By Lisa Manterfield
This post is an oldie, originally posted on April 26, 2012, but I think it’s worth a rerun. You can see what others had to say in the original comments here.
There are two questions I get asked frequently: How did you come to terms with not having children, and how long did it take?
The answer is something akin to “how long is a piece of string and how many knots can you tie in it?”
Believe me when I tell you that if I could write down ten easy steps to making peace with being childfree-not-by-choice, I’d do it, but the answer isn’t that simple. Yes, there were many things that happened along the way that helped me make some peace, but it took closer to 10,000 steps than ten.
Writing down my story was hugely cathartic, venting about the injustices on this blog helped, too. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this and that people like you were out there wanting to talk through the minefield has helped immeasurably. Drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is where that chapter of my life ends and this is where I start healing” also helped. And frankly, telling myself a big fat lie that I was better off not being a mother actually helped me to realize that in many ways I was. Setting new goals, appreciating the benefits of not having kids, and allowing myself to feel bitter and badly treated when I needed to. All these things helped.
I don’t think there’s a formula for working your way through this, and it’s definitely a journey of making forward process and dealing with inevitable setbacks.
As for how long the process takes? How long is that piece of string? It’s been three years for me and I consider myself largely at peace with my situation. I have closed the door on the idea that I will have children someday and most days I’m good with it. Everyday it gets a little better and a little easier. Some days there will be reminders of what I’ve lost and sometimes a flicker of a thought of “what if…”
The truth is, in many ways, I expect this piece of string to go on forever. The experience of infertility has changed me. It is one of the most significant and life-changing events of my life, and I don’t think the repercussions of that will ever stop reverberating. It doesn’t mean I won’t find harmony and even happiness in this new life – I already have – but I don’t expect this journey of coming-to-terms to ever fully end.
It took me about 6 years, but sometimes I’m not sure I’m there yet. I am working my way through the 5 stages of grief – denial and bargaining are over, but I still cycle through anger and depression more often than would probably point to acceptance. What saves my sanity is the knowledge that I probably could not handle parenthood, and that my medical condition means the physical part might have really wrecked me.
I think it would be easier if silent societal pressure wasn’t so rife, even in this “green” age.
I think society’s attitude towards those of us who don’t have children keeps me depressed and makes me feel like I’m sure sort of freak. My husband’s former high school friend and his wife stayed with us over the weekend. They have 6 children and when I told her we did not have any she said “Oh what a pity”. It’s that continuing pity from others that keep me stuck, and unable to feel like my life is worthy without children.
Bingo. Thanks.
It has been amazing to find this group and know I am not alone. It has also been a bit heartbreaking as I was truly hoping to read that there is an end to the hurt of infertility and being childfree. I guess that I always knew this wasn’t something that I could just ‘move on” from. The daily (and every 28 day) reminders are constantly picking fresh scabs that develop. I am stuck in the bitter phase and I do not see any light at the end of this tunnel.
I have to agree with Michelle about the everyday constant reminders…it so difficult sometimes! I should be over these feelings-I’ll be 55 yrs old in 1 month!
I agree with Michelle as well. In fact, for me, the 28 day reminder is one of the main reasons that I think I am far from coming to terms with my situation. It’s a little game I play with myself. Every month I have to try, even though I no longer talk about this with my husband or do any fertility treatments, and only try the good ole’ fashioned way. And every month I fail. But there’s that teensie weensie bit of hope, and I cling to it like a drowning person. And if I don’t try every month there’s no peace for me. So I guess I’m still in the thick of it even though I’m turning 46 and it’s been two years since I’ve tried any infertility treatments. And I know how slim my chances are at this age.
I wish I could start healing but I’m my own worst enemy. Still very grateful to know that I’m not alone in this. I’ve never belonged to a blog like this before, and it’s really proving to be comforting and helpful.
I can honestly say that talking about it in places like this, and writing about it, helps. I couldn’t do it in my ‘bitter’ phase though, only now that I feel I’m coming through it.