filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be speaking with Brian Lehrer on WNYC tomorrow (Thursday April 2) on the topic of being childless-not-by-choice. This is a companion piece to the segment he did earlier this week with Meghan Daum on choosing to be childfree.
My segment airs around 10:50am EST. You can also tune in online here, and he’ll be taking calls for the show. I’ll also post the recording once it’s available.
~ Lisa
I’m currently enjoying a journey into menopause. Yeah, it’s a hoot. All the symptoms of PMS, plus fuzzy head, weight gain, night sweats, the works.
I’ve been prescribed HRT and I’ve been reaching out to older friends for advice, because there’s a lot about this I don’t know. Most of my friends have gladly offered support, however one woman (a friend of a friend) looked at me and said, “Menopause? You’re too young for that.”
I assured her I was not, and left the conversation, but really, is that a helpful thing to say? Yes, I know I’m too young for menopause. Add it to the list of things my body’s given up before its time. And then ask me how I feel about the possibility the rest of me might be aging faster than it should too. Does this ever end?
As you may have guessed, it’s Whiny Wednesday. I feel better for my venting. Hope you feel better for yours.
P.S. This in NO April Fool’s joke, believe me.
I was approached recently by a High School Student looking for help with a State Science Fair project to determine if parents and dog owners possess similar personality traits. He needs to include non-parents in his research and asked if I would help recruit participants.
I’ve taken the survey myself to make sure the questions are appropriate for us and to make sure I’m not asking you to spend hours answering questions. Basically, you take a simple personality quiz and then answer a few short questions. You then get to see the results of the personality quiz, which I always find enlightening.
If you can spare a few minutes to take the survey, you can find information about the project here and then follow the links to the survey or go directly to it here.
Thanks so much for helping.
By Lisa Manterfield
This is absolutely my favorite time of year. The madness (and sometimes, sadness) of the holidays is behind us and it’s time to look forward to a brand new year.
I love the New Year. I love making plans, taking a little time to do some walking and dreaming, creating a picture of what I want my life to look like the following year. I always set some pretty lofty goals and sometimes I even reach them! But the thrill for me is not in checking accomplishments off my list (although I enjoy that, too) but in taking a deep breath and realigning my life to how I’d like it to be.
Among the cards I received over the holidays were a several (I was surprised how many) photo cards from friends who are also childfree. I really enjoyed seeing their adventures and travels, and although I’ll admit to a touch of envy, I was also glad to see photographic evidence that these women had worked their way through their loss and grief and were living life to the fullest again. Their photos also prompted me to move some of my old passions (travel and hiking, for example) higher up my list next year.
If you’re in the thick of grief, looking ahead to a rosy future can feel impossible, and even when the healing begins, you can sometimes find that you’ve lost touch with who you really are and who you’d like to be again.
One of the most encouraging weeks during one of last year’s support calls was after we’d discussed the topic of finding yourself again. So many participants said they’d pushed aside old passions during the baby quest, and it was so fun to see all the amazing things people had once loved to do that were about to be dusted off again. Some people loved singing, reading, writing, traveling, even trampolining. Their ideas made me think about bringing some of my own former hobbies back into my life again. I’d like to encourage you to do the same.
If you’re thinking there’s no way you’re getting on a pair of rollerskates again, I suggest thinking about how your old favorite hobby made you feel; what was it about rollerskating (for example) that you loved so much. Is there a way to recreate those old feelings in a new hobby? If your rollerskates gave you freedom and if you loved the feel of the wind in your hair, can you get that by riding a bike or taking a long drive with the windows open?
As we step into this brand new year, I encourage you to think about the “you” that got lost and to look for ways to find her again.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Over the past couple of months, it feels like childfree women have been stepping out of the shadows and speaking up—quite publicly. Several friends have asked me, “What do you think of all this?”
I think the question should be, “How do you feel?” and my answer would include: supported, acknowledged, comforted, encouraged, vindicated, empowered.
I applaud these women for making their—and our—voices heard. I am encouraged that, in doing so, they negate the shame so many of us have been forced to feel for our choices and/or our circumstances. I think, as a society, we are making good progress.
Here’s a sampling of some of the articles. If you have come across other good news, please share links in the Comments.
Jennifer Aniston on Pressure to Have Kids: “It’s rude, insulting, and ignorant”
I’m 40. I Don’t Want to Be a Mom. Now What?
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
By Lisa Manterfield
Ever since I was as young girl besotted by the weekly children’s program “Record Breakers”, I’ve had a dream of making it into the Guinness Book of World Records. I’d fantasize about some of the crazy things I could do, given that I wasn’t born exceptionally tall or flexible or fast.
As the years passed, I let go of this childish fantasy and got on with life, but last year, in the middle of re-evaluating my life and setting some fun goals for myself, I created a Bucket List. Along with becoming a New York Times Best Seller (currently working on this) and growing my hair long one last time (working on this also), I included “Be a Guinness World Record Holder” on my list. Then, last summer I got the chance to go for that goal.
I attended the World Domination Summit in Portland and participated in the Great Namaste, an attempt to break the record for the world’s longest yoga chain. You can see the video of the event here.
WDS 2014 | The Great Namaste from Chris Guillebeau on Vimeo.
We succeeded in beating the existing record, but we still had to wait for verification from Guinness. Four months later, we got the news. We did it. I was officially a World Record Holder. And to prove it, I could order (for a small fee) a certificate of accomplishment.
I was so excited at the prospect of have my World Record Holder certificate, but as I sat down to place my order, I had a thought. “What’s the point? What am I going to do with this certificate?”
If I were a mother, I’d do it for my kids. I’d be excited and proud. Maybe my kids would have taken me and my certificate to Show and Tell, where I could have shared what I’d learned about setting and achieving goals, no matter how far-fetched, and about the importance of making life fun.
But I don’t have that.
I sat there imagining my certificate arriving. Maybe I’d show it to Mr. Fab and maybe he’d be appropriately impressed, but then what? Would I frame it and hang it on my wall? Or would I stuff it in a drawer and forget about it?
I almost canceled the order, but then I thought, “Sod it!” I don’t need to do this for anyone else but me. I’m proud of me and that’s enough. Yes, maybe it will get stuffed in a box, but maybe when I’m old I’ll look back fondly and remember that day. Maybe whoever gets to rummage through my stuff when I’m gone will find it and be surprised. Who knows? And who cares?
I remember writing somewhere once, “I’m not dead; I’m infertile” and I need to remember that mantra. Just because I didn’t have children doesn’t mean I don’t still get to have a life. And when I look back on that life, I want it to be full and amazing—officially or otherwise.
Can you believe this is the last Wednesday of 2014? This year has just flown by. This means it’s also the last Whiny Wednesday of the year.
I’m going to open the floor for all whines today, but wanted to add one extra consideration. If you were visiting this site at this time last year, what’s changed for you? Are there things you would have whined about then that don’t affect you in the same way now? Can you see improvements in your outlook on life? Are there things you’re less tolerant of now than you were last year?
Enjoy your whining and I’ll look forward to seeing you here next year.
Happy New Year!
By Lisa Manterfield
Lily sent me a wonderful blog post that I wanted to share with you as we go into the New Year. It begins with this quote:
“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives… not looking for flaws, but for potential.”
I really relate to this quote because, in the past, this is exactly how I’ve approached the New Year. I’ve gone room-to-room looking for all the things wrong with me and resolving to fix them in the New Year. Come year-end, I’d look at my goals for the previous January and inevitably find that I’d fallen short, let myself down yet again. So, I’d resolve to do better the next year, to make it the year I improved myself.
I’m not sure whether it’s facing the reality of infertility that’s made me realize there are things about me that just cannot be fixed, or if I’ve just reached an age where I’ve decided to be kinder to myself. Whichever it is, I’ve adopted a new philosophy about New Year’s resolutions.
I no longer resolve to fix my flaws. I’m not going to aim to lose weight or organize my house or try to be more stylish. Nor am I going to compare myself to others—especially women with children—and find myself falling short. I am who I am and, even though I’m far from perfect, I don’t need to be fixed.
Instead I’m looking for ways to tap my potential and be the best version of me I can be. Instead of resolving to be who I’m not, I will try to nurture the best of who I am. I will set goals that point me in the direction I’d like my life to go and not worry about whether the “me” that arrives there is perfect.
As you head into the New Year, will you be making resolutions or setting goals? If so, are you being kind to yourself or are you treating yourself like something that’s broken and needs to be fixed?
My mailbox is feeling bloated. No sooner did the election junk mail end than the holiday catalog avalanche began.
I’ll admit I do get a degree of pleasure trying to figure out how I got onto some of the more obscure mailing lists. But I also want to know why I get so much kid-oriented marketing material. Someone clearly has not been doing their demographic homework.
Which bring me to this week’s topic:
People who assume you have children
It’s Whiny Wednesday. I deprived you last week, so feel free to air your post-Thanksgiving grievances, too.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Every day, Tinney Davidson sits in her front living room and waves to students as they pass on their way to school, and they wave back. It’s become “a thing.” This past Valentine’s Day, the students decided to recognize her with a special assembly.
If you haven’t already seen the story, check it out here.
There’s no mention of children or grandchildren in the video clip, so I started to check to see if she is childfree, to see if I could feature her on our site as a chero (a hero who happens to be childfree). Then I thought, It doesn’t matter! This is a wonderful story about a wonderful lady who takes care of many children, who is generous with her wave and her smile, who offers daily kindness and encouragement. Chero or hero, she is doing good on earth, and she inspires me.
Let’s all take a hint from Tinney. Wave, share a smile, and make someone’s day a little brighter. I bet this will make you feel a bit happier too.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
~ "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."
