Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

“Celebrating” Nine Years of Childlessness

By Lisa Manterfield

This month marks eight years since I wrote the first post for Life Without Baby. It will be nine years since I acknowledged that I would not be a mother by any means.

Nine years sounds like a really long time, doesn’t it? But I have passed so many milestones on the way to getting where I am now.

First there was the decision to get off the fertility crazy train. I passed that milestone several times, each time hopping back onboard for one more try. Eventually, I passed it for the last time. I cancelled my next doctor appointment and never went back.

I passed another milestone when I stopped envying/hating/coveting every pregnant belly I saw. I have since held other people’s babies, made it through Mother’s Days without tears, and gone shopping for baby shower gifts. Each was a significant milestone.

Eventually, after a number of years, I stopped being so sad about all I’d missed out on. I started building a new life and taking advantage of the benefits of not having children.

Nine years ago, I could never have imagined I’d look at my life, see how completely different it would have been with children, and feel satisfied that things worked out well after all. I hadn’t even known that milestone would be there until I passed it one day about a year ago.

None of this came easily. I went through dark periods of grief, of feeling angry and resentful. I’ve felt horribly lonely and alienated from people with “normal” lives. I’ve been in turns bitter, embarrassed, defiant, even vengeful about being infertile and childless. I’ve also felt relief and even slightly smug.

And after these nine years, I feel acceptance of my life that way it is, an understanding that when the motherhood door closed for me, others opened (although I sometimes didn’t see them at first.) I like my life just the way it is.

Maybe you can see yourself at one of these milestones. Maybe you’re making peace with the hand you’ve been dealt, maybe you’re moving on with a different kind of life, too.

If you see yourself all the way at the beginning of this post, wondering how on earth you’re ever going to be okay again, hang in there. You’re not alone. I, and many other readers on this site, are here to tell you that it does get better in time. Most likely, it will take longer than you ever imagined, but from my experience, the end result will also be better than you could have possibly foreseen.

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Now for the Celebration

The other surprise outcome of my infertility is that I have written books about it. That was never part of my plan either. (I had always hoped to write fiction someday, which I have, but writing about infertility was an unexpected and rewarding detour.)

I wrote about my infertility journey and my decision to stop trying to be a mother in my first book, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No the Motherhood.  Then, after blogging my way through coming-to-terms with that decision and dealing with the loss, I wrote a guidebook to help other navigate their way. That book is Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.

To celebrate this blog-i-versary, both books are on sale in ebook format for only $2.99 (and a comparable price in other currencies) for the entire month of March.

AmazonKobo
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AmazonKobo
Add to Goodreads

 

And now I’d like to ask a small favor. If you’ve read either of these books and found them helpful, would you take a minute and leave a review on your bookseller site of choice? It need only be a couple of sentences about what you liked (or what you didn’t, if that’s the case), but it will really help others looking for this sort of book, and of course, it would be a huge help to me. You can click on the links above and they’ll take you where you need to go.

Whiny Wednesday: Infertility Amnesia


A friend of mine went through infertility hell a few years ago. When we learned of one another’s journeys, we were both glad to have an empathetic shoulder to lean on.

Then she became a mother, and developed infertility amnesia.

I’m not begrudging her the celebrations, the constant Facebook posts, or the incessant parenting talk. I get it; I’m sure I’d do the same in her situation. But the final straw came last week.

A group of us gets together about once a year and we’re starting to plan for this year. We usually go out for dinner, or bowling, or drinks and dancing. Several of us in the group don’t have children and those who do are always glad for a childfree night of adult fun.

This year, the new mom suggested we change things up and do something family-oriented and include the kids. “Maybe a beach picnic or Disneyland.” I kid you not.

Thankfully one of the other parents shot the idea down, but I had to wonder how she would have felt five years ago, in the thick of her infertility hell, if someone had made this same suggestion.

She would have felt excluded and she would have been upset. Which is just how I felt when I got her email.

Today is Whiny Wednesday. Who or what has done you wrong this week?

What Do You Wish You’d Known About Life Without Children?

By Lisa Manterfield

I try not to drag regrets around with me. It doesn’t help to dwell on how things might have turned out differently when it’s too late to do anything about it. But sometimes, there are things I wish I’d known before I’d hung my heart on the idea of having children.

I wish I’d know how common fertility issues are.

I wish I’d known what questions to ask at the very start of our journey.

I wish I’d known where to find real support.

I wish I’d known how valuable that support, once I found it, would be.

I wish I’d had a wise mentor to help me see logic when my poor emotionally-addled brain couldn’t make sense of anything.

I wish we had talked more about how long we’d try, how far we’d go, and what we would do if it didn’t happen for us.

And I wish I’d known that we would be okay as a family of two.

What do you wish you’d known before the start of your journey?

Whiny Wednesday: Valentine’s Day

 

Last Wednesday was Valentine’s Day and I completely neglected to do a Whiny Wednesday post. (Thank you, Jane, for the reminder.)

Although my relationship with Mr. Fab survived our infertility, Valentine’s Day for us has become another holiday that’s lost its luster. For the most part, we ignore it.

I know it can be a difficult day (or week) for many of you, so even though it’s a little late, this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is:

Valentine’s Day

And, by the way, if you have any tips for how you approach this day, please share it here for readers who might be struggling.

I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood is a Goodreads giveaway this week. Check out Goodreads.com for your chance to win signed copy.

Why Childlessness Does Not Make Me Less of a Woman

Women having fun at Golden Gate Bridge

By Lisa Manterfield

“I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.”

~Anaïs Nin

There’s an idea going around that not having children somehow makes us “less of a woman.” I don’t subscribe to this idea.

As this quote by author Anaïs Nin states, I am many, many women, and “mother” is only one element of me.

I am a writer, friend, wife, cat mama, reader, thinker, curser, fighter, nature-lover, spider catcher, traveler, cook.

All these women are fluid. They ebb and flow in me as needed. And when one of them isn’t able to fulfill her purpose, the others quickly rally to fill the gap, so I am always whole.

I am never less of a woman.

Whiny Wednesday: Pressure to be Amazing


Often we feel pressure to do something incredible with our lives because we won’t be doing the other “incredible” thing: being mothers.

In the past it’s sparked some healthy discussion, so I thought I’d use it as this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling the pressure to do something else amazing instead

Let the healthy discussion begin!

Three Things You Love About You

Bride in car with orange flowers

By Lisa Manterfield

Valentine’s Day can be challenging, full of triggers and missed experiences and what-ifs. So as thoughts turn to love this week, I want to ask you the same question I ask every year around this time:

“What are three things you love about yourself?”

A friend asked me this once, and I was shocked to find myself stumbling over my answer. I couldn’t even name one thing.

I think many us (especially we women) were raised to be modest, not boastful. We often have no problem telling someone else what we admire in them, but can’t then turn the spotlight on ourselves. And even when we do, we can so often point out all the areas for improvement rather than the good things we see in ourselves.

Fortunately for me, my friend is persistent, and she wouldn’t let me off the hook. So here are three things I love about myself:

      1. I’m honest.
      2. I will always stick up for the underdog.
      3. I am not a quitter.

So I challenge you now. What are three things you love about yourself?

Whiny Wednesday: Being Lonely Without Children


Some years ago, a young relative asked why I didn’t have children. I gave him an explanation that was honest, while also being appropriate for a young boy.

And then he asked me, “But won’t you be lonely?”

To this I responded that I had Mr. Fab and that I’d be fine. But actually, I think he may have hit a nerve, because even though I value the quiet time I have, sometimes it can feel a little lonely.

It’s Whiny Wednesday, what truths have hit a nerve with you?

How Did You Know it Was Time to Stop Pursuing Motherhood?

Woman waiting for sunrise

By Lisa Manterfield

Last year I had the pleasure of doing a podcast interview with Cathy at Slow Swimmers and Fried Eggs. We had an excellent conversation and covered the gamut of topics from the shock of realizing we were infertile to the unexpected benefits of living childfree. One of the questions she asked about my “lightbulb” moment, that one event or conversation or realization that told me I had to stop pursuing my quest for motherhood.

There were several moments that I wrote about in detail in I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home. These were moments when I knew, deep down, that I had to stop treatment and had to find a way to move on without children.

The first was when I was sitting at a bus stop on my way home from my third doctor appointment of the week. I realized that getting pregnant had become a full-time job and that it was consuming every aspect of my life. Case in point, I don’t even remember why I was taking the bus (two buses, actually) to my appointments, but I do remember that this had become my habit. I can picture myself now, staring out the bus window, almost in a trance, so wrapped up my world of infertility, I was barely aware of my actions. I knew then I had lost touch with reality and myself.

Another point came not long after Mr. Fab realized that adoption wasn’t going to be a viable option for us. This really should have been the stopping point, but before long I found myself in the infertility section of the bookstore, browsing a book by a doctor who had performed fertility miracles through Chinese Medicine. I bought the book, even though we’d already traveled far down that road. When I mentioned it to Mr. Fab, he said all the right, supportive things, but I saw his face drop for a moment. I knew that he was wrung out, that he had reached the end of his journey, and that I should have been at the end of mine, too. But by the end of that week, I had an appointment with the miracle doctor and I was back on the bus, both literally and figuratively.

One of my last lightbulb moments came when Mr. Fab’s first grandchild was born. That passing of the motherhood torch to the next generation served to tell me that it was time for my journey to end. I had done all I could, motherhood wasn’t going to happen for me, and I had to let it go.

In between these events, and even after I was sure I would not be a mother, there were many moments of doubt, of second-guessing, of what-ifs. But for every step backwards, I took two steps forward toward recovery, and then three, and then four, until the backward slips became fewer and eventually stopped.

I imagine each of you has a similar story of realization and doubts. What were your “lightbulb” moments and how did you finally know it was time to stop?

You can list to my interview with Cathy here.

 

Whiny Wednesday: Parenting is the Hardest Job in the World

Kathleen has been on fire with the Whiny Wednesday suggestions lately. This week’s is a good one, so I’ll just leave it here for you to do with it as you please:

“Parenting is the hardest job in the world”