As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“I need to start doing something with my life,” Holly, age 36, wrote, “otherwise it’s all just a waste of time.”
Holly is in that horrible ugly weird limbo in which she’s grieving her loss of the dream of motherhood, kinda still “hoping for a miracle a little bit”, while also trying to work through her anger and figure out a Plan B. Sound familiar? I thought so.
Read on to see how she’s doing, and consider sharing some of your journey with her in the Comments.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Holly: I have never been a particularly child-orientated person, meaning I didn’t obsess over other people’s children or coo at strangers’ babies. But there did come a point in my life when I just felt ready to have my own. It felt natural and not at all scary.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Holly: Circumstance: I ran out of time. I have been with my partner for 17 years. He is 22 years older and has four grown-up children. At first, he said he didn’t want any more children and it didn’t matter to me because I was young and didn’t know that I wanted them myself. At the start I was so in love, I couldn’t contemplate life without him and I thought it would work out somehow. I realise now that I should have thought ahead.
More recently, though I still love him, I have considered leaving him. But I know it would take me a long time to get to a point where I can start a family with somebody else. I might even have to go through a few somebodies before I find “the one”, then I would need to wait until we’re at the right stage of our relationship before starting a family, and then how old would I be? Although there’s still some sliver of possibility, I made the decision to stop believing, stop wishing, and start accepting a life without children.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Holly: A lot of my friends are getting married and having children. When they break the news to me, I have to look all excited and interested. I’m not doing either of those things. A friend of mine who had been trying to convince her husband to get a cat told me she had some news. “Ooh, are you getting a cat?” I asked. “No,” she replied, “I’m having a baby!” I just replied, “But you can still have a cat, can’t you?” It’s knee-jerk reaction for me to find something jokey to say when I get that kind of news because I’m concerned that if I just say “Congratulations”, they’re going to hear the insincerity in my voice.
What I hate most is the ease with which they do it; most of them fall pregnant a few short months after getting married. It’s like they say, “What shall we do now? Have a baby? Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” Like they’re just deciding to walk through a fucking door, and they don’t seem to appreciate that some people are bricked in.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Holly: I always dreaded the baggage that came with having children. I am very glad to have escaped having to be friends with parents who have no personal identity and talk constantly about their children; having to go to (or host!) children’s parties; and being forced to talk to strangers and give them updates on my son/daughter.
LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?
Holly: Never take anything for granted. Younger woman should not take it for granted that they are going to have children and start thinking about a Plan B. Mums and dads should not take it for granted that everybody can have what they’ve got. (And try to exercise a little tact rather than parading their children around like they’re the second coming, or saying “you’ll understand when you have children”.)
Also, this pain isn’t that of wanting something that I cannot have; it’s more a loss, a grief. Years ago I imagined that my baby already existed somewhere and I was just waiting to meet him. I bought a little jumper and an elephant toy for him, things that I had seen when out buying things for my sisters’ babies and thought I would save for the future. So there were already traces of him in my life. When it became clear my boyfriend did not want children with me, I sat and held these items and talked out loud to my baby. I told him that I loved him and that it wasn’t his fault. I’ve never said any of this to anybody and I know why: it sounds ridiculous. What I mean by this is that I’m not coming to terms with not being able to have a baby, rather I feel I am having to lay my baby to rest. I would never want to compare myself to a grieving parent, as that must be the worst imaginable nightmare, but I do feel this is loss I am feeling.
LWB: What’s your Plan B?
Holly: I don’t have a Plan B. I’m still trying to work that one out. Right now I am not living my life like somebody who is free of children. I don’t travel, I don’t follow my hobbies or my passions. I need to start doing something with my life, otherwise it’s all just a waste, but I don’t know what that’s going to be yet.
Where are you on your journey? Are you angry? Grieving? Outlining a Plan B? All of the above? We’d love to hear from you so we can better understand our own journeys and so we can 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.
You can find more of Our Stories here.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
What a beautiful post!!! I honor your loss.
Thank you for sharing.
xoxo
Kristine
I feel for you. I am later in that ‘journey’ – I am nearly 45 and a step-nanna now! In reality I would not want to be a mum now, as I have some health issues and struggle with anxiety, but of course I still regularly have a good cry because life really isn’t fair. If I could turn back time, then I would not have married my first husband (who did not want children) and I would have admitted far sooner that I was broody (I used to buy baby magazines, read them in my car and then hide them at the bottom of my wardrobe)
Hi,
Thanks for sharing your story. My husband is 14 years older than me and we have male factor infertility. My husband never wanted to try fertility treatments. He basically just told me he had been there, done that and didn’t want to talk about it. I believe that he was treated for a problem many years ago, and that things have changed substantially since then in the field, but he is just not interested in opening up and having a real conversation with me about it. More than anything else, this hurts. It is too late fore me now. I just turned 47, but we have been together (off and on for the first few years) since I was 23. I always expected that we would have children, although like you, I am not one of those women that lives for babies. In my late 30s and early 40s, I suffered from depression and anxiety. I was stuck writing a doctoral dissertation that had lost all meaning for me because I was grieving that child I did not and would not have. I was also very resentful of my husband, not for his infertility, but for his inability to discuss the issue with me openly and to try to find a solution. Two years ago I nearly lost my husband, and coming so close to losing him took me to a new realization to not take anything for granted in this life and to try to be as happy as I can be. I tried to focus more on living in the now and to enjoy myself through hobbies, etc. I started feeling better. But, this is not a linear process. I am on hear typing this at 12:51 in the morning because I was just watching a television program where the interviewer congratulated his guest, an older man with grown children, on the birth of his new baby. The guest was obviously overjoyed, thanked the interviewer and closed with “it’s a blessing.” It got to me tonight, this sense of being overlooked. I wanted that blessing, too. I know exactly what you mean when you say that it gets to you, the ease with which people can just have children. One of my best friends did not want to have children. She decided to try to have a baby because her husband was really pushing her for this. She got pregnant on her first try at 40, after 15 years of marriage. Most of my friends have children, some are becoming grandparents, and in the last year, 6 of my young friends have had babies. At 47 now, 36 seems so young to me. It is tough because you are at a crossroads. All I can suggest is that you have another heart to heart talk with your boyfriend. If it is hard for you to say all that you feel, write it down. I don’t know that he will change his mind, but who knows. If not, think about the kind of life you want to have, and about your feelings for your partner. Sometimes this type of resentment destroys the love we have. I hope, regardless of what you decide, that you will find happiness.
I have had many heart to hearts with him and a few years ago he did say he would have a baby with me but then did nothing about it, and now we’re here, he’s going to be 59 in two months and I’m 36.5, I just don’t think there’s a good chance of us having a healthy baby so I have to accept we’ve left it too late… and he STILL is not doing anything about it, which means he’ll be in his sixties before we’re in a position to move on.
To give this some context… I live in a one bedroom flat, in order to move to a bigger house he will have to raise some capital from the properties he owns with his ex wife, in order to do that he will have to tell her about me !! I would also refuse to have a baby without his other children knowing about me also.
Yes, it’s that bad. He basically said he would have a baby with me and then made absolutely no commitment whatsoever. And I stayed with him, because I kept thinking of I have him a bit more time it would happen… But he’s really good at excuses.
So now I’m just accepting that a) he’s too old to have a baby with and b) he’s probably never going to commit to me.
And to find somebody else and start from scratch would take too long, and so it’s something I wouldn’t want to pin my hopes on… Because I’ve had a lifetime of being hopeful and being let down and it’s too painful to do again.
Thank you for sharing your story with me xx
36.5 is not necessarily too late. But the first question I would ask myself is whether the relationship I’m in is a good one, with or without children. Are you loved, honoured and valued by someone who, after 17 years, still keeps you a secret? Do you want to continue to be in a relationship with someone who makes excuses instead of listening to you? How is that affecting your self-worth? If I could go back to 36, when I also started feeling like it was ‘too late’, I would have a completely different opinion… Hindsight is a wonderful thing! Hugs to you x x x
Hi, I don’t know what happened to the response I previously posted. It was much longer than this one, but here goes: My husband is 14 years older than me. We have been together (off and on for the first few years) since I was 23. We have male factor infertility, for which my husband did not want to seek treatment. He told me that he was told it was hopeless, but my guess is that this was very long ago, that treatment options have changed and that we might have had a chance. He made the choice not to try, and so I am childless. At age 47, I am mostly ok with my status. This was not the case when I was in my late 30s and 40s and suffered both depression and anxiety. It is also not a linear improvement. Tonight, I am here writing this at 1:20 in the morning, because I am feeling down. (Just saw an interviewer congratulate his guest, an older man, on the birth of his new baby, to which the guest responded thank you, it is a blessing. I feel cheated that I didn’t have that blessing.) I can relate to your frustration with how something that is so easy for others, has been so difficult for us. My friends are now becoming grandmothers, and 7 of my young friends gave birth in the past year. I can also understand your feelings of resentment, that certainly do eat away at love. I nearly lost my husband 2 years ago, since then, and probably even a bit before, I promised myself to try to be as happy as I could be and to live in the now. At 47, 36 seems very young to me. If I may, I would just advise you to speak to your partner very clearly and openly about the feelings you are having. I don’t know that he will change his mind, and I don’t know how much damage this has already done to your relationship, but be brave and talk about it. Regardless of what decision you make, I wish you happiness.
Although our circumstances are very different,relationship wise,the rest is so relatable to me,it breaks my heart reading your story.
I feel the same way, Holly, and I’m in a similar situation to you, with regards to my husband. Thank you for having the courage to share your story. The only comfort I get is finding out that I’m not the only person in the world going through this! Thanks also to Kathleen and Lisa for this place to share. x x x
Yes, this:
“Never take anything for granted. Younger woman should not take it for granted that they are going to have children and start thinking about a Plan B. Mums and dads should not take it for granted that everybody can have what they’ve got.”
I can relate to so much of of your story, I also wish I had thought ahead at a younger age.
Hi Holly
What a beautiful (not sure if that is the right word) story. I admire you for going through the grief. I went to counselling last year and he wanted me to have a “funeral” for my imaginary baby. But I couldn’t go through with it as it felt too strange to do.
A lot of what you said in your post I can relate to including your reasons for being childless. My best friend, whom I have known since primary school, is getting married at Easter and I am dreading the day she tells me she is pregnant.
She is my only friend without children and I have practiced what I am going to say to her over and over again. As I know it is only a matter of time before I have to put on the show for her.
It seems quite a few people on here turn to dogs as a plan B.
Best wishes on your journey.
x