filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
It’s Whiny Wednesday! Finally! I’ve been waiting all week to have a good whine. I thought we’d play the three-word sentence game again this week. You know the rules. You can whine about anything at all, as long as you use sentences of three words.
Here’s my gripe for the week.
So flipping tired. Giant long list. Guest arrives tonight. Bed won’t fit. Must move bookcase. One more time. Fridge is empty. Add to list. Need a vacation. Not happening soon. Bed early tonight.
Gripe on, sisters!
Pamela over on the Silent Sorority blog is putting together a directory of sites relating to childless and childfree living. I’m going to be checking these out over the coming weeks and sharing some of the posts with you here.
If you have a favorite blog or website (other than this one, of course!) relating to living childless or childfree, please share it below, so we can all take a look.
I found this article on More.com recently. It’s one of those that really makes you scratch your head at first read, and I think the author gives some sound advice.
This woman wants children badly and is wondering if she should marry and reproduce with a man whose “jealousy and insecurity issues” as well his drug-use history are giving her cause for concern. Even as I was reading the article I was yelling, “No!!!!” at my computer. But when I read it again today, I see it slightly differently. The woman is 44, watching her window of fertility close, and looking at this man as her last hope for motherhood. I’m still yelling “No!” but I’m no longer adding, “Are you insane?”
I think it’s fairly safe to say that every one reading this blog has given a lot of thought to the reproduction decision. There are those of us who made firm decisions that we didn’t want children, and those of us who wanted children and either weren’t able or weren’t in a situation into which we wanted to bring children. Whatever our situation, we’ve given a lot of consideration to what being a parent entails, and probably a lot more than many people who bring children into the world.
Surprisingly enough I understand why this woman is even considering this option of bringing a child into what is, at best, a rocky relationship. That fertility window is like the old sash windows in my house: it stays open of its own accord for a good long time, but once it starts to close, it comes crashing down like a guillotine. I can understand why she’s grabbing at the nearest sperm-producing straw. But you can see the disaster written all over this scenario, can’t you? The only saving grace is that she too is questioning the wisdom of this move. Hurray for that, at least.
I’m ovulating. The fact that my body continues to go through this useless motion is of little consequence, other than the fact that my hormones go wild and I click into nesting mode, cleaning and tidying everything in sight. For someone as disorganized as me, it’s useful to have this happen once a month, and especially so this month.
I am preparing for the Royal Visit, otherwise known as my mother’s annual trip to stay with us for about five weeks. As I work from a home office and we live in a small two-bedroom house, this means I have to convert my office into a guest room, while still leaving a small corner in which I can continue to work.
It’s a nightmare, self-inflicted, but no less horrendous. Yesterday I threw out six bags of papers, today I boxed up everything that I can live without for the next month-and-a-half, and the rest is in a pile in the middle of the floor, awaiting my decision regarding its fate. I’m thinking that if I don’t look at it, it will just go away, but I know that come Wednesday morning, I’ll be stuffing it into a closet, where it will remain, probably forever.
During yesterday’s purge I came across some things: all my notes and test results from my assorted fertility-related doctors, information from two different adoption agencies, and a baby naming book, half filled in.
The whole lot went in the trash.
Not that tossing it didn’t leave a dent in my heart. It did. But it was a small dent and will heal quickly. And this is how it works. This is how we move on, one small step, one event, one reminder, one discarded memento at a time. It’s slow and it’s painful, but bit-by-bit, it works.
You’re hosting a dinner for a group of friends at your home. Some of the guests are also childfree/childless, but some have little ones. How do you deal with the friends who have kids?
[polldaddy poll=3769332]
As we’re on the subject of men this week, I thought I’d share this story as food for thought:
A friend recently commented on the young men in her office (she’s in her 50’s; she’s talking about the 20- and 30-something set.) “When I was young,” she said, “all guys talked about was sex, how, when, and with whom they were going to get lucky. Sometimes they talked about their cars, too, but their main focus was girls. These days, all the guys in my office ever talk about is technology—their phones, the hottest gadget and new fangled whatever. It’s bizarre.”
Granted, I’m sure that today’s sexual harassment laws have curbed a lot of that young male enthusiasm in the workplace, but it did get me thinking. Will technology be the demise of the human race? Are today’s young men really more interested in their phones than the opposite sex? What do you think?
Dear Spammers,
While I appreciate your need to drive business to your websites via mine, I strongly suggest you take a closer look at your keywords, or whatever nifty little high tech devices you use to identify prospective targets. Just because you often find words like INFERTILITY, BABY, and PREGNANCY among these blog posts and associated comments, you may also note that the name of this site is “Life WITHOUT Baby.” This ought to imply that neither I, nor any of my beloved readers, are interested in your egg donor agency, your express adoption plan, your foolproof tips for getting pregnant, or any of your other sordid little get-rich-quick schemes. Please bugger off and bother someone else.
With warmest regards,
Lisa
P.S. Google ads, this applies to you, too.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, Ladies. If you have anything to gripe about, now’s the time.
This month’s Oprah magazine has a feature about surviving miscarriage—from the man’s point-of view. It’s so rare that we ever hear what it’s like for men to deal with infertility, loss, or “missing the baby boat.” I think it’s easier for us women to find communities and to talk to one another openly and honestly about our feelings. Not so for men.
While I’m merrily discussing my infertility with you and pretty much anyone who’ll listen, I know that my husband is dealing with it by not dealing with it. In time, if properly ignored, it will somehow go away. I’ve been hashing out my emotions in writing, sorting through my story and looking for meaning, but my husband doesn’t want to read anything I write. He says he doesn’t want to have to relive it all again.
We all deal with things differently and what works for one person doesn’t always work for another, but I wonder if the men involved in our stories are getting what they need to heal. Where does your spouse/partner go for help? Does he go anywhere? Would he benefit from having somewhere safe to go to talk, or is that not how he deals with problems?
Our men may be from Mars, rather than our own planet of Venus, but we’re all hurtling around the same crazy solar system.
This morning, a close friend sent me Kyran Pittman’s blog posting “Advice for a Teenage Daughter I Will Never Have.” It got me thinking.
I used to fantasize about how I’d raise my children to be good humans. Along with my DNA, I’d share with them my passion for reading and love of team sports. I’d encourage them to invest a portion of each check from their summer life-guarding and part-time retail jobs, so that after college they’d already have a nest egg that would allow them to pursue careers in the arts, backpack through Asia, get into the housing market, or at least not starve while toiling away as a junior executive’s junior assistant.
I’m a font of wisdom earned from 44 years of life experience. Now, it seems, because I’m not a mother, no one is interested in hearing from me. Do you feel that way? If you had children, what advice would you give them? And since you don’t, what advice are you now taking to heart for yourself?
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.
I just finished reading Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos’ book, Silent Sorority: A (Barren) Woman Get Busy, Angry, Lost and Found. I give it two very enthusiastic thumbs up! With class, dignity, and humor (oh, yes, and an appropriate amount of bile), Pamela not only tells her own story of infertility, but is able to step back and provide an intelligent social commentary on our mommy-centric culture and what it’s like to be childless-not-by-choice when everyone around you is baby-mad.
As I read her story, I found myself slapping my forehead, thinking, “I did that too,” and I realized what I wish I’d known long ago, that I was not alone on my own journey. As Pamela says, infertile women “were everywhere, but nowhere.”
What makes Pamela’s book stand out from other infertility stories I’ve read is that (aside from her not “giving up on treatments and suddenly having a miracle pregnancy”) she talks about the “what now?” how she gained acceptance and found a place for herself in the world.
This is one of those books that I wish I could give to people I know to read. It’s a book that says, “This is what I went through, this is why I was behaving that way back then, but you know what? I’m okay now.”
If you haven’t read this book, put it on your list. It’s an eye-opener. And while Pamela might not yet have all the answers to our questions, she’s starting the conversation about living childless/childfree, and giving us a voice.
You can find Silent Sorority in print at:
Or as an e-book from:
Borders (via Kobo)
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
