Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Irrational Thoughts and Kidnapping

This week saw the final session of the creative writing class I teach. For the past 9 weeks I have taught ten 4th and 5th graders how to tell stories. Along with ten dedicated volunteer mentors, we have coaxed funny, scary, or deeply personal stories out of these children, turned them into short plays, and put them up on stage, performed by ten professional actors.  It’s such an incredible experience to see the students – especially the shy ones, or those who aren’t academically brilliant, or even those who are brilliant but can’t find a safe outlet – open up and pour out these wild and creative stories, and form bonds with the adults they have come to trust. Even though organizing 10-year-olds is sometimes like trying to wrangle cats, I love it and keep going back year after year.

This session one of the students lost her mother during the program. She skipped a class, but was back the following week, smiling, participating, and being her usual brave, strong self. At the end of the last class we play a game where everyone in the group has to share two likes and a wish. This little girl said she liked her dog and all the mentors, and she wished she could have her mom back.

I know that kidnapping is illegal and immoral, but for just that second I wanted to take that little girl home with me. While not all of us get to have children, I think that all children should have a good mother. This little girl had one, but lost her, and for a second I entertained the thought that maybe I could take her place.

It was a fleeting thought and a stupid one at that, and while I try to make sure my actions are legal and generally rational, no one ever said the same had to apply to my thoughts.

Harry Potter and the Spontaneous Adventures of the Childfree Couple – Part I

Tonight, Jose and I are going to the midnight screening of the new Harry Potter movie. Why? Because it’s become tradition for us, because Harry was there with us when our relationship began, because we love the story, and because going to a midnight show is silly, exciting, fun, and (because it’s a work night) a little bit rebellious. But the main reason we’re going is because WE CAN!!

We have no kids who have to be up for school in the morning, who would want to come with us, who really shouldn’t come with us, who probably wouldn’t stay awake until 3 a.m. anyway, and who would probably be cranky for the entire rest of the weekend.

Granted, Jose and I might be all those things too, as 10 pm is our normal bedtime, but the great thing is, we are adults and we can choose to go or not.

One of the very best things about not have children is the freedom of spontaneity. We might take a train trip to New Mexico for Thanksgiving next week…or we might just stay home and pretend we’ve left town. We might throw a New Year’s Eve party this year…or we might just go somewhere fun, just the two of us. We might go the midnight showing of Harry Potter tonight…or….

Well there is no “or” on this occasion, but if an “or” comes our way, we have the freedom to choose it…or not. 

As the French would say, “Vive la liberté!”

Missing My Re-Education

Last night my husband asked me, “What’s coal tar?”

I didn’t know exactly, so I did what I usually do, which is to piece together the bits of information I do know about coal and tar and try to fudge an answer. As is also common (and one of the things I love about my husband) this turned into a discussion about how coal and oil are formed and if all living things are carbon based. But it still didn’t answer the original question about coal tar.

I decided that I’d look it up when we got home, but something else came up and I got busy and so I never did get my answer, and neither did my husband. It occurred to me that if I had children, I’d have found an answer. I’d have done the research until I could give them a good explanation. So I wonder, am I missing an education because I don’t have kids? Or am I just missing my re-education?

I used to know about a lot of things. I could identify birds, knew the names of all the dinosaurs, and knew which color paints to mix to make the colors I didn’t have. I knew how to French knit, do a cat’s cradle, and build a model theatre out of cereal boxes. I also learned most of the periodic table and could list all the kings and queens of England in historical order. And I used to know the difference between how coal and oil are formed. But now I just can’t exactly remember. If I had kids, I’d have to learn all that stuff again and I’d be glad to.

I realize that this isn’t life-saving information I’m missing, but it would be nice to be able to pop out in conversation that Edward VI was Henry VIII’s son and heir, and that coal tar is a by-product of converting coal into coke.

Sharing Childhood Memories

Today is an important holiday in my culture-of-origin. In the U.K. it’s Guy Fawkes’ Night or, as it’s more commonly known, Bonfire Night. It’s a cross between the 4th of July, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, when we Brits–in order to show our gratitude for our Government not being blown to smithereens by a bunch of 17th century ne’er-do-gooders–light bonfires, set off fireworks, stuff our faces with roast chestnuts, parkin, and bonfire toffee, and then burn effigies of the traitors. It’s all very barbaric, but it was still always my second favorite holiday, after Christmas.

Now that I live 6,000 miles away from my hometown, I miss Bonfire Night. On my list of fondest childhood memories, Bonfire Night ranks pretty near the top. And it makes me sad sometimes (this year, apparently) that I have no one to pass along these memories and traditions to. I’ll never get the chance to tell stories of my favorite Bonfire Nights to my children or make Bonfire Toffee that they’ll remember 30 or 40 years later.

I’m sure part of my melancholy comes from knowing my own childhood is gone, but sharing days like this with my own children is one of the things I’m sad I’ll never get to do.



My Family Car Stickers

I don’t know if these are popular where you are, but in my neighborhood, they’re everywhere. They used to annoy me. I begrudged the smug little families competing against one another for the glory of biggest, most interesting, or cutest family. Isn’t it enough that you have a family without having to parade them around as well?

Anyway, I’m over it now. When I take off my Baby Grinch hat, I have to admit that these stickers are pretty cute. What’s more, according to the company website, they’re only $2.99 a figure, which means that since my goldfish passed away last month, I can get my entire family—Jose, me, and the cat—for under $10!

Now that’s something to be smug about.

Taking Care of Myself

I’ve been sick this week. Not sick enough to fully take to my bed, but sick enough to cancel appointments, push non-urgent work projects to another day, and crash down for a deep, drooling sleep in the afternoon.

I have the luxury of doing that.

I have the flexibility to adjust my work schedule. I have the luxury of a quiet house. I live with people who can fend for themselves if I’m not up to cooking. And I can allow myself the time to take care of myself. If I had kids, it would be a different story. While my head was pounding on Tuesday, I tried to imagine the noise of a two-year-old added to the mix. While I was sipping herbal tea under a blanket, my friend with two boys in preschool, would have been up, feeding, entertaining, changing diapers, etc.

Being sick is not how I choose to spend my life, but if it has to happen, it’s a lot easier to manage without kids.

My Ex’s Kids

It’s happened to me a few times over the years. The first time an ex resurfaced was pre-Facebook through a site called Friends Reunited. He was my first true love and it was fun to see his face and remember the good times we had when we were way too young (and thankfully smart enough) to do anything more than fantasize about getting married and having kids together. When he told me about his wife and two little girls, I felt a little melancholy for the life I could have had, but knew I made the right choice when we broke up and I pursued a different life.

The next run-in was in-person with the ex-fiancé who had never wanted kids. I ran into him with his new wife and daughter when I was right in the thick of my infertility madness. That time I was livid, furious, jealous, feeling that the world had done me wrong, thinking how he’d wasted five years of my life and frittered away my chance to have children of my own.  Fortunately my husband was with me at the time and I was instantly reminded that my ex’s lack of desire for children wasn’t the only reason we were no longer together.

This week another ex resurfaced on the dreaded Facebook. He was a high school boyfriend and we “went out” for a few months, as I recall. Nice guy, but I think I was probably about 15 at the time. He friended me on FB and I accepted, and of course went straight to his photos to look for evidence of his current life. There were photos of two little blonde girls and him playing board games with them, and I felt…nothing. No envy, no sadness, not even relief.

We all choose our paths in life. Sometimes the path choses us, but even then we still have choices to make about how we walk that path. I didn’t plan to have a life without children, but I always planned to have a good life, and I do. When I look at the lives I might have had with the men I might have had them with, I realize that they weren’t the life I wanted. I like my life, it’s a good life, and even if it’s a life without children, it’s still the life I want.

Guest Column: It Got Me Thinking…About Marriage

According to our local radio show host, celebrity Mario Lopez was “so inspired” by the birth of his daughter Gia on September 11 that he proposed to his girlfriend, Courtney Mazza, shortly after she delivered their baby.

I haven’t been able to confirm this online, but I have seen reports that Mario is planning a new reality show about how he’s going to juggle his career and fatherhood, so maybe he’s saving the details for a ratings sweep. Anyway, it got me thinking…. Didn’t he want to marry Courtney before they got pregnant? What was it about having his baby that made him want to marry her now? And, the question that keeps nagging me: Is marriage primarily for having and raising children?

Next year, I’m getting married for the first time. In my mind, our wedding will be a celebration of our success at finding love and a joyous reason to bring family and friends together. But not everyone agrees with me. Almost every ceremony I’ve attended has included words about welcoming children into the world. Because we are in our 40s, well-meaning friends ask if we’re going to hurry up and have children. On the flip side, other friends suggest that, since there won’t be kids, we skip the legal part of our commitment to avoid the “marriage penalty tax.” And Project Marriage, as part of the appeal process defending California’s Prop. 8, which specifically outlaws gay marriage, defined the “true purpose of marriage” as “responsible procreation and child-rearing.”

So where does this leave me—and us, the child-free adults? If you got married with the expectation of children, then discovered it wasn’t going to happen, do people make you feel you’ve broken vows? Is marriage only for making families? What does getting/being married mean to you and how has it changed since you learned/decided you wouldn’t have children?

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. Her articles have appeared in AAA’s Westways, GRIT, Real Simple, and 805 Living magazines. Read “How to Be the World’s Best Aunt Ever” on eHow.com.

The Secret Society of Childless and Childfree Women

I was at a cocktail reception last night. A couple of times a year I dig out my high heels from the back of the closet, assume the role as Executive Wife, and spend the evening shaking hands, eating things on sticks, and trying to remember the names of people’s spouses (and in some cases the names of the people themselves.) When stuck for small talk, I always turn to the subject I know will get people talking; I ask about their children or grandchildren. In many cases, I’ve known these people for many years, and I’m glad to hear updates; in others it’s a ploy. In know that all I have to do then is sit back and let them talk instead of having to come up with anything new and witty to say.

Most of the people I knew in the room have children. Some of their grown children were there. At one point in the evening, I glanced around the room of maybe 80-100 guests and spotted three visibly pregnant women (and spoke to another, although I didn’t know it at the time.) It wasn’t until I bent down to admire the shoes of a little girl toddling around that I was suddenly aware of my childlessness. I wondered if people who knew me well enough to know about my situation noticed me and thought, “What a shame she can’t have children.” But I shook the thought off quickly and got on with my job of working the room.

At the end of the evening, one of my husband’s employees found me. She pulled me aside and told me that she had seen this website and that she got what I was all about (I’m paraphrasing.) She told how she loved children, but had never wanted children of her own, and she told me about the amazing volunteer work she does fundraising for a local children’s organization. Talking to here was like finding a lush tropical island in the middle of the sea of parents. It was like being a part of a secret underground organization and hearing someone else speak one of the code words.

So maybe we childless and childfree women need an identifier so we can find one another at social gatherings. Maybe we need our own secret masonic handshake, or a piece of jewelry with the Life Without Baby crest subtly showing. Because wouldn’t it be great when we find ourselves at mixers and receptions and other social gatherings to be able to find just one person to talk to and not have to talk about their kids?