Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Whiny Wednesday: An Explanation


Whiny Wednesday has become such a favorite on the blog and I know that many of you look forward to the chance to have a good rant about what’s on your mind.

For those of you who are new to Life Without Baby or maybe not sure what this Whiny Wednesday thing is all about, I thought an brief explanation might be in order.

Whiny Wednesday came about because many of us felt we were going through our respective journeys alone and that our friends and family often didn’t understand how much we were hurting. Many readers said felt they felt they had to put on a brave face around other people and that the things they wanted to talk about sometimes felt like “whining.”

So, Whiny Wednesday was created as the place where, once a week, you can come and vent about whatever’s on your mind, especially the things you feel you can’t say in-person around others. Most weeks I post a topic for discussion, but the comments are always open for griping about whatever happens to be on your mind.

So, now you know what it’s all about, feel free the have a really good whine this week.

Finding Your Old Self After Infertility

By Lisa Manterfield

At this point in my life, I can truly say I at peace with not having children. But for a long time there were days when the darkness came over me. Do you know what I mean?

Ordinarily, the darkness was a tiny ball that I carried it around with me wherever I went. It was safely tucked away and I didn’t even notice it. Then something would happen to flip the lid and suddenly the darkness crept into every open space within me.

I got tired of carrying the darkness around and finally I was ready to let it go. I didn’t want to feel bitter or sad about not having children, because honestly, I was okay. But I couldn’t remember who I was any more. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t see me. I saw a woman who looked tired and overweight, and very, very serious about life. She didn’t laugh easily or live with abandon, like the real me used to. She was cautious and unwilling to let herself go. She felt like a square peg in a world full of round holes and it was lonely to live that way.

Our experiences make us who we are, but what happens to who we were? In a universe where energy remains constant, I knew that the old me — the laughing, carefree joyous me — must still have been around. I’d catch glimpses of her sometimes, and like a huntress, I’d follow her into the woods. And yet, so often, she managed to evade me.

But I was patient. I kept an eye on her and kept moving towards her. I kept hunting her, until I caught up with her again. And finally, she I were able to stand together again and let the darkness go.

Are you missing the old you? Where might you go to find her again?

 

Finding “you” and finding “joy” are topics covered in Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen. You can win a signed copy of the book on Goodreads. The giveaway ends tomorrow.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About the Invisible Losses of Childlessness (Holiday Edition)

Here in the U.S., we’re entering into another three-day-weekend to celebrate Memorial Day. This is the kind of holiday that, in my Plan A life, would have included a family picnic, a family barbecue, maybe a family outing to watch a parade, and overall a fun opportunity for my children to spend time with the many generations of our family.

So add all of the above, once again, to my list of invisible losses that come with being childfree-not-by-choice. Also on my list:

• Never being able to see my father’s, husband’s, or own eyes in another human being.

• Never having the pleasure of hearing someone say “She’s just like you at that age.”

• Never getting to throw an over-the top child’s birthday party with an ooh- and ahh-inspiring magician, balloon artist, or bubble-making machine.

• Never getting to quietly take pride in my child’s achievement.

• Never being able to watch my grown child pass on to his child the traditions, rituals, and stories I taught him.

In Living the Life Unexpected, the always spot-on Jody Day adds her own list of invisible losses followed by this line:

If you take the time to think about it all in one go, which is more than most of us are ever likely to do because of the breathtaking amount of pain involved, it’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.

“It’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.” That line took my breath away the first time I read it, and it reminds me that grieving and healing is a long and circuitous journey.

I know it’s painful. I know sometimes the “easy” route of denial is appealing. But today I encourage you to set aside some time to acknowledge what you’ve lost. The visible and not-so-visible. I think that is the first step toward letting it go.

If you need help working through the process of grieving, I encourage you to check out the many resources available to you, starting with Lisa’s book Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.

If one book or author doesn’t speak to you, don’t give up; find another. It’s what I’ve been doing, and I promise you it helps.

And wherever you are in the world, whether you’re celebrating Memorial Day or facing just another rough weekend, I hope you’ll remember that you are loved and you are not alone.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

Whiny Wednesday: Missing Out on Parenting Milestones

Graduation season is upon us and social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling left out when friends and relatives celebrate parenting milestones.

As always, your other whines are always welcome.

What Accepting Childlessness Means to Me

Guest Post, by Jane P (UK)

I first had a desire to accept—to let go of my plans for motherhood—when marriage issues and signs of depression followed six failed IVF cycles. My husband could not continue fertility treatment and I could not stop. I would not contemplate accepting infertility, as it meant a life without baby. After 17 years of marriage, the word “divorce” came up.

I asked my husband to help me accept.  He agreed to come to a counselling session with me at our local GP. There, the Counsellor asked, “What would a world look like to you if you could accept?” A simple question and my response was along these lines:

The bickering and arguments would stop. We would laugh again, we would plan again—not just plan, but look forward to things. (I felt that I had been going through the motions of life.)  I wouldn’t feel pain or anger every time I walked through the town or in the office, turned on the TV or heard a casual baby/child related comment from colleagues, friends. (Everything was a trigger. Every minute of every day I was consumed with a massive sadness that wouldn’t shift. I countered this thought for years with, “Next time we try it will be different.” It never was.)

So, I was left thinking about my reply to the question from the Counsellor. I needed to accept so that I could stop feeling the pain, I would stop arguing with my husband.  We would feel love again, enjoy life again…

I started to seek help. This came from LWB and through continuing to speak to the Counsellor. We found a way back to each other and through a final IVF treatment with donor eggs that ended with emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy. For the first two years I was tormented with wanting to try again, wanting to stop, but I’d promised myself and my husband that this was the end of the line.

Four years on, we stopped pursuing any more treatment.  I am now officially too old at 50!  So, why do I still wake up frequently and stare at the ceiling every day before forcing myself out of bed? Still ask the same questions, still feel the same sadness at the “motherhood” and baby conversations I overhear, still want to run away when a colleague makes an announcement, or leave my desk before her presentation on leaving day?

Initially, I thought acceptance would mean no more pain, looking forward to life again. Well, my marriage is back on track. I definitely look forward to things and plan fun events and holidays.  I seek to relish every day in small ways—my latte treat at 11:00, having my hair done, buying a new lipstick here and there.

The triggers are still there, though. They don’t have me running away anymore, and I counter the feelings with acknowledging the loss and rationalising that motherhood is full of difficult days as well as joyous ones. But, I still feel the pain, and recently I wondered if I have truly accepted.

The word “acceptance” conjures up a feeling that “it’s OK that I didn’t get to experience motherhood and hold my baby”.  But it’s not OK. You can’t stop the pain and it’s unrealistic to not feel the loss in some way.

So, maybe I don’t have to completely accept. Perhaps this is now what acceptance means to me:

Allowing myself to live again, letting in joy, loving my husband.  Not expecting to not feel sadness when I see pregnant women, small babies or toddlers. 

It means, loving myself, valuing myself, grabbing the life I have and enjoying it again with as much passion as possible!  

What does acceptance mean to you?

 

Note from Lisa:

Jane P (UK) has been a long-time member of the Life Without Baby community. We really appreciate her writing this heartfelt guest post.

It Got Me Thinking…About Just Saying “No”

If someone asked me if I’d ever robbed a bank or if I’d ever done illegal drugs or if I’d ever stolen a car and gone on a drunken joyride, I would answer with a simple “No.”

Period. End of conversation.

But when a new acquaintance asks, “Do you have children?”, for some crazy reason, I feel compelled to elaborate.

“No, we have dogs.”

“No, I didn’t meet my husband until we were too old.”

“No, but I love my nieces and nephews. And we’re crazy about our godsons. And there are tons of other kids in our lives who we enjoy!”

In my opinion, I have no obligation to answer any of the above questions beyond the one-word reply. Frankly, if someone asked me one of those very rude and none-of-your-business questions, I wouldn’t feel they deserved any response. So why is it that I feel I owe people an explanation about my childfreeness? I really don’t know.

I’d love to hear what you think and how you reply, and maybe I’ll find the courage to just say “no” the next time someone asks.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with being childfree.

 

Whiny Wednesday: Mother’s Day Aftermath

I hope you made it through the past weekend relatively unscathed. So, do tell:

How did Mother’s Day go for you?

How did you handle it? How did it go? What went well? What didn’t? Let us know the good, the bad, and the flat-out ugly.

 

What Challenges Are You Facing Today?

If you’re in a country that celebrated Mother’s Day yesterday, I hope you made it through the day’s challenges. If not, there’ll be a special Whiny Wednesday Mother’s Day Aftermath post this week, where you can share what did and didn’t go so well.

Some of you might be dealing with graduation season now, which was always a tough time for me in the past. It was hard to watch friends celebrate their grown children and usher them safely from the nest. It was one more thing on the long list of “I’ll nevers.”

Next come summer vacations, when kids are suddenly everywhere, and before you know it, we’ll be staring at Halloween and the beginning of the holiday season. I’m not sure there’s any time of year that isn’t challenging in some way.

What are some of the challenges you’re dealing with right now?

 

Have you recently made the decision to stop treatment and are trying to figure out how to let go of your plans for motherhood? Are you stuck in a cycle of grief that you can’t seem to break out of? Are you slowly accepting that your life won’t include children and you’re wondering what to do now?

 

Please leave me a comment below and I’ll try to cover these issues in the coming weeks and months.

It Got Me Thinking…About Being a (Proud) Dog Mama

Hell Weekend—I’m sorry, Mother’s Day Weekend—is upon us. Not being a mother, I’m going to spend the next few days avoiding restaurants, florists, candy shops, and even the slightest chance encounter with anyone who might wish me…well, you know.

The one thing I cannot avoid is also my one bright spot of pure love: Louie. My funny bundle of fur is a cuddler and a kisser. He is smart. He beams when he masters a new trick. He entertains me with his antics. When he “wins” our tug-of-war games, he immediately brings the rope back to me for a fresh round of play. He “sings” duets with me at least once every day. (It’s not pretty, but it’s incredibly sweet. And, no, I’m not posting a video or audio track.) He greets me every morning like it’s been years since we were last together. He’s one of the great loves in my life.

When people ask my husband if we have kids, he generally answers, “No, we have dogs.” I don’t ever refer to Louie as my “baby,” for he is no substitute for the children I’d hoped to have in my life. But he does provide me with so much love, that he frequently distracts me from my losses.

If you have a four-legged companion in your life, I hope they give you extra love and comfort this weekend. If not, I hope this photo of me and my little guy at least gives you a smile today.

Louie and Kath

 

Be gentle with yourself this weekend!

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with being childfree.

 

 

Whiny Wednesday: “I Never Knew Love Until…”


This hot-button whine was sent in from one of our readers.

When you read an interview of some celebrity or hear someone say:

“I never knew what love was until I had a child.”

So…is she saying that because I’m childless I’m not capable or “real” love or that I will be denied the experience of the highest expression of love?

Whether this makes your blood boil or cuts you to the core, whine away, sisters!

And if you have another great whine you need to get off your chest this week, here’s the place to let it rip.