Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

The Secret Society of Childless and Childfree Women

I was at a cocktail reception last night. A couple of times a year I dig out my high heels from the back of the closet, assume the role as Executive Wife, and spend the evening shaking hands, eating things on sticks, and trying to remember the names of people’s spouses (and in some cases the names of the people themselves.) When stuck for small talk, I always turn to the subject I know will get people talking; I ask about their children or grandchildren. In many cases, I’ve known these people for many years, and I’m glad to hear updates; in others it’s a ploy. In know that all I have to do then is sit back and let them talk instead of having to come up with anything new and witty to say.

Most of the people I knew in the room have children. Some of their grown children were there. At one point in the evening, I glanced around the room of maybe 80-100 guests and spotted three visibly pregnant women (and spoke to another, although I didn’t know it at the time.) It wasn’t until I bent down to admire the shoes of a little girl toddling around that I was suddenly aware of my childlessness. I wondered if people who knew me well enough to know about my situation noticed me and thought, “What a shame she can’t have children.” But I shook the thought off quickly and got on with my job of working the room.

At the end of the evening, one of my husband’s employees found me. She pulled me aside and told me that she had seen this website and that she got what I was all about (I’m paraphrasing.) She told how she loved children, but had never wanted children of her own, and she told me about the amazing volunteer work she does fundraising for a local children’s organization. Talking to here was like finding a lush tropical island in the middle of the sea of parents. It was like being a part of a secret underground organization and hearing someone else speak one of the code words.

So maybe we childless and childfree women need an identifier so we can find one another at social gatherings. Maybe we need our own secret masonic handshake, or a piece of jewelry with the Life Without Baby crest subtly showing. Because wouldn’t it be great when we find ourselves at mixers and receptions and other social gatherings to be able to find just one person to talk to and not have to talk about their kids?

More Than Just an Infertile Couple

Over the summer my husband and I went with a group of friends to see one of our favorite bands in concert. We’ve seen them several times in that last couple of years, but this concert was a small outdoor venue at a winery in Sonoma County, the heart of California’s Wine Country.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, the wine flowed, the picnic we brought was delicious, and when I suggested to my husband that we get up to dance on the lawn, he said yes. We danced through the entire show, until I was perspiring in a most unladylike manner and we’d just about worn a bald spot on the grass. Our other friends (who all have children) have “husbands-who-don’t-dance” and the wives, I’m sure, coveted my husband for a couple of hours. After the show we bought a CD, got it autographed by the band and even chased down the drummer, who I have a small , strange crush on. And we laughed. We danced and laughed and ate and drank. It really was a perfect day.

Two months have passed and I’m still thinking about that day. We’ve been to other concerts and events since and had a good time, maybe even been to better concerts, but that day sticks in my mind. That day my husband and I were the people we used to be before we were an infertile couple. Somewhere along that journey, little bits of who we were chipped off and we forgot why we ever got together and wanted children in the first place. That day reminded me.

If you’re childless-not-by-choice (or even not-exactly-by-choice) has the experienced changed who you are? And when was the last time you did something with your partner that made you both happy? If it’s been a while, can you plan something in the upcoming weeks that will break you out of your “infertile couple” state and remind you why you got together in the first place?

Earlier this year, Vicki at A Woman Without Children wrote about a hiking adventure with her husband. Maybe this will give you some inspiration, too.   

Ten Things I Love About My Body

Sparked by a suggestion from Jennifer on yesterday’s post, Happily Childless, Not-So-Happily Infertile, I’ve decided to cut my body some slack. So, it didn’t do exactly what I wanted it to do. Like Jennifer said, maybe it did the best it could. In truth, my body has been good to me and even it would never win a medal in the Reproductive Olympics, it would at least make the team in other areas.

Here are my top ten things I love and appreciate about my body:

  1. It’s never had a major illness that’s caused me to be hospitalized or aggressively treated
  2. My immune system is a ninja when it comes to fighting colds and flus.
  3. My digestive system is built like a nuclear fallout shelter, allowing me to eat just about anything
  4. My brain can do a Sudoku or Ken-ken  in pen
  5. My 40-year-old hair is still dark and shiny, except for a couple of grey rebels
  6. My shoulders are flexible enough that I can scratch my own back almost anywhere
  7. My legs can run, propel a bike, and do ten sets of stairs at the beach
  8. My boobs are closer to my chin than they are to my bellybutton
  9. My heart has the ability to swell to twice its normal size in the presence of someone I love
  10. My rump has superhuman magnetic powers for my husband’s hand

Be good to your body. Tell it (and us) what you love most about it.

Happily Childless, Not-So-Happily Infertile

Recently I’ve been dreaming about babies. These aren’t sad dreams or dreams of longing, just dreams in which I’ve interacted, in a very tender way, with a baby that wasn’t mine. I’ve woken up thinking about the dream, but not upset by it.

Last night I had a different dream. I was on one of those double decker open-topped tour buses (like the one I took in San Francisco last week) and the tour guide asked if anyone had ever tried (and he implied, failed) to have a baby. I reluctantly put up my hand. Looking around the bus, I saw that I was the only one.

“And what was that like?” asked the tour guide.

“It was horrible,” I replied. “It’s completely out of your control and there’s nothing you can do about it. There are procedures and things you can do to help, but you can’t control whether they work or not.”

After that the dream gets fuzzy and I woke up feeling very out-of-sorts.

Pottering around the kitchen this morning, I knew this would be a blog post of some nature, I just didn’t know about what. The dreams didn’t make much sense and I couldn’t decipher any meaning to them.

Buttering my toast, it came to me.

I am happily childless, but I am not happily infertile. I have reconciled the fact that I am not going to have children and I am okay with that. In fact, the more time passes, the more I realize how much I enjoy my life without children and what an upheaval to that life children would be. The part I haven’t yet reconciled is my infertility. I still can’t fully get to grips with the idea that my body failed me and that, no matter how hard I worked, not matter how dedicated I was to the goal,  there was nothing I could do to change that.

I don’t feel alone in my childlessness–the majority of my friends don’t have children—but infertility is still, and maybe will always be, something that makes me feel like the odd one out—the only person on the bus with her hand in the air.

Childless in the Workplace

A friend of mine was recently offered a “promotion.” The job came with more prestige and opportunity, but also a significant increase in stress and responsibility, and no increase in pay. My friend wanted the job, but politically, she knew she had to take it. Declining the offer would have been a mark against her for future opportunities, so she accepted the position (and is now working crazy hours, weekends, and also had her planned vacation cancelled.) She later came to find out that someone else had been offered the job, but had turned it down because he has children. My friend, with no children, had no legitimate excuse for not taking the job. If she’d refused because she wanted to spend more time with her fiancé, she doesn’t think she would have a job at all today. Yes, my friend was able to take that opportunity, and yes, it will serve her well in her future career, but it seems that more is expected of childless employees.

Have you found this in your workplace?

Nobel Prize Awarded to Father of IVF

Last week, Robert G. Edwards was awarded the Nobel Prize in Psychology and Medicine for his work in in vitro fertilization. Edwards pioneered the technique that has allowed millions of infertile women to have biological children (about 4 million so far) of their own. There is no disputing that his work was ground-breaking and has made a huge and largely positive impact on our society.

And yet…

When I heard the announcement on the radio, my toes curled. I never went through IVF myself, but through this website, I’ve spoken to many women who have. I’ve heard their stories about the treatment, the drugs, the pain and the sickness, and I’ve heard about the failed attempts, numerous failed attempts in some cases. The two men discussing the Nobel Prize on the radio gushed about the miraculous technology and explained for the audience the basic process of retrieving, fertilizing, and transplanting the egg. Their commentary was full of wide-eyed wonder. But there was no mention of the drugs, the pain, the expense, the heartache, and I felt that they only told a fraction of the story.

I try to keep perspective and not allow any lingering bitterness about my own infertility to taint my opinion, but that’s impossible. I can’t unknow what I know, and yes, IVF has had a positive impact on millions of women, but it’s been a detriment to many more. Unfortunately, that side of the story is still seldom told.

Whiny Wednesday

I probably should have let my husband write this post as he’d tell it more honestly than me, and he might also garner a little sympathy, but he’s not available so I’m writing it myself. The fact is, I’m grumpy. I’m shirty, short-tempered, intolerant, cranky, and apparently I am in the habit of biting off people’s heads. There’s a reason for all this I suppose, but writing it makes it sound like nonsense. Still, for the sake of honesty, I’ll tell you.

I have my Mum in town for 6 weeks. I love having her here. She comes every year. I know how this works. I want to spend as much time as possible with her while she’s here and my schedule is flexible (plus I don’t have children), so I can. This doesn’t, however mean that I can take a six-week vacation! And this is where my grumpiness comes from. I need to work, I want to work, I want to spend time with Mum, so the work gets pushed aside and then I get stressed when I realize I haven’t done anything and I have a deadline (like this blog that I committed to posting on daily) and then I get grumpy when things don’t get done.

I know, poor me, and yes, I know I makes no sense, but it is Whiny Wednesday so I thought I’d take advantage and get it off my chest.

Finding My Passion Again

Two Champion Cyclists!

This past weekend I took part in a big organized bike event. Along with my husband, mother, and some good friends, I pedaled my old Trek through 35 miles of beautiful Wine Country. It was a tough ride and I wasn’t quite as fit as I should have been, but still, I made it up the grueling two-mile-long hill, down the wild descent on the other side, and then turned around and went back over the same hill—wild climb up and grueling two-miles down! By the end I was exhausted, ready for the complimentary cold beer and mountain of paella, a hot shower and a long nap. And I did all of those things and THEN went out for beer and fish and chips with my family and friends. It was a fantastic day.

The ride reminded me how much I love biking and running, how much I used to enjoy training and participating in events. Somewhere in the mess of trying to become a mother, I lost sight of this. The ride inspired me to do more, to find other events and train to participate. And I can do that. I can get up early and go for runs; I can take an entire Saturday morning to go for a long training bike ride; and then I can do an all-day event and conk out on the couch in peace for the rest of the afternoon.  In short, I can do the things that please me, because the only other person I have to consider is my husband, and he’s a big boy who can choose to come along with me or stay home and entertain himself. Right now, I am grateful for this freedom to do something good for myself.

What about you? Over the years, what have you pushed aside that used to make you happy?  What haven’t you done for a long time that you could do now? And what would it take to do those things again?

It Got Me Thinking…About Tax Refunds

As in any election year, we’re hearing a lot about taxes and fixing our schools…and that got me thinking. I have no issue with paying taxes. I like that our government takes care of things like maintaining roads and bridges, supporting our armed services, providing social services, and running arguably the fairest judicial system in the world. And back in the days when I was certain kids were in my future, I didn’t see a problem with supporting public schools with my tax dollars. Now, however, I feel kind of cheated. Since I won’t be sending any kids to public school, I’m kind of pissed about having to support other peoples’ offspring. In fact, I’d like a refund.

 

Do you think it’s fair that childfree people have to contribute funds to public schools? And what did you invest in pre–LWB days for which you’d now like a refund?

 

 

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. Her articles have appeared in AAA’s Westways, GRIT, Real Simple, and 805 Living magazines. Read “How to Be the World’s Best Aunt Ever” on eHow.com.

Mom Clothes? No Thanks!

I just received a new clothing catalog in the mail from a company I’ve never heard of before. (How do I get on these lists?) Thumbing through, I realized that every other model was posing in a scene of family bliss—staggeringly good looking husband and adorable cherub-like child, faithful family dog and adorable cherub-like child, or idyllic home and (you guessed it) adorable cherub-like child. AND the models were all tiny skinny things who didn’t look old enough to have a brood of cherub-like kids. It was like playing Where’s Waldo? looking for myself in there.

The good news in all this is that I hated the clothes. There wasn’t one thing I even remotely liked in the catalog. They were mom clothes and as I am not a mom I don’t feel the need to wear gaudy print smocks and modest necked sweaters. Another perk of being a non-mom.

Now to get myself off this mailing list.