filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
By Lisa Manterfield
As I continue on my own journey of healing, I find it hard sometimes to write about the issues that used to cause me such discomfort. It’s amazing how the human brain can dull past pain. So I appreciate when readers contact me with ideas for topics they’d like to see discussed.
Recently, one reader sent me this question about envy within families:
“I see a lot of people post about the joy of having nieces and nephews. Well, my brother’s wife is pregnant and I’m feeling completely pushed of out the picture. It may be because I reacted with shock and sadness over their first pregnancy. But I did write a lengthy, heartfelt apology and when that resulted in a miscarriage, my husband and I were the first to make it to the hospital and we stayed 11 hours with them. Now, my sister-in-law is being really removed from me.
I really want to have the connection with my niece or nephew, but I’m afraid I won’t. And honestly, I’m envious.
I wonder if others have similar experiences?”
A new baby in the family is a really difficult situation to navigate. There’s such a mixed bag of emotions involved. You’re trying to deal with your own grief, while also feeling alone because others don’t understand what you’re going through. Then a cause for celebration gets thrown in on top of that and, as much as you know you’re supposed to be happy for the new parents, all you can feel is resentment and envy that it’s not you. So, guilt and shame for being a bad sport get piled on top of that.
I also know that other people don’t know how to handle us when they have good news. I recall a friend being extremely uncomfortable about telling me she was pregnant. She dealt with it by sitting down, explaining that she knew this was difficult for me, and asking me how much or how little I wanted to know or be involved. I really appreciated her being open and it allowed me to be honest with her about how I felt. I’ve also had the experience of a friend saying, “Guess what?!” and then launching into every detail of how she found out and how it feels to be pregnant, while I sat and squirmed. Often people don’t know what to say or how best to handle us “volatile” folks, so they pull away and say nothing.
How about you? Have you experienced envy over new babies in the family? How have you dealt with it? Have you had a good experience with a friend or family member handling their news with aplomb?
November is the month for Bonfire Night in the U.K. As a child, it was one of my favorite nights of the year, second only to Christmas Eve.
We’d have a bonfire in the backyard, and my dad would bring home a box of fireworks to set off and a couple of packets of sparklers. We’d have baked potatoes and roast chestnuts, and my mum would make parkin and gooey, delicious bonfire toffee. It was an evening spent outdoors, clustered around the fire. It was about friends and food and a little bit of danger.
It’s one of the many things I miss about my homeland, and it’s one of the traditions I would have enjoyed sharing with my children. And that’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Traditions you won’t get to share with your children
Happy Bonfire Night and happy whining.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
The holiday season is right around the corner, and with it comes all the regrets, disappointments, slights, heartaches, and painful reminders we thought we’d overcome. Yeah. Right. Having been there, I know there will be some tough days when I’ll find myself sinking back into feeling isolated, lost, cheated, and, yes, crazy.
Fortunately, I (and you) have a role model named Lisa Manterfield, who frequently reminds me that I am not alone. She once stood where I stood on this rocky path, she survived…and now she’s thriving. And she shares her hard-won wisdom in her brilliant book, Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.
Lisa is a gentle and supportive guide, and she shares from her own experiences, from the workshops she’s led, and from the stories and tips LWB readers have passed along. She says this is the book she wishes she’d found when she first had to acknowledge she wouldn’t have children. Me, too, and as I read through the raw, real, and practical advice she’s included, I’ve found there’s something for every step of the journey.
You may have wounds so raw, you’re not sure how you’ll ever breathe again, let alone hold your composure during your nephew’s first Christmas. Lisa’s exercises will help you actively work through the stages of grief and arm yourself against social landmines, like the office holiday party when everyone talks about their kids. Maybe you’re feeling closer to accepting being childfree-not-by-choice, but haven’t the faintest idea what the heck you’re going to do with the rest of your life. Lisa’s got some suggestions for how you might thrive in a new happily ever after of your own design. And you don’t have to wait for January 1st to get started! Throughout, Lisa breaks open taboos and addresses the very real emotions and challenges we face every day, while offering understanding, support, and encouragement.
I know this because I had the privilege of editing Lisa’s book. After I finished the work, I tabbed several pages that spoke to me and highlighted exercises I wanted to revisit. Yes, even after all the work I’ve done to make peace with my given path, I still found there are some tender spots that need attention and resolution. Lisa’s book is helping me, and I believe there’s something in there that will help you too.
So, might I suggest the first item on your gift shopping list is one for yourself? Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle versions.
This holiday season, Kathleen Guthrie Woods is wishing for peace on earth, as well as a bit more peace about her childfree status.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Mari has been through the wringer, specifically the wringer called stage II endometriosis. While it’s considered a “mild” condition, its effects on fertility can be devastating and cruel.
As I read about Mari’s journey, I, like Mari, wondered how many other LWBers have been suffering from this. Is endometriosis part of your childless-not-by-choice story? If so, I hope you’ll share some of your experience in the Comments.
When asked “What’s the best advice you’d offer someone like you?”, Mari replied: “Follow your gut, do whatever you need to do to get answers. Explore all your options. And most of all, take care of yourself.”
Here’s how Mari took care of herself.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Mari: My dad died when I was 14, so my dreams of motherhood included having a boy and seeing my father in him. My husband has red hair, and I always imagined we would also have a little girl, with wavy red hair and freckles. We’d dress them in knit hats with animal ears and witty onesies. We would go camping, carve pumpkins, find a great sledding hill nearby…every season would have special moments.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Mari: By chance and circumstance. My husband and I had a lot of anxiety about parenthood, so we left it up to nature the first year. Much to my surprise, it didn’t happen. So I got in the game and tracked my basal body temperature, etc….still nothing. Meanwhile, everyone around me seemed to be getting pregnant without trying. When was it going to be our turn? What was wrong with me? Maybe this delay was just the universe telling us to go have an adventure while we can. So we took a trip to Japan, something we always talked about doing someday. I had hoped to conceive a “souvenir” while we were there. Shortly after our return, I decided it was time for fertility testing. We passed everything with flying colors except for what my doctor thought was a fibroid on my HSG [hysterosalpingogram] X-ray. I scheduled hysteroscopic surgery for removal, but it turned out to be just an air bubble on the X-ray from the contrast fluid. I felt like such a fool for getting my hopes up that this would be our fix, and for paying several thousand dollars for NOTHING. We tried IUI [intrauterine insemination] once after that, then decided to keep trying on our own since we couldn’t find anything wrong. A few times I wondered if I had endometriosis, but my OB/GYN wasn’t concerned since adhesions didn’t show up on the X-ray or in the pictures they took with the hysteroscope.
LWB: What was your turning point?
Mari: This spring I was at the outlet mall for a girls shopping trip. We went into a kids clothing store for my nieces and nephews, as we do every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around and be reminded of my broken dreams, to feel my heart sink each time I saw clothing I would pick for my own little ones. So I hung out by the door, watching glowing mothers parade in and out, feeling so many awful feelings. Then the tears came. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to move forward until I had answers. I went to see the fertility specialist again who recommended laparoscopic surgery, since endometriosis makes up about 40% of unexplained infertility cases. My OB/GYN advised against it, saying I could put that money toward IVF. But I went with my gut and did it anyway, based on my history of painful periods and IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) symptoms. And I was right: Surgery revealed stage II endometriosis, with adhesions near my bowel and appendix.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Mari: We’ve spoken with adoption agencies and have had an IVF consult, but can’t bring ourselves to commit to what would be an even more expensive and emotionally draining journey. Stage II endometriosis equals mild endometriosis, so we’re back to leaving it up to nature, even though our chances of conception are slim. I’m fed up with hope, with bullshit miracle stories about a friend of a friend who conceived a unicorn by eating a rainbow. I just want to “be” for a while. To sum it up, I would say we are taking a break until our Plan B becomes clear to us.
On your journey, was there a turning point moment when you listened to your body and defied an “expert’s” advice? Perhaps you pursued a test that confirmed a barrier you suspected, or perhaps it was that moment when your body announced it was DONE trying to conceive and nudged you forward into grieving and acceptance. We’d like to hear from 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.
Did you know 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.
By Lisa Manterfield
I often refer to this article by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman about how not to say the wrong thing to someone in crisis. I wish it was mandatory reading for everyone, and I especially wish it came with a note explaining that it applies when talking to infertiles and the childless-not-by-choice.
The gist of their Ring Theory is that the person in crisis is at the center of the ring and those next closest to the person occupy subsequent rings. In the case of someone coming to terms with not having children, she would be at the center, her spouse or partner on the next ring, perhaps closest family and friends on the next, and more distant family, coworkers, and acquaintances beyond that.
The rule is that that if people have something mean or insensitive or opinionated to say, they say it to someone on a bigger ring. When speaking to someone on a smaller ring, they can only listen or—if they must say something—offer help, support, or comfort. No advice, no miracle stories, no blame or shame. No offering of their kids, no suggestions to adopt. “I’m sorry” is all that needs to be said. If they want to dump, dump outwards, not inwards.
I wish people would understand that someone who has just acknowledged she won’t ever have children is in crisis, and what she needs more than judgment and unhelpful help is for people to say to the right thing.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
M’s turning point came after six long years of enduring the physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion of infertility. “I wanted to feel like I was living again,” she says, “free from the ‘will we?’ or ‘won’t we?’ limbo land.” Having also “gambled away” thousands of dollars on IVF, she and her husband, E, made the difficult decision to “step away from the pursuit of a lifelong dream, knowing we did all we could.”
Making the decision to stop is one thing. “Changing my mindset from ‘when we have kids’ to ‘we’re childfree’ is not an easy or quick process,” she says. “I’ve had the ‘when I have kids’ mindset for 40 years!”
As their journey unfolded, M and E wondered where the other people like them were. So they started a podcast to talk about the scary and difficult parts of this journey, to include the male perspective, to connect with other people who are going through what they’re going through, that is, trying to figure out what a childfree life can look like. After you read M’s story below, listen in on some of their real, relatable, thought-provoking, and sometimes amusing conversations at How Did We Get Here? with E&M.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
M: I always wanted to be a mother. I dreamt about it as a little girl as I played with my baby dolls. I couldn’t wait until the day that I got to experience being pregnant, having a baby shower, decorating a nursery, choosing a name, and on and on. Throughout my twenties and thirties, I saw friend after friend experience these things, and I hoped that my turn would come. I wondered what our baby would look like and how they would take after their dad or me. So many dreams from pregnancy to sending them to college to their wedding….
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
M: We tried to conceive for about six years. My husband had an infertility outpatient surgery early in our journey, which led to a major emergency surgery, 25 days in the hospital, and more than a year of recovery. He came very close to losing his life, and the entire experience was very traumatic for us both. A few years after he healed, we decided to try IVF. After three rounds of IVF (one transfer, zero pregnancies), we decided to stop trying to conceive and remain a family of two.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
M: We decided earlier this year to stop infertility treatments and live childfree. I am in a period of grieving while accepting and planning our Plan B life. I do still have some anger about all that we’ve been through, and am not totally sure how to deal with it. I’m trying to be patient/compassionate toward myself, which is not always easy.
My husband and I are journeying through this transition on a podcast, How Did We Get Here? with E & M. This journey feels so lonely sometimes, and we thought a podcast might help us to connect with others going through the same thing, would be therapeutic for us and hopefully helpful for others too. (Side note: We make $0 from the podcast. It’s just something we do for us, from our home.)
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
M: “Mother” has always been a part of my identity since I was a very young girl. So now…it feels like a very sacred part of me is dying and the grief is hard to put into words.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
M: Dive into the waves of grief; don’t try to ignore them or fight them. Give yourself as much time as you need to feel whatever you need to feel. There’s no timeline. I remind myself of this advice often.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
M: I love the freedom we have to make decisions based solely on what we want. I love how calm and peaceful our home is—especially when I hear the kids next door being difficult, loud, or whiny! I love how much my husband and I appreciate one another after surviving this journey together.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
M: I am so much more resilient than I ever knew! Even when I’m overwhelmed with tears of grief, I feel my strength. I know the tears will pass and that I’ll be okay. Life has run me over many times, and yet I’m still standing. I’m proud of that.
How are you faring today? 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.
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.
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?
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