filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
This week I’m talking to Brandi Lytle of Not So Mommy about her work, her infertility journey, and the unexpected joy she found in being a host mom to a foreign exchange student.
You can learn more about Brandi at NotSoMommy and find her on Instagram and Facebook.
There’s one shelf in my office where I keep my most favorite books, the ones that touched my heart and sparked my imagination, the ones I’d saved because I knew I’d want to read them again some day.
In January I pulled them all out, thinking this would be a good year to revisit them. While I eagerly anticipated re-reading brilliant novels, genre-challenging classics, and inspiring biographies, there was one category that pinched an especially sensitive nerve: the beloved books from my childhood.
Charlotte’s Web, the Little House in the Prairie series, the adventures of Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, all the Harry Potter books. I had saved those books, moved them from apartment to apartment, with the intention—and the hopes—of one day reading them to and with my own children. Alas….
Offers of some to nieces and nephews were declined, typically because they had already outgrown the stories. I had to think hard about what I was going to do with these treasures of mine.
Read them. Ah-hah. That’s what I chose to do. Read them to myself, for myself. And so I dug in.
At this point I still have the Mark Twain books in my to read stack, but all the others have been enjoyed, devoured, and—to my surprise—released. I discovered I needed to love them one last time before I could consider where they might go next.
A couple of those books have been gifted to the daughters of a friend (which made me so happy to do). Others will be donated to the library, where I trust they will thrill some young reader. None of them are going back on my shelf.
I just caught my breath. A year ago I could not have imagined saying that I had, without an emotional breakdown, let them go.
This got me thinking about the whole grieving process. Over the years of wrestling with my losses, I have come to believe that in order to fully let go and move on, I must first acknowledge my grief, then dance openly with it, then bless it and allow it to move out of my heart. Easy? Heck no. Necessary? I think so.
There are so many items we hold dear that represent what we wanted, and what we’ve lost. What is it for you? A family heirloom, hand-me-down baby clothes, the baseball glove/dance shoes/board games saved from your own childhood? Are you ready to open up your hope chest, pull out your treasures, and perhaps let them go? A perfectly fine answer is “No.” But when the time comes that you are ready, know that many of us here at Life Without Baby have been through the process, and we came out intact.
Good luck. And please be gentle with yourself.
I just returned from the mall where I shopped for graduation gifts for the children of friends. I don’t begrudge the money or even the feelings of obligation, but buying gifts for other people’s children still stirs up some tough emotions. So, it’s the topic of this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Buying gifts for other people’s children
Whine away, ladies, and feel free to chime in with anything else that’s setting you off today.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Anita has known for about 10 years that she’ll not have children. Now 42, she hesitates to describe her dream of motherhood because it isn’t something she allows herself to think about. “To much scratching on this wound can cause it to bleed again,” she says.
But she’s well aware that there are triggers all around us that scratch and wound, and she addresses some of them in her answer to “What’s the hardest part for you about now having children?”
I certainly can relate to what she’s saying, and I sense you will too. After you’ve read her story, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the Comments.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Anita: I dreamed about nurturing and raising a child of my own, sharing her life, watching her grow.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Anita: Circumstance. My husband had been previously married, and they had a son. Before we married we discussed the “having a baby” question, and we both wanted children. A few years into our marriage, my husband decided against having children.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Anita: Acceptance, and depressed. I am not really sure that one can ever really overcome this. I think this is, like the death of a parent, something you learn to live with.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Anita: In short, it feels as if being without a child has robbed me of interaction with other women. I am forever lurking on the fringes. I’m not a man, but not a “real” woman either. [Following are some of the situations she finds especially difficult.]
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Anita: “No.” Sure, I have a stepson, but he already has a mom. For a while I hoped that I could be his “other” mom, but it wasn’t to be.
LWB: What is the best part about not having children?
Anita: Listening to our neighbor’s child scream seemingly for hours every night, and feeling thankful that it is not our child.
Won’t you share your story with us? The act of answering the questions itself can be very healing, plus we’d like to support you by telling you “You are not alone.” Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childlessness.
A while ago Kath sent me this article about Dolly Parton and her views on childlessness and other people’s children. She talks about how she’s made room in her life for her nieces and nephews, how their children came to call her “Aunty Granny”, and how she’s now “Gee-Gee” (for great-granny.)
“I often think, it just wasn’t meant for me to have kids,” she says, “so everybody’s kids can be mine.”
I love her for that attitude.
So, why did this lovely article warrant a Whiny Wednesday spot?
Because in the sidebar of People magazine, in a section titled, “You May Like…” where I’d expect to find articles about other cheroes (heroes who happen to be child-free) like Miss Dolly, instead I’m offered stories about the ever-expanding Duggar clan and even more “things you didn’t know” about celebrities and their offspring.*
Even when we do get to hear about someone without children, there’s no escaping the fact that, ultimately, families rule.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s under your skin this week?
*Note: when I checked this week, the recommended articles had changed, but be aware that People always has lots of celebrity baby stories.
We’ve got another holiday coming up in the U.S. this weekend. Oh, excuse me, another family holiday. You know, when generations get together to pass along traditions, share celebrations, take group photos that will later appear on family holiday cards. You know, those days that can totally suck! for those of us who feel so horribly left out because we don’t have kids who might gift us with handmade works of art, treat us to a nutritionally questionable breakfast in bed, or turn the kitchen into a sticky swamp from mixing good ol’ time lemonade on a hot summer afternoon.
Which makes me think about the old adage: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Or as I like to say: When life hits you upside the head then kicks you when you’re down, make limoncello.
I’m not an advocate of drowning my sorrows in booze, but I do think there are healing benefits to stepping away from my challenging routine, finding someplace quiet to sit, taking a few deep breaths, calming my heart, and sipping something lovely.
If you’d like to stock up for the long, hot limoncello days to come, here’s a simple recipe from Giada De Laurentiis (find the full recipe, reviews, and tips here on foodnetwork.com):
Ingredients:
10 lemons
1 (750 ml) bottle of vodka
3-1/2 cups water
2-1/2 cups sugar
Directions:
Cin cin!
Kathleen Guthrie Woods also likes to occasionally drown her sorrows in dark chocolate.
I’m not a Catholic, but I have attended numerous services to support friends in their faith journeys and I am familiar with the vow in wedding ceremonies that asks, basically, “If you are blessed with children, will you raise them in the Catholic faith?” (“We will.”) It was an unpleasant surprise, then, when I attended a beautiful wedding mass and the priest, in my humble opinion, went too far.
“There are many here who are eager for you to bear fruit—as soon as possible!…May you soon become co-creators and bring many children into the world…Now that you are husband and wife, we look forward to your becoming parents…When you have your children….”
I get that the parents of the bride and groom are eager for grandchildren, but as the calls continued for my friends to procreate, I got uncomfortable, sad, and, well, angry. The kicker for me was when the priest invited us to pray for this beautiful young couple to produce babies asap. Oh, I prayed for them alright, but my prayer went something like this:
Dear God, Please be present for this wonderful man and woman. Bless their marriage. If they have a desire to have children, I pray that you spare them the heartache of infertility, miscarriages, and any other impediments to parenting. If children are not to be a part of Your plans for their future, please be a comfort and guide to them, and please soften the hearts of their family members.
I’m rankled whenever I hear someone say that “it’s not God’s will” or “you aren’t faithful enough” or some other condemnation for why good people are not “blessed” with children. I know in my heart that none of these statements are true, yet they can be so hurtful. I hope and pray that my newlywed friends never have to be at the receiving end of this kind of pain.
I’d like to hear from you. What does your church have to say about this? How do you feel about wedding vows that call for bringing children into the world? And most of all, how has your faith helped you in your journey through life without babies?
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with being childless.
By Lisa Manterfield
Do you remember the game Chutes and Ladders? In the UK we called it “Snakes and Ladders” and I loved it. I had a nursery rhyme version with Jack and Jill happily climbing the hill on one ladder, and then tumbling down at the next snake (or chute). Humpty Dumpty, Rock-a-Bye-Baby, Little Bo Peep and her poor lost sheep were all there with their assorted joys and disasters.
In case any one is reading and has no clue what I’m talking abut, Chutes and Ladders is a board game. There are 100 squares on the board and you roll a dice and move along, trying to be the first person to reach 100. If you land on a ladder you get to follow the ladder up and jump ahead on the game. If, however, you land on a chute (or snake) you slide back down the board to a lower number. There’s no strategy involved in the game at all, and it’s pure luck as to whether you joyfully climb the ladder or careen back down a chute.
It struck me that life is a lot like chutes and ladders, especially when you’re playing the “coming-to-terms with infertility” game.
Case in point: A while ago, Mr. Fab and I had a great weekend. It was the first one in a while that we’d spent together just relaxing and enjoying one another’s company. We slept late, took a long walk, planned a vacation, and took a long afternoon nap. It’s on weekends like these that I realize all the positive things that have come out of us not having children.
But on Saturday night we had dinner with some friends at their home. They and the other friends who were invited have adult children, so the evening was spent talking about all kinds of other things not relating to the perils of parenthood. But in their hallway were photos of their children as toddlers, sitting in the garden, laughing those infectious toddler laughs, and for a few minutes I found myself just staring at the pictures and thinking about all that I’ve missed with not having children. My happiness hopped on a chute and slid back down a few squares.
I think that my life is always going to be this way, that I’ll keep making progress and moving gradually towards that place of being 100 percent at peace with being childfree, but there are always going to be chutes thrown in my way: the cousin’s pregnancy announcement, the friends celebrating milestones with their children, those moments when I rethink the whole thing and wonder, “What if we got back on the train? What if that risky and expensive treatment worked? What if we adopted?”
But, for every chute that comes along, there’s a ladder that will take me back up. So, the trick to maintaining sanity and finding peace is to keep living for the ladders.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I am so glad I followed up with Amber*, who first shared her story with us in the summer of 2014. She is completely candid about the “dark days” that followed, the hard work it took to begin healing, and the bright spots she’s now able to enjoy in a life without children. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you’ll find some encouragement in her story.
• • •
When Amber is asked, “Do you have kids?” she answers, “We have dogs, which are much easier than children.” There’s a lightness and humor to her answer that puts people at ease, but it doesn’t reflect the challenging journey she’s been on and her amazing strength and perspective. I was struck by the depth and wisdom in her answers to our other questions, and I think you, too, will be moved by her insight. Maybe some of it will strike a chord with you and help you in your healing.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Amber: I actually was never sure I wanted kids, but after some health problems, we were told “Now or never….” I had several surgeries to remove fibroids, and after each surgery I developed Asherman’s Syndrome. Several corrective surgeries, tons of scar tissue reforming, several dangerous ectopic pregnancies later, and then being told our only hope was a surrogate, well…I was fresh out of $75,000. You have to draw the line somewhere.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Amber: I have moved on to live my life and be happy. I still have a wonderful husband and two dogs, and we will always have a wonderful life as long as we are together. I refuse to throw it all away just because we cannot have children. Sometimes people lose sight of what they have while trying to reach another goal. It’s like what Alexander Graham Bell says in my favorite quote:
When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Amber: Plan A was ruining my life and I was constantly devastated and sad. We were living in limbo between procedures and surgeries hoping for a miracle. As soon as we made the decision to move on, things started getting better and we starting enjoying our life again. We were back in control, and the most important thing was that we had each other. Thank God we had not lost each other in the whole mess. Lord knows I have lost multitudes of friends and family over our journey of infertility.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Amber: I worry about whom we will spend time with as we age, who will pick us up from the nursing home at Christmas. But, then again, some people’s children do not do that. I have to focus on the fact that we will have each other and a wonderful network of family and friends.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Amber: I get to spend all day, every day, with my best friend, and we can do whatever we want together at any given time. We get to take our dogs to the beach two to three times a year, sleep in on Saturdays, buy extravagant things, take naps whenever, hang out at the bar and watch a game, and, most of all, love each other more than anything on this earth.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
Amber: This was from my friend Penny, who died way too young: “Life isn’t what it should be, life is what it is. However, we get to choose what to make of it.”
• • •
LWB: How are you doing today?
Amber: I am living my life, but do not get me wrong, I had some dark days after 2014. It was a lot to work through, and I would have probably benefited from counseling, which I did not do. I will say I carry the guilt of our inability to have children, but my husband has never blamed me. At times I feel that I robbed him of a family life, but we have so many things to be thankful for, and our life is so full.
I might sound all “Pollyanna”, like life is all rainbows and unicorns. I promise you that is not the case, as we took a long break for my mental health. I am just an it-is-what-it-is type of person. Quite frankly, I am glad that infertility has been the biggest tragedy in my adult life. I have lived longer than my own mother, who died of cancer in her 30s. I see people all around me losing their health, their spouses, their jobs, or their homes. Worst of all, I have seen people lose their happiness, which encompasses countless things, because they are holding onto anger and resentment.
The best advice I can give is: Do not lose what is sitting in front of you, do not take what you do have for granted. Get rid of the resentment and anger however you must, and live your life. My life is not bad without children. As a matter of fact, many people envy us for our lifestyle. I am so sorry for everyone reading this, as I would not wish infertility on my worst enemy. Just know that you can pick up the pieces after some healing and have a happy life. We have countless friends who are our parents’ age, and we all enjoy kid-free activities. We have also reconnected with our childhood friends now that their children are older. None of them even know what we went through. (When you tell people, you must be prepared for their well-meant but stupid responses.) We have our dogs, tennis, work, we know every bartender in a ten-mile radius, extra money, and so many other things. To sum it all up, we are living a happy life.
LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?
Amber: Ahh…this is a loaded question. First and foremost: Go talk to a counselor! Perhaps even join a grief group if your reproductive endocrinologist offers one. Talking to people who are going through what you are would be way more helpful than becoming resentful of all the stupid things family and friends say trying to help you. Trust me, nothing they say will help you unless it is “Oh, I have $75,000 to give you” or “Oh, I can carry your baby for free.”
Do not feel guilty—it is not your fault. Only time will help you heal and, unfortunately, you are going to have to suffer through it to get to the other side, but the other side is better! While you drown in your grief, make a list of all the things you should be thankful for. It is a much longer list when you start writing it down. Help your spouse through their grief too. You are not the only one suffering.
You have a purpose in life, and that purpose was not just to have children. You must find your purpose, your passion, and your happiness. Time is the only thing in this world that you cannot get more of no matter what you do. What you do with your time is the most precious thing you have on earth. Choose what to do with it wisely.
This (see photo below) is what kept me going, part of my passion and my purpose.
*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods got goosebumps when she saw the above photo of Amber and her dog. How wonderful and inspiring to see Amber embracing and enjoying her Plan B life!
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.
~ "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."
