Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Mothers who don’t like children

One of my mother’s friends is the kind of woman you can talk to about anything. She’s frank, honest, non-judgmental, and has a wicked sense of humor. We got talking today about adoption and the experiences (ok, the horror stories) we’d seen with friends. She said to me, “I don’t think I would have adopted if I’d been unable to have children; I don’t like children that much.” She has raised two great children and is a grandmother now, but she never had felt any strong desire for motherhood; it was just something she thought she was supposed to do.

My mother’s friend, like my mother, is of a generation where women got married and raised children, then thought about a life for themselves after the children had left. But even today, a lot of people follow that expected path and don’t give any serious thought to something that ought to be the biggest decision of their lives. High school children are educated about teen pregnancy by having the responsibility of carrying an egg or a doll around for a week, but I wonder how much is discussed about the decision to have children or not, the fact that there is an alternative.

For those of us who didn’t just fall into motherhood, we have been given a valuable opportunity to step out of the well-worn groove, assess our own lives, and decide if motherhood is something we really want.

Whiny Wednesday

Recently a friend told me that her colleague had once justified not pulling her weight at work by saying, “Well, you don’t have children, so it’s no problem for you to work late.”

Why is it that for some people no children=no life outside the workplace? Have you been in a situation where a colleague has used his or her children to justify preferential treatment? Or have you worked in a place where parents are expected to always put their work before their family. What are your thoughts?

Can you spot a childfree woman?

I recently got the chance to meet a friend of my aunt’s, who I’d heard plenty about. This woman would not fall into the category of physically attractive, with her purple puffy eyes and facial hair that would rival either of my brothers. But she was a feisty old bird. She held my attention in a conversation and I could see the gumption and grit in her personality, despite her old and slowed down body. I’d heard she was a force to be reckoned with, and I’d also heard her described as an old busybody. I could see where she could be a complete pain in the rear, but I also really enjoyed the short interaction we had. She was interesting.

I also knew instinctively that this was a woman who had never married and never had children. How? Was it the hardness about her that hadn’t been softened by nurturing for little ones? No. I’d seen that hardness in other mothers. Was it that independent spirit that was still strong from never having to consider the needs of anyone else? Possibly, although I have an 65-year-old uncle who is a bachelor and he has none of this woman’s drive. So, what was it?

Have you had the experience of instinctively knowing that someone doesn’t have children. What was it that alerted you? Do you even know? And if so, is it just we childless women that can instinctively pick out our own kind, or do we stand out in a crowd?

Food for thought. What do you think?

Not Exactly Lonely

 

My young nephew has no qualms about asking the most personal questions, and he’s so earnest and compassionate that usually I can’t help but give him an honest response. He’s asked why I don’t have any children, and also what happened to my first husband. I’ve told him the truth in both cases and he’s appreciated that, as far as I can tell.

Recently he asked, “Don’t you and Jose get lonely without any children.”

“No,” I told him. “We have lots of friends, and we have Felicity, our cat, plus we have lots of nieces and nephews.”

Somehow though, this response didn’t seem to satisfy him. Perhaps because it doesn’t satisfy me either. Do I get lonely because I don’t have children? Not really. Most of the time I wish I had more time alone with my own thoughts, rather than less, but do I feel a sense of loneliness sometimes, even when I’m around other people? I do. Sometimes.

Sometimes I feel that the connections I have with others are more tenuous than they would be with a child. My brothers have their own children and, while we’re still close, our connections have weakened as the bond with their children has grown. Somewhere inside me is a tiny empty hole that nothing can fill. Most of the time I’m not even aware of it, it’s so small. But every now and then I’ll experience a melancholy sensation that feels like loneliness and feels as if it could only be filled with children.

Win Carrie Friedman’s Pregnant Pause Today!

The winner will be drawn at the end of today. To qualify for the drawing, just leave a comment on Carrie’s post.

I loved this book and it’s a must-read whether you’ve ever considered having children or not. It should also be required reading for all parents!

How Old is Too Old To Give Birth?

Kelly Preston and John Travolta are expecting. She is 47 and the media is already talking about her “miracle baby.” While Ms. Preston is nowhere near to being the oldest woman to give birth (that honor goes to a 70-year-old Indian woman who gave birth to twins in 2008) it does raise the question: How old is too old?

Last year a Spanish woman who lied about her age to obtain IVF treatments died at aged 69. She left behind two-year-old twins who are now orphans.

These stories are extreme, of course, but how old is too old to have a baby? Just because the technology is available, should we use it? What do you think?

Does This Make Me Look Pregnant?

 

I went shopping for clothes yesterday. It doesn’t happen very often, but I was in the mood and in need of some warmer weather things. These days, my primary concern when shopping for clothes is: does this make me look pregnant?

I once made the mistake of wearing this fabulous African print mu-mu. Jose and I went out wine-tasting one hot summer night and I slipped into it for comfort. A woman (albeit a very drunk one) took one look at me sipping on my fruity red and said, “Should you be drinking?” I was confused at first, until she helped me out by looking down at my belly (which, granted could have used a few hundred crunches) and saying, “You know, in your condition.” That was a truly awful moment in so many ways, and even though the woman was TOTALLY out of line (even if I was pregnant, it’s no business of hers if I chose to have a glass of wine) since then I’ve been very careful about what I wear.

There’s been a trend lately in those little baby doll tops that poof out from just below the bra line. What were those designers thinking? Who can actually wear those without looking pregnant? Not me, that’s for sure. So I picked out from pants, flat fronted, of course and a couple of tops with no gathers, frills, or bunches that could cause them to be mistaken for maternity wear. Because even though I have no problem answering, “No, I’m just fat!” if someone is tactless enough to ask, I don’t even want to crack open the door on that conversation.

Guilty of Prejudice Against the Childless

A friend recently announced her engagement. At 44 she is getting married at last. I know this woman’s story intimately. She is someone who dreamed of motherhood, but never met the right man. She seriously considered having a baby alone using a sperm donor, but realized that it wouldn’t be the responsible thing to do in her situation. So she started making peace with her childlessness. Then she met a wonderful man—and realized that what she really wanted was a loving adult relationship and time with him, and that children were no longer her priority. And he didn’t want children anyway.

When she announced her engagement to me, she speculated as to how long it would be before some tactless bozo raised the subject of kids. To my absolute horror, I realized that during our entire conversation I was wondering if the engagement had changed their attitude about having children. The tactless bozo was very nearly me!!!

So, despite my thoroughly modern, feminist attitude to living child-free, deep inside of me lurks a traditionalist, who at some subconscious level still believes that first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage. Yikes!

Our natural instinct is to reproduce and continue the survival of the species, so it’s no wonder that so many people can’t get their heads around someone’s decision to not reproduce. Maybe we need to cut those people some slack after all.

Or maybe not. Because, while man cannot fight his natural instinct, evolved man can learn when to voice his opinions and when to keep his (or her) big mouth shut.

Issues for Childless Men

My husband’s cousin recently commented that she would never become a grandmother because her only surviving son was gay. Her comment then prompted my husband to ask me if this website included gay men in its audience. The whole interchange inspired several threads of discussion regarding potential grandparents, modern families, and whether this site was a place that childless men would come, or if the female readers would be as open if men were lingering around. All this is material for future posts, but the thought that bubbled to the surface this time was: What about childless men? Which of the same issues do men and women face and are there other issues that are unique to men?

My husband has grown children from his previous marriage, so I’m not able to ask him about being childless, although he’s more than able to talk about the frustrations of infertility and of having a wife who is unable to have the children she wants. So, for those of you with male partners, what issues do you think men face? Do they feel the same pressure from family? Do their friends (and complete strangers) ask the same tactless questions? Do men feel the same sense of loss that we women sometimes feel. And is it easier for a man to make the decision to be childless?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this subject.