Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Kay

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesAfter a first marriage to a man who was “never stable enough for us to have kids,” Kay* met her current husband when she was almost 42. They got busy trying to create their family, but three pregnancies were lost early, and adoption didn’t work (they weren’t against it, but the reasons it didn’t work were “complicated”). Now 52, Kay still struggles with being childfree by chance and circumstance. After reading her story below, I hope you’ll take a moment to offer her some encouragement in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Kay: Oh, the Waltons. I wanted a big family with lots of children, maybe with foster kids as well.

LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?

Kay: My parents didn’t have a clue how to show love and fought a lot, and we children felt truly unloved and unwanted. From a very young age, all I wanted in life was to be a mama. That I will never have that is crushing. We are not close to any of our nieces and nephews. We have tried, but we live too far away from them to be very involved.

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

Kay: I don’t have to discover that I am just like my parents in parenting, in spite of my best intentions.

LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”

Kay: I really, really struggle with this because I so want/wanted to be a mama, and I want to relate to other people. Trying to explain, however, becomes complicated. I frequently get, “You could always just adopt,” which is a more complicated conversation. I’ve found it best to just answer, “No.”

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Kay: I still very much want children in my life, and it doesn’t matter to me now that they won’t be my own. We unofficially mentored a family for a while. We called them our “Rent-a-Kids” and they liked that. But they moved away, so now I’m looking for something similar. I would like to find a way to connect “aged out” foster kids with people who would be family for them, to give them someone to care about them and a place to go for holidays and other momentous occasions. I don’t quite know how to get this started, but I’ve recently come across a couple of possibilities.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Kay: I still struggle with hearing pregnancy announcements, and frequently give a big sigh when I read stuff on Facebook about friends’ kids/grandkids or their parenting stuff. Early on I told myself, “This is not how your life will turn out. You will not have this.” It was an attempt to work for acceptance, but I eventually gave it up as it was turning into a self-pitying whine instead of acceptance. Sometimes I’m angry, more often I’m wistful. I frequently quote Agatha Christie: “Life is badly arranged.”

 

*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

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

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayLast week I asked you to share topic ideas for Whiny Wednesday. Quite a few of you were glad to oblige. Thanks for the great ideas.

So, this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is:

Other People’s Pity

As always, you’re free to vent on your own topic, too.

If you have Whiny Wednesday topics you’d like to see voiced, please drop me a line.

Behind the Walls of the Mommy Club

By Paulina Grace Hay

People at beach drinking having a partyOne thing I’ve felt and heard many times is about being locked out of the “Mommy Club”—a club we felt we had a natural right to join, no special requirements necessary. Then infertility, illness, age, or time black-balled us. We stand wistfully outside trying to get a peek of the mothers inside living their ideal lives. We imagine all the judgment about our “child-free” lives will be washed away once we walk through those golden Mommy gates.

I live in an odd situation where my life straddles having no kids and having one kid. I have a teenage stepson. He was a toddler when I started dating his father. I am not a full-time stepmother and my son’s mother is very active in his life. Due to this unexpected loophole, I have been granted a “special guest pass” into the Mommy Club. But with restricted privileges. I’ve been outright ignored, given the once over, and warmly greeted. Sometimes by the same person.

I found my place at the club in the fly-on-the-wall seat. I’ve done my share of listening and observing over the years from this post. From the moment a woman is pregnant, people have lots of opinions to share in front of her face and behind her back. I’ve watched the awkward “Congratulations” and subsequently more awkward baby shower for the 19-year-old who got admitted too soon. I’ve watched one mother look down her nose at another for paying for lunch milk rather than packing it. I’ve heard one mother refer to another’s young child as “homely”. In return came an insult about their son’s need for a haircut. I’ve watched smiling faces drop like lead balloons after having an unexpected insult directed their way. I’ve heard the voices lower and eyes begin shifting as a group insult gains momentum.

If anything, admittance into the Mommy Club only ramps up your potential areas of judgment. Some are the old stand-bys. Your age. Your weight. Your hair. Your outfit. Your car. Your house. Your husband. Your ex-husband. Your job. Your decision to stay home. Then multiply all of those things by your child and husband. Possibly your parents and your dog, too. How you raise your kids has the highest potential for conflict of all.

The Mommy Club is not for the faint of heart. Often I saw these women enter with full armor on, even if it looked like yoga clothes, in the chance a battle may begin at any time. Very different to the rose-colored version I imagined, where a new mother would be greeted with open arms and loving support once inside the club walls.

My biggest lesson from access into the Mommy Club is this: Being a mother does not make you automatically connect with another person. I’ve found the same holds true for infertility. It just might give you something to talk about for a few minutes or a few get-togethers. We are more complex and interesting than our children. Or lack of them. I choose to instead consider that we are all part of the Human Club. And for that, there is no special admittance required.

 

Paulina Grace walked away from the infertility roller coaster six years ago. She hopes to help other women let themselves grieve and then let themselves live. Outside of running her own business, Paulina fulfills her need to nurture by being an involved aunt and caring for her aging parents. 

Our Stories: Gwen

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesGwen*, now 44, has endured a rough journey of loss and infertility treatments, but she still hopes for a miracle. Like many of us, she dances around the pros and cons of being childfree as she considers what her Plan B might look like. Do you see yourself in her story? If so, take a moment to reach out to her in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Gwen: I told myself that if it didn’t happen by 36 I would not pursue it. It wasn’t until I was 39 and reconnected with an old flame—who I eventually married—that I wanted to try for a family. My husband had been a victim of parental alienation for over a decade, has had no connection with his own children for over eight years, and it was very important for me to be able give him a child we could raise together in a very loving family.

LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?

Gwen: It was by choice until the age of 39. Then, after three years of trying and having over a dozen conceptions/zero pregnancies/one early miscarriage, I sought infertility treatment. Two failed IVF (in vitro fertilization) cycles into two failed IUI (intrauterine insemination) converts; the doctors could do nothing for me. We can’t afford and are not morally on board with egg donorship. We are too old to adopt a young child, and I do not to want to put myself or my husband through the grueling process of rejection through adoption.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now? (For example: still in denial, angry, hoping for a miracle, depressed, crawling toward acceptance, embracing Plan B, all of the above.)

Gwen: All of the above. I still hope every month, still time intercourse for a possible miracle while fully knowing the eggs are bad and the outcome will most likely never change. Just this month we had a conception that failed. I now joke that my uterus is made of Teflon.

LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?

Gwen: Feeling like a social outcast. I just cannot get past that one. I’ve never followed the status quo my entire life, was a “late bloomer” with all things social growing up, and became a statistic as a child of divorce and divorced twice over myself. So giving up the battle and becoming yet another statistic is the hardest part for me. “Everyone else can have a child, why not me?” is what goes through my head every day.

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

Gwen: Not having to dedicate the next 18 years to being responsible for another human being. I can continue to “do my thing”, come and go as I please, work on my crafts whenever I want, enjoy life on my terms, and not lie in wait for what my offspring needs right now. Oh, and being able to get a full night’s sleep every night. That’s a biggie.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Gwen: As I am just coming to terms with being childfree forever, I guess it is wait and see. After three years of marriage we could apply to be a licensed foster home and hope to find an older child who will fit into our life. But that is another year waiting, and my thoughts on adoption might change by then. I’ll leave that in God’s hands.


*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

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

Ms. Cellophane

By Lisa Manterfield

Orate Mirror in the Corner of a RoomHave you ever been around people who behave as if you can’t possibly know anything about life because you don’t have children?

I’m sure that all of us have heard the old chestnuts, “You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids” or “I didn’t understand until I became a mother” (which implies the same thing) or even “Only a parent could know how this feels,” as if being childless strips away all capability of empathy.

And then there are those situations where you just feel invisible, when the conversation about children and parenting is swirling around you and no one even bothers to make eye contact with you because what could you possibly contribute?

These instances make me think of the wonderful “Mr. Cellophane” number from the musical “Chicago.”

And even without clucking like a hen,

Everyone gets noticed now and then,

Unless, of course, that person it should be,

Invisible, inconsequential me.

Personally, I’m done with feeling insignificant because I don’t have kids. It took me a long time to get to this point, but now I hold my ground in conversation. I contribute when I can and simply listen and nod when I can’t, just as I would if I found myself in a conversation on any other topic on which I’m not an expert.

I also keep a list of amazing childless women in case I ever need to remind myself that we don’t need to be parents to make a difference. On my personal list is Amelia Earhart, Dian Fossey, Julia Child, and Juliet Gordon Low, who started the Girl Scout movement. If you need your own role models, Jody Day has put together an outstanding collection on Pinterest.

You’d be hard-pressed to call any of these women insignificant. I remind myself of this when I find myself allowing others to make me feel like less than who I am.

So what do you do when you start to feel like a Ms. Cellophane? Do you feign boredom, try to hop in with an intelligent anecdote, change the subject, or do you slip away and hope no one notices you’ve left?

It Got Me Thinking…About Burdens

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Girl ThinkingI am a huge fan of watching kids of all ages participate in just about any kind of sporting or performing event. I don’t care if a player is running toward the wrong goal or if the opposing team scores the most points or if the knight in tin-foil armor has to have his lines whispered to him from the teacher behind the curtain. I applaud and enjoy it all.

Watching my own kids was one of the activities I most looked forward to participating in as a proud parent. Alas…no kids for me. And since it would be weird if I showed up to watch a random game at the park, I put the word out to siblings and friends to let me know when I could come watch their kids.

“Send me the game schedule,” I said to a friend after she complained to me about how much time she spends chauffeuring her boys to practices. “When’s the next match?” I texted to another friend after getting a video clip of her daughter scoring a game-winning point. Despite multiple requests, I rarely got a response. Finally I pinned one friend down. “I’m serious!” I said. “I really really want to go watch your daughter play.” “Really?” she said. “We didn’t send you the schedule because we didn’t want you to feel obligated, we didn’t want to burden you.”

What followed was an open chat about how much I loved watching kids play, how much I missed being able to watch my own kids play, and how I hoped I could ease my feelings of loss by watching her kids at play. She got it. She finally heard me, and a couple of weeks later I had a seat in the bleachers.

It’s not easy or fun putting ourselves out there like this, but if you’ve been sitting on the sidelines too long, I encourage you to persist. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be part of the fun.

 

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

Guest Post: Moving Past “Maybe”

By Katrina Blaydon

peaceI will be 34 in a few months and my husband of 3 years and I have been trying to have a baby for the past year and a half. I have PCOS and do not ovulate. He, however, is just fine. So, if I take a course of fertility drugs every month on particular dates, I ovulate. Problem solved. So, it was a very frustrating process to learn that every four weeks, we would face another heartbreak, despite physically being “able.” And it was less than comforting, when our wonderful doctor, whom we trust, said point blank, “I’m sorry you aren’t pregnant yet. I’m frustrated about this too, and I can’t explain it.”

Every month, we would anxiously and silently go out of our minds with a mix of excitement and sorrow, hope and heartbreak. Then one day, as I got teary eyed by myself at work in the bathroom stall discovering once again that I was not to be a mother, I decided that I could not do it one more time. I spoke with my husband, who is wonderful, who loves me and wants me to be happy, but who also wants to a father. We decided together, for our sanity and health, we needed to consider a way for us to “move on” and pursue other plans.

That entire time of hope and heartache, I had to live in a state of “maybe” and “what if.” Could I take Advil for a headache if I’m possibly pregnant? I had a cold this past winter, and I couldn’t take Dayquil, in case “maybe” I was pregnant. I couldn’t plan a beach trip with my girlfriends because maybe I would be pregnant by then and wanted to save my time off for maternity leave. I couldn’t plan my life; I couldn’t even cure a headache… That’s when I realized: I need to learn to move past “the maybe” of it.

It was a feeling of pure anger and fury over the situation. I likened it to seeing myself as a child stomping my feet and pumping my fists at God, saying, “I want this and you won’t give it to me!” And to be honest, those feelings were worse than feeling sad every four weeks because after that sadness, I could find hope again. But knowing that, after this anger would come bitterness for friends and coworkers who announced joyfully planned pregnancies, wasn’t easy to grasp.

As with anything, it got worse before it got better, and it took a few months to reach a point of not feeling red hot at the thought of it. I started attending church after months away, as if I were being the stubborn child who rebelled, saying, “I’ll show Him!” The truth was, I was too angry and too bitter to pray. I couldn’t praise a God who decided that a homeless teenager, or a crack addict, or a single mom who couldn’t feed the six children she already had, was destined to be a parent, instead of us. I couldn’t understand that, and I still don’t. I still get red cheeked when I think about that, but it’s not 24 hours a day anymore of anger. It’s not a sleepless night every single evening of the week anymore, and it’s not a daily breakdown in tears anymore. I’ve made great progress.

Learning to move past the state of maybe, was the only way I could allow myself any peace. I am not going to lie and say that I don’t feel those same feelings when I get invited to a first birthday party or the worst of them all, the baby shower. And yes, something like a bomb explodes in my chest when someone unknowingly asks me, “Are you two going to be next?” or “So, when are you two going to start a family?” And yes, I still cry sometimes, just because I feel sad about it. But, overall, my general day to day life is not consumed by it.

By working to accept a childless status, it’s brought me peace and a feeling of knowing the pressure is off. I can make other plans. I’m finally able to let go and feel “lighter” somehow without this unfinished agenda constantly in the back of my head. I try to be thankful for a good night’s sleep, or to have a free weekend to get away with my husband, or spend Saturday mornings gardening instead of dashing to and from soccer fields. We enjoy a spontaneous date night on a Wednesday without worrying about a sitter and bath time routines. We are thankful to have time to enjoy our friends. I enjoy quiet time for myself and yet, I still cry about all the silence in our house. But learning to move past “maybe” has let my heart rest and it’s let my mind relax, and it allowed me to pursue a greater health and wellness plan for my body. Maybe that’s when it’s time to move past the maybe and learn to consciously enjoy the life you are living. After all, the “maybe” will be there whether you are planning on it or not. And as one of my most encouraging friends told me, “Plans can be changed.” Yet another thing for which this infertile woman is thankful.

Katrina has her B.A. from Penn State University. She lives in central PA with her husband of three years.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayIf you’re new to the site, welcome. You may be wondering what this Whiny Wednesday thing is all about.

Whiny Wednesday is the place you get to grumble—judgment free—about whatever’s on your mind. No one will ask why you’re not over it yet and no one will think less of you for speaking the truth, warts and all. And, within the boundaries of appropriateness, no topic is off limits either.

So, if you have something on your mind you’d like to unload, here’s the place for it.

Whine on!

Memorials and Milestones

It’s Memorial Day here in the U.S. and Mr. Fab has asked that we go to the cemeteries where his relatives are buried. One of those cemeteries is also the place I had my big epiphany when I realized I was never going to have children.

I haven’t been back there since that day more than five years ago and I know it’s potentially a loaded place for me, but I think I’m going to be okay. Going back there will mark another milestone on my road to recovery and each one gets a little easier.

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MP900214902On the topic of milestones, this site passed its own milestone last week, with the 1000th post on this blog! I haven’t done the math, but I’m guessing 1000 posts equates to about 400,000 words. So, if you ever find yourself bored, feel free to browse what’s probably the equivalent of five books of posts!

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And speaking of books I have finally managed to get all your book recommendations up on the site. How long has it taken me? It took me way longer than it ought to have done and I finally found an easy way to do it. You can find the Books page here.

You’ll notice that the books are listed through the Amazon Affiliate program, which means that if you click through and buy the books from the links on this site, LWB will receive a small commission. This will help to offset the cost of providing the private community and keeping the site ad-free. (Those of you who were here in the early days may recall the site was housed on a free platform that had Google ads offering diapers, fertility clinics, and baby products.) If you’re not comfortable using the affiliate links, you can simply use the page as a list and then go directly to your preferred bookseller.

The Books page is still a work in progress and I hope to add more as I go, so please let me know if you come across a book that you think other readers would find helpful.

Our Stories: Melanie

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesHere’s a somewhat different story. For many (most?) of us, becoming a mother was a long-held dream, and losing that dream was a devastating experience. Melanie, however, never felt that “burning desire,” although she was open to having children if a husband wanted them. Now 48 and single, she has a healthy perspective on what being childfree means for her, and I think we can learn from her, maybe even embrace some of what she’s discovered for herself along the way. Take a look.

LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?

Melanie: I am childfree by chance, I suppose. The opportunity has never come up for me, so I am content with the way things turned out.

 

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Melanie: I feel I am too old to have kids on my own anymore, so have accepted that outcome and am at peace with it.

 

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

Melanie: I don’t feel I need children to complete my life. I can concentrate my time on bettering myself and finding a partner with whom to enjoy life’s journey together. I also am able to get my children “fix” by spending quality time with my beautiful nieces. Additionally, I feel that children could be a financial burden in a way; I would have the added stress of providing for them, not only for their necessities, but also for their educations.

 

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Melanie: I’ve learned that I was not meant to be a mother in this lifetime. I have done a lot of personal development work, and maybe there’s a reason why the blessings of children did not come into my life. I think I needed to do more work on myself before I would be ready to be a mother. I think I’m best suited to be a mom to a pet instead!

 

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?

Melanie: That a woman can still be happy and fulfilled without being a mom! There’s so much out there to experience as an individual in this world, and I am glad I have the independence to experience this either on my own or with a partner.

 

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Melanie: Continuing to work on my personal goals in life and helping to make this world a better place for the next generation. Rather than choosing to have children, I choose to be a better person who could be a role model for my nieces. I hope that that could be my contribution during my time on this planet.

 

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

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