let live.

Let go and let God.

One day at a time.

I now keep these reminders on my desktop, within reach for when I need a boost or in case I feel a new meltdown coming on. Perhaps one of them will help you today.

 

During the holiday season, Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a little less at peace with her child-less status.

It Got Me Thinking…About My Very Own Holiday

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

If you’re in the U.S., you just got through or are in the midst of one of our biggest “family” holidays of the year. Feeling thankful? Yeah, me neither.

We’ve officially kicked off the holiday season—yes, a whole miserable season—that often feels like a series of slaps across the face for those of us who are childless-not-by-choice: the pageants with the impossibly adorable miniature angels, the onslaught of family photo cards and newsy letters, those awfully festive reunions that bring together multiple generations (and unwanted questions), the traditions we’ll never get to share, every little slight and hurt that reminds us of what we wanted and didn’t get to have. I’m all wrung out just from the anticipation!

But this year I have a plan for how I can get through the next several weeks with a bit of calm and brightness. In my schedule, between the shoulds and the musts, I am going to book out some time for myself. I am going to prepare now to welcome a most special guest into my home for the holidays: Me.

Think about it. If your dearest friend was coming to stay, how would you treat her? I might:

  • Fluff up the pillows on the bed and add a cozy throw blanket.
  • Arrange fresh flowers on the nightstand.
  • Pull out the “nice” towels, then pour out some of those fancy bath salts I’ve been saving for a long, soothing soak.
  • Place a couple of chocolates on her pillow at bedtime, and warm her PJs in the dryer just before she slips them on.
  • Serve her breakfast in bed—it can be as simple as tea and a muffin served on the special occasion china and presented on a tray.

How might you treat your most honored guest? Share your ideas in the Comments, then let’s commit to creating a true bit of holiday for ourselves.

 

If you’re struggling this holiday season, I encourage you to explore the Life Without Baby site for resources. Check out the Forums and Groups, reach out to others through Comments, or pick up some of the recommended Books. We may not be able to guarantee merriment, but we can offer compassion. 

 

A Little Thanksgiving Self Care

By Lisa Manterfield

It’s Thanksgiving here in the U.S. this week. For many of you, that’s going to mean spending a long day, perhaps a long weekend, with people who care about you, but perhaps don’t really understand what you’ve been through or what you’re going through still. It can make for a lot of unintentionally hurtful comments, strained emotions, and reignited grief.

The news this year has been unbearable too. Fires, hurricanes, mass shootings, and political shenanigans. I think it’s safe to say that most of us have been completely worn out by all that’s going on in the world.

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been hibernating from the news and social media, needing an information detox. As a result, I’m sleeping more restfully, spending more enjoyable time with Mr. Fab, and my brain is starting to function with clarity again. In sitting down to write this post, I also realize that I haven’t had any of the weird headaches I’ve been experiencing for the previous month or so.

I’m aware that this seems like I’m sticking my head in the sand, but I prefer to call it self-care, putting my own needs first for a while, so that I can regain enough mental strength to keep moving forward.

I also believe that self-care is one of the most important tools for making it through the upcoming holiday season, especially if your grief is still raw. But even if you’ve been making progress, the holidays can be a breeding ground for tactless comments, reminders of loss, and emotional triggers galore!

So, here are a few suggestions that have helped me navigate the holidays over the years:

Say no to difficult events. If you know a gathering will be problematic, make an excuse and don’t go. You may have some guilt about it, but that will pass, and you’ll end up much better off emotionally than if you go and end up upset. If you’re in the early stages of grief, take a year off from the holidays. Seriously. The holidays will be back next year, and they’ll get progressively easier to deal with.

Have an escape plan. If you do go to a gathering that might be difficult, have an escape plan. That might be as simple as borrowing the host’s dog and going for a long walk or volunteering to be the person to run to the store for last-minute ingredients. A little time alone is like a mini detox, so you can gather yourself together before facing people again.

Use this community. I promise you, you won’t be the only person looking for an understanding ear over the holidays. Use the community and connect with someone who know what you’re going through and can offer support and encouragement.

Plan some post-celebration self-care. Know in advance how you’ll take care of yourself after the event. Go home and take a long, quiet bath, or a long walk, or plan to do something with someone whose time you enjoy.  If you can, schedule a post-Thanksgiving detox day.

If you need more ideas for getting through the holidays, we have several resources available. There’s an entire chapter on navigating the holidays in both Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen and Life Without Baby Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges, and a book full of inspiration and tips in Life Without Baby Holiday Companion. Finally, here’s the link to the community forums, where you’ll already find several holiday and family-related threads going.

Please take advantage of these resources and this community and make sure you have a happy Thanksgiving. –x-

Whiny Wednesday: The Things I Can Never Talk About


We’ve all run up against people who don’t understand us or who simply don’t want to hear about “it” any longer. So this week’s Whiny Wednesday is your chance to talk about:

The Things I Can Never Talk About

You are being heard. -x-

Sharing Tips for Getting Through the Holidays

By Lisa Manterfield

Next week we celebrate Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and I am looking forward to it. A couple of years ago, Mr. Fab and I started a new tradition of spending the day with good friends. Mr. Fab is cooking a decidedly nontraditional Thanksgiving dinner, so all I’ll have to do, aside from a few sous chef duties, is show up and have a good time.

I know for many of you, Thanksgiving might not be such a fun time. Traditionally, it’s a holiday when families gather, which might mean facing insensitive relatives and prying questions about children. It also marks the beginning of what can often be the most difficult time of the year, with social gatherings, kid-oriented activities, and constant reminders of the many ways we don’t get to celebrate the holidays.

I love that this community includes new readers and seasoned pros, so let’s help one another out this year by sharing ideas on getting through the season with our hearts intact.

What are some of the issues you know you’ll face this holiday season? What events are you dreading? What’s going to be hardest for you?

And perhaps most important of all, how to do plan to get through the season with minimum emotional damage?