filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Graduation season is upon us and social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:
Feeling left out when friends and relatives celebrate parenting milestones.
As always, your other whines are always welcome.
If someone asked me if I’d ever robbed a bank or if I’d ever done illegal drugs or if I’d ever stolen a car and gone on a drunken joyride, I would answer with a simple “No.”
Period. End of conversation.
But when a new acquaintance asks, “Do you have children?”, for some crazy reason, I feel compelled to elaborate.
“No, we have dogs.”
“No, I didn’t meet my husband until we were too old.”
“No, but I love my nieces and nephews. And we’re crazy about our godsons. And there are tons of other kids in our lives who we enjoy!”
In my opinion, I have no obligation to answer any of the above questions beyond the one-word reply. Frankly, if someone asked me one of those very rude and none-of-your-business questions, I wouldn’t feel they deserved any response. So why is it that I feel I owe people an explanation about my childfreeness? I really don’t know.
I’d love to hear what you think and how you reply, and maybe I’ll find the courage to just say “no” the next time someone asks.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with being childfree.
This hot-button whine was sent in from one of our readers.
When you read an interview of some celebrity or hear someone say:
“I never knew what love was until I had a child.”
So…is she saying that because I’m childless I’m not capable or “real” love or that I will be denied the experience of the highest expression of love?
Whether this makes your blood boil or cuts you to the core, whine away, sisters!
And if you have another great whine you need to get off your chest this week, here’s the place to let it rip.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I’ve been catching up with some of our early contributors to this column because I’ve wanted to hear how they’re doing. Naturally, I’m hoping for good—if not great—news about new-found passions, successful Plans B and C, adventures on roads that might not have been taken.
But this is real life. Each of our journeys toward healing goes at its own pace, over its own terrain. Kay’s* road has been full of hard bumps, and when I asked her if she would update us on her life today, she initially replied, “I’m not sure that my story is one that will be of any benefit to anyone.” I’m saddened to hear this—and I disagree. For sometimes the benefit we can give each other is saying, “You are not alone.”
After you’ve read Kay’s original story (first posted in 2014) and update below, I hope you’ll add a Comment. Then I hope you’ll consider sharing your own story. Visit the Our Stories page for information and the questionnaire.
• • •
After 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.”
• • •
LWB: How are you doing today?
Kay: I have medical issues that are debilitating, and while I try very hard to be upbeat and positive, I’m much worse than four years ago. Because of these issues, I’ve not been able to follow through with aged-out foster children.
I struggle not to be bitter about life, and I am very thankful for the things I do have: supportive husband, friends and family, our home and cats, a decent functional medicine (semi-alternative) doctor. I think I have the bitterness under control, but I am sad (not clinically depressed) often, feeling that we’ve missed so much.
LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?
Kay: The question about what to say to my younger self is a conundrum. I guess I would simply tell myself that, with my genetic structure, medical intervention does more damage than benefit, and it would be best to eschew it. And “Embrace life more fully.” I was raised with the belief that “good things come to those who wait” hand in hand with “the meek will inherit the earth,” and those two things combined lead to too much passively waiting and watching life pass by.
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is inspired by the strength and courage of every woman who has shared her story here.
“Why don’t you just adopt?”
We’ve all heard this response to our telling people we can’t have children/don’t want children/are childfree. I don’t believe these people intend to be callous and cruel, but so often, that’s how this answer feels to me.
Here’s why:
After nearly three years of working through the adoption system, my friends Elise and Chris and their daughter Emma* opened their arms to welcome baby Jane into their family. Oh, how we all celebrated! The long-awaited arrival of this precious child was the answer to so many prayers.
A few weeks later, I received the devastating news that the birth mother had also signed over parental rights to a different adoption agency. After a furious and frantic battle in court, due to what was described as a “rare loophole,” Jane was pulled from Elise’s arms and given to another family.
I wept with Elise as she poured out the details between sobs, and I failed to make sense of it, to see a silver lining or life lesson…oh, screw it, it was all just horrifying. After all the miscarriages, all the hoping and preparing and planning, my dear friends—who are good and deserving people—had their hearts broken once again in an unimaginably cruel fashion.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first ride on the heartbreak tracks of the adoption-option train. Another family I knew had to relinquish their son at the six-month mark when his birth mother changed her mind and decided to keep her baby for herself. (I didn’t begrudge her this, yet I so ached for my friends.) And yet another couple, through a private adoptions setup, paid all the living and medical expenses for the birth mother, only to learn at the end that she had scammed several families, taken all their money, then left the baby in limbo with child services.
I can also tell you stories about friends who have been successful in their adoption efforts, but none of their experiences came easily either. Multiple disappointments, years of waiting, tens of thousands of dollars. The harsh realities of adoption are rarely mentioned alongside the airbrushed photos of celebrities and their pretty babies in tabloids, and I think leaving out those details does us all a disservice.
Yes, there are children around the world who need homes, and adults longing to be parents, and I wish I could wave my magic wand and bring them all together to be loving families. But “just” adopt? Omg, people, just stop.
*Not their real names, of course.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
I’ve been reading through some posts from the early LWB days, and this came up as one of the most-read—and one that received a flood of comments. It continues to ring true, and it continues to make me laugh and think. I’m including it below for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, and for long-time LWBers who will get a kick out of revisiting it.
What’s most interesting to me about how it makes me feel today, in 2018, is that I now focus less on the “I’ll Nevers” (both the loss of experiences and the avoidance of the annoying acts listed below) and focus more on the “I Cans.” For example, last year one of my nieces earned a spot on her high school cross-country team. Because I don’t have sporting events with my own kids filling up my Saturdays, late in the fall I was able to travel quite a distance to watch her team win the league championship. Several weeks later, my husband and I drove nine hours round-trip to watch her and her teammates win the state championship.
It was beyond thrilling to be there, and my heart overflowed with pride for this young woman who had worked so hard to achieve her win and with gratitude that I was able to be there to see her achieve it. I think of this again and again as I attend basketball games, awards ceremonies, music recitals, theatrical debuts, graduations, first communions, and other special events for my nieces, nephews, and godchildren—things I can and do enjoy but would never get to if Fate had dealt me a different hand.
So today in the Comments, I hope you’ll have fun with your “I’ll Nevers” and I hope you’ll think about at least one “I Can” you are able to enjoy because you happen to be childfree.—KGW
• • •
Whenever I get tired of hearing myself whine about all the things I’ll never get to experience because I’m childfree—feeling a second heartbeat within my body and beaming with pride when someone says “She’s just like you”—I find I can put an end to my self-pity party by thinking about some of the annoying things I’ll never do. This includes:
1. I’ll never ruin another couple’s romantic dinner because I’ve let my toddler run amok in a nice restaurant.
2. I’ll never keep an entire airplane full of stressed-out businesspeople and weary travelers awake with my screaming infant, because if I can block out her cries, surely they can make an effort.
3. I’ll never insist that, because my child is actually the smartest/most talented/most gifted kid in the group, he should get special treatment.
4. I’ll never have to schedule a vacation to coincide with school holidays, so I won’t be part of the masses of humanity standing in line in front of you to get into the museum/amusement park/restroom stall.
5. I’ll never say the words, “How would you know? You’re not a mother.”
6. I’ll never offend a stranger by asking him to hold my child while I lift up my shirt, fumble with snaps, and flash my breasts before taking the kid back for a public feeding.
7. I’ll never saddle a colleague with extra work because I have kids.
8. I’ll never blow off a friend because I have kids.
9. I’ll never tell my husband to go take a cold shower because I’m worn out from taking care of his kids.
10. And I’ll never, ever con extended family into going on a Disney cruise.
What’s on your list?
At a reunion event, the keynote speaker summed up his message with “…everything we do is to make the world a better place for our children and grandchildren.”
And I thought, “Huh. So that means everything I do is to make the world a better place for your children and grandchildren.”
I haven’t said this out loud yet, but I’m waiting for an opportunity, perhaps the next time some unthinking person accuses me of being selfish for not having children. I’d like to point out that I am not having children then pawning them off on already overworked teachers and daycare providers, expecting them to do all the parenting. I am not polluting our parks with used diapers or filling the air with fumes from my super-size, family-friendly SUV. I am not expecting other people to suck it up when my toddler screams in an airplane, runs amok in a nice restaurant, or rubs berry stained fingers into their new sofa.
On the contrary, I am paying taxes to support schools that educate other people’s children. I contribute to fund-raisers for parks, boys’ and girls’ clubs, and organizations that provide services for needy families. I take note of when a friend looks fried and offer a few hours of babysitting—no strings attached—so she and her husband can take a long-overdue date night. I attend basketball games and dance recitals, and I encourage children of varying degrees of talent simply because they are precious to me. I reach out to elderly members of my family and extended family, well aware that they are lonely because their own children are otherwise occupied with caring for their children. I remember birthdays and anniversaries, with gifts, cards, and calls, and I zip my lip when a mommy friend complains to me that she’s too busy to remember mine.
Selfish? I don’t think so. I think childfree women, as a class, are the most un-selfish people on the planet.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is feeling a little feisty this week.
Today is Good Friday, a holiday in many Christian-based religions that commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In my faith tradition, it was a dark day of contemplation and prayer, one that was necessary before we received the promise and glory of Easter Sunday.
I wanted to incorporate something about old or new practices and traditions into my post this morning, but wasn’t sure what would be most relevant for us all here at LWB. So I thought it best to do a little online research, and here’s some of what I discovered:
It’s that last item that intrigued me. What is a “lovefeast”? In the 21st century, we have an understanding that a “feast” involves copious amounts of food and beverages, a large gathering of family and friends, and a celebratory air that might include music, dancing, and revelry. But there’s something about throwing in the “love” part that makes it sound (regrettably) a bit R-rated. That was not the case in the 18th century, when the Lovefeast held on Good Friday might have been as simple as servings of sweet buns and coffee, or even bread and water, with music and singing all designed to “strengthen the bonds and the spirit of harmony, goodwill, and congeniality, as well as to forgive past disputes and instead love one another.” (Read up on at the details here.)
Doesn’t the idea of that just warm your heart? It does mine, and it gets me thinking about how I might put together my own lovefeast. I imagine inviting dear friends to join me around a table for a thoughtfully prepared meal. I imagine seeing their delight as they greet each other with forgiveness and acceptance. I imagine a toast to friendships time-tested and new. I imagine feeling tears well in my eyes as I look around at the sweet souls beside and across from me and feeling so grateful for their presence in my life.
I also imagine you there. For although we are geographically all over the globe, making a sit-down dinner with all our LWB sisters impossible, when I am here with you, on these pages, I am strengthened by our spirit of harmony, goodwill, and congeniality. I release past hurts and look to the future. I feel accepted and loved.
And that feels so very, very good.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is counting her blessings today.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
As soon as I finished reading Wendy’s story, I sent her an email: “I understand.” Oh, how I understand. I’ve felt all the anger and bitterness, I’ve raged at how unfair Life has been, and I’ve experienced that same glimmer of hope when I finally realized I was not alone and found the courage to reach out for help.
I hope you’ll share some words of encouragement and compassion to Wendy in the Comments, and please take a moment to acknowledge that the Comments written by other LWBers are meant for you too.
Sending out extra love to all of you today. ♥Kathleen
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Wendy: Circumstance. Married at 24, tried three rounds of AIH [artificial insemination by husband] at 27 (what was recommended before you consider trying IVF), found out I had Hodgkin lymphoma at 30. Decided to try adoption, but was told after a few steps in that, because I was in remission from cancer, I couldn’t adopt for seven years. We sold our house and went travelling around Australia for a couple of years. When we came back home, I was feeling unwell, so I went to doctors who thought I might be pregnant. I got excited, then had a test to discover I had fibroid so big I had to have a hysterectomy at 37. I had the hysterectomy and recovered in the maternity ward. (There were no other beds available, even with a request from me.) It was pretty gut-wrenching seeing mothers with babies! I asked the hospital for my womb so I could bury it myself, and they agreed, but my husband was not happy with my decision. From there my marriage broke up, and we divorced when I was 40.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Wendy: I moved interstate at 40, and I am remarried to a man with four teenage children who I feel I keep at arm’s length. I am at a point now, at 53, where I realise I had no counselling or grief support during the whole process for over 25 years. My personality has changed. I get angry and depressed. I get annoyed when people say “You have four stepchildren, you should be happy.” They just don’t get it. Yes, my stepchildren are loving, but they are not mine. They have a mother, and I will never have a mini me. I have come to a point where I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I need to actually grieve and have someone understand. So, thank you for reading this.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Wendy: I thought I could be strong and cope on my own and keep it inside, but I can’t. I am a strong woman, but I was too stubborn. I should have asked for support a long time ago, which makes me wonder how much better I would have felt earlier/now.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Wendy: I still haven’t worked that one out. It depends on the person asking. If they seem genuine, then I am more genuine with my answer.
LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you? (or What advice would you like to give to your younger self?)
Wendy: Get help and support asap. Talk to someone who understands. Don’t wait 25 to 30 years and become bitter, angry, or depressed.
LWB: Who is your personal chero (a heroine who happens to be childfree)?
Wendy: Xena, Princess Warrior.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Wendy: I have been able to express my feelings to others who have been through similar.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Wendy: I am finally seeking out help to grieve.
I hear again and again from contributors what a healing experience it is to answer these questions and share their stories with other readers who truly get what they’re going through—and who rise up to offer support and encouragement. Won’t you consider sharing your story? Visit the Our Stories page for more information and to download the questionnaire. I hope to hear from you soon.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is so grateful to be part of this community of wise, loving, and brave women.
A TIME magazine cover story awhile ago, “The Childfree Life,” came with an image of an attractive (and color-coordinated) couple lounging on a tropical, white sand beach, seemingly without a care in the world, resplendent in their designer sunglasses. That image prompted this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:
The assumption that if you don’t have kids you have money to burn
Whine away, my friends.
~ "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."
