Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About My Very Own Holiday

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

If you’re in the U.S., you just got through or are in the midst of one of our biggest “family” holidays of the year. Feeling thankful? Yeah, me neither.

We’ve officially kicked off the holiday season—yes, a whole miserable season—that often feels like a series of slaps across the face for those of us who are childless-not-by-choice: the pageants with the impossibly adorable miniature angels, the onslaught of family photo cards and newsy letters, those awfully festive reunions that bring together multiple generations (and unwanted questions), the traditions we’ll never get to share, every little slight and hurt that reminds us of what we wanted and didn’t get to have. I’m all wrung out just from the anticipation!

But this year I have a plan for how I can get through the next several weeks with a bit of calm and brightness. In my schedule, between the shoulds and the musts, I am going to book out some time for myself. I am going to prepare now to welcome a most special guest into my home for the holidays: Me.

Think about it. If your dearest friend was coming to stay, how would you treat her? I might:

  • Fluff up the pillows on the bed and add a cozy throw blanket.
  • Arrange fresh flowers on the nightstand.
  • Pull out the “nice” towels, then pour out some of those fancy bath salts I’ve been saving for a long, soothing soak.
  • Place a couple of chocolates on her pillow at bedtime, and warm her PJs in the dryer just before she slips them on.
  • Serve her breakfast in bed—it can be as simple as tea and a muffin served on the special occasion china and presented on a tray.

How might you treat your most honored guest? Share your ideas in the Comments, then let’s commit to creating a true bit of holiday for ourselves.

 

If you’re struggling this holiday season, I encourage you to explore the Life Without Baby site for resources. Check out the Forums and Groups, reach out to others through Comments, or pick up some of the recommended Books. We may not be able to guarantee merriment, but we can offer compassion. 

 

It Got Me Thinking…(Again) About Feeling Cheated

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

We are heading into the unrelenting holiday season, when families get together, old friends reunite, and our losses seem to smack us in the face. It sometimes feels as though all the stages of grief are coursing through our bodies and souls all at once! As I try to prepare myself for another not-so-merry-go-round, I find myself revisiting an older post, a “classic” that has resonated with LWBers over the past few years. I offer it with a reminder to be true to what you’re feeling and to be gentle with yourself.

My long-time friend, Teri*, and I had spent the morning reminiscing about our college days, catching up on work and vacation plans, and updating each other on sorority sisters we’d friended on Facebook. I was in my kitchen, putting together a salad for lunch, when she finally acknowledged the elephant in the room: The fact that we’re both childfree. She knew I was working toward accepting a childfree life, and I was aware she’d endured several unsuccessful fertility procedures, but we’d managed to talk around it until…

“Do you ever feel…?” and she paused for a moment, seeking the right word.

“…cheated.” I’d never articulated this before, but it was exactly what I felt, and the admission surprised us both.

She looked straight into my eyes with full recognition, then burst into heart-wrenching sobs.

I sought words of comfort as I held her, but nothing could compensate for the emptiness we both were experiencing. Teri would have been an amazing mother. She and her husband are a wonderful couple, part of a loving community of family and friends that would have embraced a child. But you know the story: She and her husband have run through their savings and battered their hearts in attempts to get pregnant, in the process depleting the stores that might have helped them adopt. There will be no children for them.

Even though I’ve made great strides in my journey, there are moments when I have a few choice cuss words for God—or whoever it is who makes the big decisions about our fates. I think about the man who beheaded his teenage daughter because he didn’t approve of her lifestyle, the foster parents who starved and neglected the children in their care, and the woman who left her toddler alone in a filthy apartment so she could go clubbing. These people get to have children but not me? Not Teri?! You bet I feel cheated!

“Life isn’t fair,” my mother once told me, and I continue to wrestle with how to make peace with this. Sometimes I force myself into positive thinking, the whole “acting as-if” process. Instead of focusing on the lack, I focus on the gifts, such as my health, my friends, my dogs. Even reading that now, I scoff at the triteness, but I persist. I have to start somewhere to point my heart in the direction of healing, and I suppose I can count myself lucky that I have these blessings when others have been cheated out of good health, supportive relationships, and loyal companions.

Still, I ache for my dear, sweet friend and the unfairness she’s been dealt in life. I don’t want to trivialize her pain, I don’t want to deliver some callous platitude. As we quieted our hearts and wiped away tears, what I said to her was, simply, “I am so sorry.”

*Her name and details have been changed to protect her privacy.

 

Kathleen is mostly at peace with her family of two + dog.

It Got Me Thinking…About My (Empty) Branch of the Family Tree

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I was 12 years old, I was assigned the task of creating a family tree. I loved this project, as I was able to trace my father’s family back to their arrival in the U.S. from Ireland in 1762 and learn the names of my grandfather’s 16 (that’s not a typo) siblings. It was thrilling to uncover some long-buried family history.

Relatives on both sides continue to dig into our past, and not long ago a cousin forwarded an updated chart that includes my generation and our children. By “our” children, I mean the children of my siblings and cousins, because, as you know, I don’t have and will never have children. What happens to people like me? I flipped back through the pages and was stopped cold with a line that pruned branches in previous generations: “No issue.”

That’s it. End of the line. You either added to the tree or you became insignificant. No mention of creative writing talents, beautiful singing voices, athletic prowess, or successful careers in politics, all attributes that appear in living relatives. There’s no link to my great-grandmother’s wildly popular donut recipe or my great-aunts’ and great-uncles’ great acts of faith. Nothing to indicate which of my ancestors was funny like my dad, compassionate like my aunt, or courageous like my nieces.

As I think about the tree and my place in it, I’m saddened. No, I think “crushed” might be a better description. My siblings are both listed along with their spouses, and their children appear in a fresh new column. My space for the moment is blank, and I wonder how long it will be before a draft appears that includes my very own “No issue” notation.

I refuse to accept that a life can be measured solely by the producing of heirs. I would like to believe I am making worthy contributions to both my extended family and the world at large. Meanwhile, I’m thinking the printout of all the branches will serve as great kindling for a roaring fire.

How to Deal with Family Envy

By Lisa Manterfield

As I continue on my own journey of healing, I find it hard sometimes to write about the issues that used to cause me such discomfort. It’s amazing how the human brain can dull past pain. So I appreciate when readers contact me with ideas for topics they’d like to see discussed.

Recently, one reader sent me this question about envy within families:

“I see a lot of people post about the joy of having nieces and nephews. Well, my brother’s wife is pregnant and I’m feeling completely pushed of out the picture. It may be because I reacted with shock and sadness over their first pregnancy. But I did write a lengthy, heartfelt apology and when that resulted in a miscarriage, my husband and I were the first to make it to the hospital and we stayed 11 hours with them. Now, my sister-in-law is being really removed from me.

I really want to have the connection with my niece or nephew, but I’m afraid I won’t. And honestly, I’m envious.

I wonder if others have similar experiences?”

A new baby in the family is a really difficult situation to navigate. There’s such a mixed bag of emotions involved. You’re trying to deal with your own grief, while also feeling alone because others don’t understand what you’re going through. Then a cause for celebration gets thrown in on top of that and, as much as you know you’re supposed to be happy for the new parents, all you can feel is resentment and envy that it’s not you. So, guilt and shame for being a bad sport get piled on top of that.

I also know that other people don’t know how to handle us when they have good news. I recall a friend being extremely uncomfortable about telling me she was pregnant. She dealt with it by sitting down, explaining that she knew this was difficult for me, and asking me how much or how little I wanted to know or be involved. I really appreciated her being open and it allowed me to be honest with her about how I felt. I’ve also had the experience of a friend saying, “Guess what?!” and then launching into every detail of how she found out and how it feels to be pregnant, while I sat and squirmed. Often people don’t know what to say or how best to handle us “volatile” folks, so they pull away and say nothing.

How about you? Have you experienced envy over new babies in the family? How have you dealt with it? Have you had a good experience with a friend or family member handling their news with aplomb?

 

Surviving Halloween Without Children

By Lisa Manterfield

Halloween is a holiday that others assume everyone is joyous about, but for many of us, it’s a holiday that surprises us with all kinds of triggers. Halloween delivers a steady stream of Other People’s Children—all impossibly cute—to our neighborhoods, Facebook pages, and workplaces. It’s hard to avoid it when it comes, quite literally, knocking at your own front door.

Around Halloween, it’s a good idea to steer clear of social media, the mall, and kid-related gatherings. If you live in a family-friendly neighborhood, you might also have to deal with a steady stream of adorable munchkins.

As always, it pays to have a plan so you don’t find yourself hiding behind the couch with the lights out, pretending not to be in, because the first set of trick-or-treaters reduced you to tears and now you’re trapped in your own home. And, by the way, this is a real-life story from a reader, not a humorous hypothetical scenario.

So, how will you handle it? Do you want to turn out the lights and pretend you’re not home? Do you need to make alternative plans so you don’t have be at home during trick or treat time? During those years I wasn’t ready to face it, I’ve turned off the front lights and hidden in a back room of my house with a book. I’ve also left home before dusk and gone to dinner and the movies. Other years, I’ve decked out the lawn, bought a cauldron of sweeties, and fully embraced other people’s children (although I’ll admit there was more of the former before I could muster the strength for the latter). If you feel you want to participate by handing out goodies, consider inviting friends over for dinner so you have a back-up for answering the door, and be ready with a Plan B in case you suddenly discover you’re not as ready as you thought.

The holidays are always going to be challenging, but being aware of the emotional triggers and having a plan in place can help you to get through them and maybe even have some fun.

Our Stories: Sarah

 

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I think a lot of us can relate to Sarah’s story. Following three miscarriages, she is now, at age 36, facing a life without children and struggling to accept her new path. When asked “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” she said, “Knowing what I am missing, imagining the ‘ghosts’ of my nonexistent children just doing everyday things. We only have one life to live, and I am never going to get to experience being a mother in my life.”

That last comment is just a dagger to my heart. I can feel the pain of her losses as I read the details of her story, and I hope after you’ve read it, you’ll offer her some sisterly understanding and compassion in the Comments.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Sarah: I always wanted kids. I remember how I felt the first time a baby fall asleep on my chest when I was babysitting. Now I feel like my soul has been hollowed out from my chest, leaving a gaping hole.

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

Sarah: Three miscarriages, all the tests, no explanation. Now my husband says he can’t do it anymore, can’t see me go through it again.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Sarah: Angry, beyond sad, torn between acceptance, and trying behind my husband’s back since he said no to IVF.

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

Sarah: In my head I say “None living.” I wish I could say it out loud. But usually I just say “No” and do whatever I can to get away.

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Sarah: My dogs are my salvation. I don’t know what I would do without them. I look forward to being able to be a great dog mom and spending more time on my own life.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Sarah: There is so much out there on infertility, but it’s always about people trying to get pregnant. I am so glad to see that some people are here saying they are working on living childfree. It’s better than dwelling on infertility. I have spent 20 years thinking about being pregnant and having kids. Here I can start to change the conversation.

 

Where are you on your journey? Are your wounds raw? Have you made some progress toward accepting a life without children? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

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

Whiny Wednesday: Haunted by Halloween

Next Tuesday is Halloween, which for many of us means streams of cute children knocking on our front doors.

Love it or hate it; it’s hard to avoid it. So the discussion topic for this week is:

How do you handle this difficult holiday?

As it’s Whiny Wednesday, there’s room for your gripes here, too.

The Thing Childlessness Did Not Take From Me

By Lisa Manterfield

There was a time when I found it difficult to be around mothers of young children. It was hard to listen to them talk about their kids when I felt I had nothing to contribute, and it was painful to know that I’d never be able to share those experiences with them. I couldn’t bear to hear their sweet or funny stories, and it made my blood boil to hear them complain. What I wouldn’t have given for the chance to be kept awake all night by a colicky baby.

As I’ve progressed on my journey and begun to heal, it’s become easier for me to spend time with mothers, to listen to their stories, to speak up when I have something to add, and even to commiserate about the hard stuff, without feeling resentful.

I’m listening to what they say about motherhood and I’m hearing a common theme: Motherhood chips away at them until they lose touch with the women they once were. They love their children, they love being mothers, but they resent how all-consuming the job is and how much of themselves they lose to their families, until they know longer know who they are.

There are always two sides to every story, pros and cons, gains and losses. When we don’t get something we want and deserve, it’s easy to focus on what’s lost—the experiences, the opportunities, and the stories we won’t get to tell. But what about what’s gained? And what about what’s not lost? What about the sacrifices we didn’t have to make and the women we now get to be?

I may not be the woman I’d once hoped to be—a mother—but I know who I am now, and a part of me is grateful for what I didn’t have to lose: myself.

Our Stories: Mari

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Mari has been through the wringer, specifically the wringer called stage II endometriosis. While it’s considered a “mild” condition, its effects on fertility can be devastating and cruel.

 As I read about Mari’s journey, I, like Mari, wondered how many other LWBers have been suffering from this. Is endometriosis part of your childless-not-by-choice story? If so, I hope you’ll share some of your experience in the Comments.

When asked “What’s the best advice you’d offer someone like you?”, Mari replied: “Follow your gut, do whatever you need to do to get answers. Explore all your options. And most of all, take care of yourself.”

Here’s how Mari took care of herself.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Mari: My dad died when I was 14, so my dreams of motherhood included having a boy and seeing my father in him. My husband has red hair, and I always imagined we would also have a little girl, with wavy red hair and freckles. We’d dress them in knit hats with animal ears and witty onesies. We would go camping, carve pumpkins, find a great sledding hill nearby…every season would have special moments.

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

Mari: By chance and circumstance. My husband and I had a lot of anxiety about parenthood, so we left it up to nature the first year. Much to my surprise, it didn’t happen. So I got in the game and tracked my basal body temperature, etc….still nothing. Meanwhile, everyone around me seemed to be getting pregnant without trying. When was it going to be our turn? What was wrong with me? Maybe this delay was just the universe telling us to go have an adventure while we can. So we took a trip to Japan, something we always talked about doing someday. I had hoped to conceive a “souvenir” while we were there. Shortly after our return, I decided it was time for fertility testing. We passed everything with flying colors except for what my doctor thought was a fibroid on my HSG [hysterosalpingogram] X-ray. I scheduled hysteroscopic surgery for removal, but it turned out to be just an air bubble on the X-ray from the contrast fluid. I felt like such a fool for getting my hopes up that this would be our fix, and for paying several thousand dollars for NOTHING. We tried IUI [intrauterine insemination] once after that, then decided to keep trying on our own since we couldn’t find anything wrong. A few times I wondered if I had endometriosis, but my OB/GYN wasn’t concerned since adhesions didn’t show up on the X-ray or in the pictures they took with the hysteroscope.

LWB: What was your turning point?

Mari: This spring I was at the outlet mall for a girls shopping trip. We went into a kids clothing store for my nieces and nephews, as we do every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around and be reminded of my broken dreams, to feel my heart sink each time I saw clothing I would pick for my own little ones. So I hung out by the door, watching glowing mothers parade in and out, feeling so many awful feelings. Then the tears came. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to move forward until I had answers. I went to see the fertility specialist again who recommended laparoscopic surgery, since endometriosis makes up about 40% of unexplained infertility cases. My OB/GYN advised against it, saying I could put that money toward IVF. But I went with my gut and did it anyway, based on my history of painful periods and IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) symptoms. And I was right: Surgery revealed stage II endometriosis, with adhesions near my bowel and appendix.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Mari: We’ve spoken with adoption agencies and have had an IVF consult, but can’t bring ourselves to commit to what would be an even more expensive and emotionally draining journey. Stage II endometriosis equals mild endometriosis, so we’re back to leaving it up to nature, even though our chances of conception are slim. I’m fed up with hope, with bullshit miracle stories about a friend of a friend who conceived a unicorn by eating a rainbow. I just want to “be” for a while. To sum it up, I would say we are taking a break until our Plan B becomes clear to us.

 

On your journey, was there a turning point moment when you listened to your body and defied an “expert’s” advice? Perhaps you pursued a test that confirmed a barrier you suspected, or perhaps it was that moment when your body announced it was DONE trying to conceive and nudged you forward into grieving and acceptance. We’d like to hear from you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

Whiny Wednesday: When We Were Kids

An old school friend recently posted a photo of her son going off to college.

It got my attention because the “kids” weren’t much younger than my friend and her now-husband were when I first met them, and, as the boy looks like his father, the photo reminded me of them and how flipping long it’s been since I was in school.

It also caused a pang of sadness for another experience I won’t get to have. I won’t get to send my teen off to college or take a photo of him and realize he’s a carbon copy of his dad.

It’s Whiny Wednesday, and today I’m feeling whiny about what will never be. How about you?