filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
In today’s New York Times, two powerful voices in the infertility world, Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos and Miriam Zoll, discuss the side of the infertility story that so rarely gets heard.
Kudos to these two courageous women for speaking out on this important topic.
It always boggles my mind when people use their kid’s photo as their own Facebook profile photo. It boggles it even more when they then send me a friend request.
If they’re sending me a friend request, odds are they’re not someone I see on a regular basis, so how am I supposed to recognize that person from a photo of their newborn or their child’s first day at school?
This blog needs a “sigh and shakes head” emoticon.
Happy Whiny Wednesday. What’s boggling your mind today?
As all of you know, it takes an awful lot of courage to talk about not having children. I know you’ve all been met with looks of confusion, dealt with inaccurate assumptions and unhelpful suggestions, and watched as people have broken eye contact to look almost anywhere else than at the “woman who doesn’t have children.” And those of you who’ve dealt with infertility know that most people can’t even bring themselves to say the word, let alone have an open conversation about it.
Nobody really wants to talk about this topic, least of all us. But a group of courageous women and men are about to do that in a very public forum—a New York City theater—in The Cycle: Living a Taboo.
The aim of this live forum is to pull back the curtain on a taboo topic that affects millions of men and women, and to change the conversation about the realities of infertility, reproductive medicine, and living a life without children.
The Cycle: Living a Taboo forum will take place on September 27 at 8:00 pm at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center in New York City. You can get all the details and tickets to attend in person at the event website. If you’d like to go, but don’t want to go alone, please think about using the community pages to find a friend to go with.
The wonderful Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos is one of the women behind this event and, if you can’t make it in person, you can add your voice virtually at her site, Silent Sorority.
We’ll also be hosting our own virtual forum on the community pages. Please jump in and make it your own forum for saying what goes unsaid.
If you have a blog, Facebook, or Twitter, please consider stepping out and spreading the word.
It’s time we had a different conversation about infertility and living without children, and we are the ones to change it.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
People are talking about “The Childfree Life.”
If you missed it, the cover story of TIME magazine’s August 12 issue explored “When having it all means not having children.” (Read the full article by Lauren Sandler here.)
I stumbled upon the article in a waiting room, and it wasn’t long before my voicemail blew up with messages. “Did you see it?!?” “What did you think?”
I cheered the positive portrayals (finally!) of women who have made the choices to be childfree and are leading full and fulfilling lives. I am grateful that Ms. Sandler acknowledges that “if you’re a woman who’s not in the mommy trenches, more often than not you’re excluded from the discussion.” (Yup.) I am hopeful that “women who choose not to become mothers are finding new paths of acceptance.” (Something we address regularly here at LWB.)
Most of all, after years and years of being subjected to articles—if not whole publications—about parenting, I am happy about finally being included in a mainstream discussion.
Did you read the article? What do you think about it?
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with being childfree.
I’m back! I feel as if I haven’t written a blog post in months, so I hope my brain and fingers are still connected, and I can still string a sentence together.
How was your summer?
I had a wonderful time on my vacation. I got to spend a long and fun weekend with my dearest and oldest friend in Scotland, got in a hike and dinner with another wonderful friend (both sans children, by the way), spent a week hiking with my mum, and saw all but one of my nieces and nephews. I also managed to get some serious time alone with my novel-in-progress. It’s not finished yet, but (and you heard it here first) it will be before this year is out! Hurray!
Before I left, I put together a survey to find out more about you and what you’re looking for in this site. So far, almost 100 of you have responded and I’m incredibly grateful for your help. Some of you also offered to chat with me in more detail and I’ll be taking you up on that once I’ve sifted through the results and have specific questions.
I’m going to leave the survey open until the end of this week (Sunday, September 8), so if you haven’t had your say yet, you can find the survey here.
As a thank you, I’ll be giving away a signed copy of my book and will do the drawing once the survey has closed.
So, our regularly scheduled programing will resume this week. I’m looking forward to sharing the contents of my brain and heart with you and hearing about the contents of yours, too.
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 2/19/13
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“I have to spend all day Saturday at soccer games. Gag!”
“I hate wasting weekends at my kid’s swim meets.”
“Wanna trade places with me?”
I’ve heard every variation of the above from friends who for whatever reason think it’s okay to complain to me about the “burdens” of being a parent. My responses have ranged from “Sounds like fun to me!” to “Dogs are so the way to go.” to “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
I don’t use that last one very often because it pretty much shuts down the conversation, but when I do, I hope it makes them think. It’s bad enough that this person is complaining about something s/he had to know about before signing up for the whole parental gig, and don’t even get me started if this ding-dong complains in front of their sweet child. Most of all, I wish they’d think for a moment about their chosen audience: childfree-not-by-choice woman who loves kids.
I loved playing sports as a kid, I was thrilled when my parents were on the sidelines cheering me on, I have great memories of those years, and I looked forward to the day when I could create similar memories with children of my own. Girl Scout leader, Team Mom, 3rd base coach—I woulda been all over it!
Maybe I don’t understand because I’m not a busy mom, but I do understand how much it hurts to be on the receiving end of a busy mom’s thoughtless complaints.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 9/26/12
Yesterday I accompanied my friend as she underwent a very unpleasant test for a big, scary health issue. My friend is a lot like me: she has no children and her family is many miles away. No one should go through something like this alone, so I volunteered to be, what she good-naturedly called, her “Biopsy Buddy.”
I’m sure the medical center staff has been highly trained in putting nervous patients at ease, and the nurse who prepped my friend for her procedure did a good job of making safe small-talk. Unfortunately, she latched onto the topic of Halloween, her big plans to go to Disneyland for the evening, and the problems of trying to find a Halloween costume to fit a 7-year-old with extra-long legs. If she was looking to get a conversation started to ease the tension, she picked the wrong, darn subject.
I don’t blame her for going with what she assumed to be a safe bet. I just wish the topic of children wasn’t always the go-to conversation starter.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What do you wish was different today?
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 10/9/12
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s impossible to put on mascara when you can’t stop crying.
I learned this little truism the day after we put our sweet 14-year-old dog to sleep. I’d spent the day intermittently sobbing and whimpering—set off by her empty bowl, her favorite spot in my office, now vacant, and tiny reminders of my everyday companion. I had pushed off most work-related tasks, but still had to pull myself together for an evening event I needed to attend. With a lot of deep breathing, as well as promises to myself that I could continue crying my eyes out later, I managed to make myself presentable.
I’m not new to devastating losses. Almost daily, I still think of the best friend who died tragically when she was just 20, my beloved grandmother and “hot date” for movies who passed in 1993, and my father-in-law who left us 914 days ago. But the outpouring of emotions I experienced after losing Scout was a new breed of grief. Guilt, gratitude, longing, regret, relief, loneliness, heartache. At times it consumed me, as, I think, it should. And that got me thinking….
As a woman who is childfree by circumstances, I have never fully grieved the loss of my dream of motherhood. For 25 years or so, I’ve been in this crazy dance between longing and hoping, praying and wishing, denial, regret, jealousy, despair, having faith and losing faith. I used to beg God for a neon sign—seriously—a message so clear that said either “You will have children, so stick it out!” or “You aren’t going to have children. Get on with your life!” And the years went by. And the years went by. And here I am. I am 46 years old, childfree by circumstance (don’t you dare accuse me of making a “choice”), and I describe myself as “mostly at peace” with my status. But there are days when I still think “What if….”
I won’t trivialize the pain of our sisters who are childfree by infertility. I’ve held too many friends and sobbed with them over miscarriages, failed IVF treatments, and the loss of their dreams, and I know too well that their paths are filled with heartbreak. But because LWB is a place where we can safely share our deepest hurts, please allow me to say that there are times when I’ve envied their ability to grieve. My friends had defining moments when they could let it all out, when they could ask for support, when support was offered even when it was not asked for. Think of my journey like the quiet drip-drip of a faucet; it’s imperceptible, so no one calls in the plumber, but over time it causes the same amount of catastrophic damage as a flood. I have never had a moment of finality, never experienced that intense period of grief, and on some very deep and possibly damaged level, I wish I could.
Selfish? Perhaps. But hear me out. I know that grieving is necessary. The sobbing period winds down, you put your experiences into perspective, and then you move on. For I so would like to be able to move on. I want to embrace this path I’ve been given and find new purpose in my life. I’d like to feel that the wanderings of my childbearing years were not just wasted time. And I fear that, if I skip past the crucial grieving phase, I’ll never get to the phase of accepting and, ultimately, to that day when I can feel content with my circumstances.
P.S. Grief is a topic we’re addressing head-on here at LWB. If you are feeling stuck, consider signing up for the upcoming LWB Mentoring Program that starts this evening. You’ll find more information here.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s wrapping up a memoir about her journey to coming to peace with being childfree (and clearly it’s a work in progress).
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 5/29/13
After telling a friend recently that I haven’t had an invitation to a baby shower in years, guess what popped into my inbox last week?
But here’s the kicker: the invitation is from someone I don’t know who’s throwing a shower for someone else I don’t know, who happens to be expecting twins.
I scratched my head for a while wondering how to handle this. Should I point out I know neither the hostess nor the mother-to-be or should I just show up bearing gifts? (Okay, I was kidding about the latter.)
I guess this is the Universe’s strange idea of a practical once, and for once, I’m actually laughing.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What strange, ironic, or downright annoying things are going on in your Universe right now?
During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa
Today’s post was originally run on 4/29/13
By Solo Girl
I have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall on Boxing Day so we can all get together. And now all those sisters and female cousins are newly married and reproducing. Every time a baby shower comes up I’m invited, and I wrestle with myself over whether or not I should be able to go yet.
I’ve always been supportive and encouraging with my family, happy to celebrate in another’s happiness. It’s been four many years since my dream died, and I get the sense that I’m expected to be “over it” by now.
Unsure and not wanting family to think I’m selfish or emotionally immature, I went to a cousin’s baby shower about a year ago. I mentally prepared myself ahead of time. For example, I’m terrified of flying, but I know that there is lift-off, food, a movie and a landing, and then it’s done. I thought about how there would be food, presents and games at this shower, and then it would be done. I thought to myself “I should be able do this, even my own Mom is expecting me to go.”
I thought the worst part would be the games, but I was wrong. It was the chitchat. I actually got stuck between my mother and a cousin having a conversation on the couch about how all the women in our family have long labors. Seriously. When I got home I wrote myself a note in black marker and stuck it on my kitchen pin board where it still remains today: “You never have to go to another baby shower ever again. No one will notice; no one will care. It’s torturous. Don’t Go. Don’t feel guilty”.
But a year later I still get shower invites and I continue to question whether I am – or should be – ready to attend now. And I want to know, is it ever going to be something I can attend? And what can I tell my family that will help them understand how painful it is to attend without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself after all this time? They have high expectations of me, and I really do think they mean well. I was in a deep depression four years ago, and I think they are trying to make me normal again. I think.
I’m glad Irina Vodar is producing a documentary on the subject of infertility that some helpful social norms will come of it.
How do you handle these situations?
Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada. She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.
~ "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."
