My friend Paula turned 50 this year. It’s been more than a decade since she and her husband realized it was time to accept that they wouldn’t have children. For ten years she’s been working through the mess—the grief, the anger, the sadness, the despair, the big, big question of “what am I am going to do now that I won’t be a mother?” And because her older brother was a confirmed bachelor, Paula also felt pressure from her parents to produce a grandchild, even though they never said it out loud.
But that was a long time ago. If you ask Paula now, she’ll tell you she’s “cured.” She’ll tell you that, most days, she doesn’t think about the fact that she’s childless. She and her husband travel, they have a broad circle of friends, she’s been able to hop on career opportunities that would have been difficult with small children. She enjoys her friends’ children and she enjoys handing them back to their parents. In her candid moments, she’ll say her life worked out better than she’d expected and might not have been so great if she’d had the children she once so desperately desired.
Life is pretty good for Paula.
And then her brother fell in love, married, and shortly thereafter announced he would become a father. Paula called me in tears. She was utterly blindsided by her tearful reaction.
“I thought I was over this,” she said. “I wouldn’t swap places with my brother for anything. A newborn at 53? Nightmare.”
She told me her parents were over the moon, that her mother was telling everyone that she was going to be a grandma. “At last,” she told people, giving Paula a meaningful look.
“At last?” Paula said to her father. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
And that’s when her dad opened up. He admitted how “difficult” all this waiting and longing had been for them. He’d felt left out too, he told her.
She understood, but his confession found its way deep inside Paula, to that one small dark spot that had yet to heal, and poured salt into all those old—and now reopened—wounds. The guilt and shame that consumed her in that moment was overwhelming, and the tremendous weight of that was part of what took her by surprise. Her brother had made her aging parents happy, had given them the thing she couldn’t. The family torch had been passed and it wouldn’t be to Paula.
When I talked to Paula again a couple of weeks later, she assured me that she was going to be okay. She said a part of her was looking forward to being an aunt and that her big grown-up self was happy for her brother and her parents.
“But,” she added, “people always ask how long it takes to get over not being a mother. I always thought seven or eight years was about right, but now I think maybe the answer is ‘never.’”
I believe that we encounter situations that trigger the pain…
It’s hard, very hard…
I turned 50 last year. The answer is indeed never.
Cvb;
Hi ! I am 53…and is still hard…
Praying for all of us.
I’m just starting on this journey and find it hard to believe that I will ever completely get over not being a mom. I’ve been able to mother a lot of kids over the course of my life, but it’s not really the same.
Thank you for sharing this. I am 15 years into my journey, 10 struggling through infertility and 5 accepting my childless life. Like Paula, most days, I am very happy with the way my life turned out. But then, something happens that causes me to wobble…
I wrote a blog called “Will it always hurt?” (You can read it here, if you like – http://notsomommy.com/will-it-always-hurt/ ) And the short answer to that question is yes. But luckily, “… if you’ve done the work (and I mean really taken the time to do the work), then the hurt isn’t all-consuming. It’s a fleeting moment that you wade through, not something you drown in.”
please be careful jow you phrase your message. What about someone who takes longer than you or has a harder time than you in dealing with this? Will you tell them that they juat didn‘t ‚work‘ hard enough? This might benvery harsh for someone who is probably already riddled with guilt and shame.
Oh my! I would never tell someone who is struggling that they haven’t worked hard enough. This journey is tough! And my point in saying “really do the work” was meant to show that grief work is hard and takes time. My heart was soft when saying these words… I’m so sorry if it came across as harsh when reading it. Hugs…
I lost my husband 17 months ago I am childless and a widow…
You go through the Grief Journey but you never get over it…no matter if it is a child, parent, husband or a dream of what was…
You learn to be Happy and content and you also learn to be human…I cry because I remember a moment my husband and I had, I feel heartache when I recall Mothers Days with my Mom and how special I made her feel, I get a little sad when I remember my Dad going to breakfast with me…and I feel a little jealous when I hear of yet another couple having a baby or grandbaby…
As long as you dont stay there and continue in your life you are completely normal
Hugs, Lenita. Thank you for sharing this. I am very, very sorry for your loss. We must indeed carry on. And I hope that life will meet you with new journeys and new loves and happiness.
I read Paula’s story and it brought tears to my eyes. And I can say that I concur with all of the above comments. I’m 67 now and it’s been 30 years since my husband and I decided, after a series of unsuccessful fertility treatments that were available at the time, that we would have a life without children (married 46 years). We’ve forged a very satisfying life together with motorcycle travel and enjoying hobbies both together and separately. I really feel that, all things considered I’ve adjusted very well. That’s why I was so surprised a few days ago when I received a baby shower invitation for a niece-in-law on my husband’s side of the family. He has 3 siblings and one of the sister-in-laws will be the grandmother. The other 2 whom I thought I was relatively close to, put their names on the invitation as giving the shower. The shower is being held at one of my sister-in-laws homes and I felt so bad because they totally left me out, never asked me if I wanted to help or be a part of the planning (and I see these ladies frequently). In the past I’ve been included in wedding shower planning but this feels so discriminatory since I don’t fit in with the mom/grandmother club. I feel so embarrassed and hurt that I think I’ll just buy a nice gift and make some excuse to not attend. Am I being too sensitive? Probably. But I just don’t want to be relagated to a table to play baby games and make small talk with the mothers and grandmothers. If they had included me to help with shower at least I’d be able to have a job to do. My point of this diatribe is that in my experience it is possible to make a valiant effort to accept our infertility but there will still always be very hurtful moments that trigger the pain. It’s just important to protect ourselves from those who trigger that pain as much as possible. A true challenge indeed that I plan to continue to meet head on so that my happiness will be intact. Thanks all. This is a such a terrific, supportive group.
I’m sorry. Honestly, I would send a gift and make an excuse not to go. Just don’t let your current (and in my opinion, quite justified) hurt feelings, be allowed to create more lasting resentments with people that you are close to. I actually really never liked baby showers. Way before I knew that I wasn’t going to have kids, I often avoided baby showers. Last year, I actually threw one for a young woman, in difficult financial circumstances, and was happy to have done so. I was busy and most of the people that attended didn’t have kids either. (mostly because they were younger). I don’t think it is the shower itself that would bother me, but rather the resentment of having been left out/excluded. Hope you get over this soon!
Hi Phyllis – thank you for sharing, I don’t think you are being too sensitive and I would be just as hurt at being excluded. I have tried to explain my feelings to various people (friends and family) – it doesn’t change much. I think it more important to protect ourselves from those who trigger the pain. For me that has meant letting go of quite a few friends over the years – I’ve even let go of my brother as he’s been so insensitive. My mum has said so many hurtful things – I thought I was immune but no – i finally built up the courage to let her know how I felt and after an almighty hurtful outpouring and nasty comments both ways I vowed never to explain my pain ever again to anyone! We managed to focus on the good things we see in each other and I think she understood some of the deep rooted sadness that will never leave me but I’m back where I was – only speaking to those in my shoes who can actually offer the compassion I need. So so sorry for all your hurt – put you top of the list and you don’t have to explain your actions or reactions to anyone. Thinking of you and all of us.
Thank you LWB and Paula for this post – resonated with me this week very loudly, following a huge row with my Mum that has been brewing for 10 years! Anyway two things really spoke to me – “I agree with never getting over this”. I want to add for those just finding LWB for the first time – Yes we absolutely can let good things back into our lives and be happy and fulfilled but like Brandi said – the grief must be processed and acknowledged and worked through and that takes however long it takes (and is not linear) and we must protect ourselves when we need to. What I also really want to express though is the quote from Dad “we didn’t get to have grandchildren”. I am so sorry Paula – I actually think that this is so out of order actually. Lisa – would you post the “ring” principle. I’ll try and find it. Quick summary – those at the heart of the crisis (centre of the first ring) should never be on the receiving end of someone moaning in – on a secondary circle. Its hard to explain like this. I’ll find the post. Dad (with ring principles in mind) should have shared his sadness with his wife, partner friends/ son only but never Paula (like we’re not under enough pressure already). Please check out the ring post – its very helpful in understanding other people when they are in the centre of their crisis. So so sorry Paula – think you are incredibly strong.
PS – we are at the centre of our infertility crisis and always will be no matter how brave we seem and however much we re-engage with life.
Here’s the post on the ring theory – sorry for the delay (I couldn’t find it and then there was the time zone)! Its a wonderful post and worth a visit – my explanation above was somewhat garbled! Here are a few quotes from an online article and below that is a link to Lisa’s post.
“The person in the center circle can cope any way he/she wants. The job of those in the larger circles is to listen and support. You are not allowed to dump your anger, fear, or grief to people in circles smaller than yours. Express these emotions to those in your circle or larger circles.”
https://www.lifewithoutbaby.com/2017/10/02/say-wrong-thing-infertile/
My husband only has 1 brother; his brother married an awful, mentally ill woman and they were successful in their infertility and had the only golden grand baby on my husband’s side. We have chosen not to be part of their lives because of my awful sister in law’s manipulative behavior. But what’s worse is my mother in law’s comments about her ONLY grandbaby and all their precious memories they’ve created. Ughhhhh. I’ve been excluded so many times and hurt by her comments countless times. The hurt hasn’t had a chance to heal and only gets more painful as time goes on and I feel how much I’ve truly missed. It sucks. It’s so unfair. We are all good people here that would have been loving and responsible parents. Hugs and blessings to all as we suffer and struggle. May we all some day find the validation and peace and purpose we all deserve!
I wanted to reply to everyone on this post. Paula, I can’t help but feel a little angry about the insensitive comments by your family. Unfortunately this just seems to come with the territory of the life experiences of being childless not by choice. It takes a lot of strength to overcome. Lenita, I am so, so, sorry for your losses of your husband and the children you hoped to have. I hope that you are finding some peace. Brandi, I’ve signed up for your blog and loved your story about the cockroach in your cupboard and how you connected it to life experiences. Jane and Iris thanks for your response to my post and your very helpful comments. ElleVee, Lenita, Stacy, Analia, Cvb, you’re in for a bumpy ride (as you’ve all already experienced) but you will hopefully have many happy, fulfilling days. As for me, I just ordered a very nice baby shower gift to be sent to the potential new parents with my regrets that I won’t be able to attend their shower but wish them lots of happiness with their new baby. And Iris, you are right it’s not the shower itself that bothers me as I’ve been to many, many baby showers and have even hosted some of them with my sisters. The best ones were those I helped to host which makes this hard for me. I won’t let it ruin my relationship with the family but I’ll be a lot more realistic about my place so to speak. And my husband is suggesting a weekend getaway which sounds much more fun. On a little side note. I donate platelets for the Red Cross which are used for cancer patients. They called me yesterday desperately needing a donation this week. So, on Sunday that’s where I’ll be. Actually made me feel good that I can help them out
Thanks Phyllis for sharing – it really helps to see how others react and cope and in doing so finding the heart of the pain trigger.
Hugs to Paula (and to all of you). That’s such a hard situation to be thrust into. I don’t think we ever truly get “over it,” we just learn to live our lives as best we can — and for the most part, they really can be good. 🙂 But situations like this, reminding us of what we will never have — especially when they come out of the blue like that — can be so, so hard, no matter how much time has passed.