filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Facebook has been the topic of many Whiny Wednesday rants, and rightly so. Social media in general has perpetuated a myth of happiness that can make any kind of pain feel worse. So this week, our topic is this:
“Other People’s Perfect Lives”
Let us know how you feel.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
At a dinner not long ago, I shared some of the challenges we’ve faced with the raccoons that moved into our dining room wall. Yes, inside the wall. Damages to the vents, the doors, the walls. The fleas that have infested our laundry room and left me with itchy red bites all over my legs. Loud noises keeping us up all night. The costs of catching these critters and relocating them to wooded areas nearby. (We live in a big city, for Pete’s sake!)
I fielded questions about how they got in, how their nocturnal activities are making our dog go crazy, and what sounds they make (kind of a mewing by the babies, and a hissing-screech by the adults). But the question that stopped me in my tracks came from a nine-year-old:
“Wait…what’s a flea?”
He’d never seen one, never been bitten, never almost lost mind trying to end the onslaught by employing collars, sprays, high-pitched noise-emitting machines (those were the worst—and useless), dips, and bombs. And I hope he never does.
It’s unrealistic for me to expect that his life will be pain-free, but as I thought about how blissfully unaware of fleas he is right now, I allowed myself to think of other things I’d like my young friend to be free of:
Loneliness
Infertility
Ostracism
Bigotry
Bullying
Prejudice
Poverty – of pocket and spirit
We LWBers endure a lot of grief about being childless or childfree. Today, I wish you a different kind of –less and –free. I wish you a day of peace, of belonging, and of joy.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is telling the story about her journey in The Mother of All Dilemmas. As she shares her quest to become a single mother (and ultimately embraces a life without children), she explores why society still appears to base a woman’s worth on how many children she has. Watch for updates on the book’s release here at LifeWithoutBaby.com.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
When I was 43, I trained for and completed my first triathlon. A good friend earned her black belt at 47. A gal I know picked up a paintbrush for the first time after retiring from a decades-long career and became a successful landscape artist in her 70s. Another brave friend and her classmates, representing several decades, showed a gathering of a few hundred guests how real women (with curves) dance traditional hula.
I think our youth-obsessed society is under the misconception that courage is the domain of people under 30. They party, they experiment, they go on reality TV shows. But I disagree. I think real daring rears its beautiful head around the age of 39. I see it in so many of my friends, as they finally pursue long-held dreams or take new risks, whether it be diving out of a plane or going back to school and changing careers. I think it’s a combination of finally letting go of caring what other people think about us, along with renewed desire to try new things and a dash of fatalism—life is too short, let’s do this now!
I also believe we childfree women have a huge advantage. We don’t have to worry about what will happen to the kids if we end up in a cast and pretty much useless for 6 weeks. We don’t worry about embarrassing our teenagers. We have time on our hands and money not earmarked for someone else’s college education.
If you’re looking for inspiration, read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love or Julia Child’s My Life in France, both memoirs of childfree women who took big chances and dramatically reinvented their lives while their peers were shopping for strollers. Or watch Under the Tuscan Sun, Julie & Julia (based in part on Child’s book), or Last Holiday starring Queen Latifah for more stories about childfree women who dedicate their free time and passion to creating beautiful homes, beautiful foods, and beautiful lives.
Get creative, follow your bliss, explore what makes you curious, discover the blessings of a childfree life. This week, I have three words for you: Go For It!
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree life. Recently she’s been keeping her eyes and heart open to new experiences that might lead to a fulfilling Plan B. For starters, she’s learning how to run longer distances (and actually enjoy it) and grow edible plants (that actually taste good).
It’s the sister who every time she sees you asks, “So are you…?” The aunt who asks at every big holiday gathering, “When are you going to…?” Or the mother-in-law who passive-aggressively wonders out loud when “Someone” is going to make her a grandmother. You know,
That one relative who just can’t let it go.
Got one? Tell us about him or her, then tell us what you’d like to say back.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I’ve been deep into vegetable gardening since the spring, proving once again that gardeners are the greatest optimists: We plant something and we expect it to grow.
Because I’m still new to my current climate, I’m having to learn about what will thrive here, and am reading up on tips. Recently I learned something interesting:
Water-stressed plants taste better.
Berries are sweeter, tomatoes are more flavorful. Like many novices, I’m likely to overwater at the slightest hint of droopiness, so this tip has me rethinking how I’ll treat my green darlings this growing season.
As I pondered this, I started thinking about how this might apply to my long journey of trying to make peace with being childfree. While I wouldn’t wish being childless-not-by-choice path on anyone, I am seeing some benefits (stay with me) of the stress I’ve been through. I would say that today I am more sensitive to my own needs, more aware of the troubles of others, and more willing to listen with an open heart. As a result of coming through an emotional wringer, I am calmer, I am kinder, I am more compassionate. You might say the stresses I have endured have made me, well, sweeter.
Yes, it’s a bit of a stretch, but like I said, I am an optimist.
Here’s hoping we can all plant a little kindness in our days and reap what we sow.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is telling the story about her journey in The Mother of All Dilemmas. As she shares her quest to become a single mother (and ultimately embraces a life without children), she explores why society still appears to base a woman’s worth on how many children she has. Watch for updates on the book’s release here at LifeWithoutBaby.com.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
A while back we did a series on women who inspire us, women who are our heroes, who happen to be childfree: cheroes.
Recently I came across this interview with Ina Garten, the wonderful “Barefoot Contessa,” in which she addresses why she and her husband, Jeffrey, never had children. “I really felt, I feel, that I would have never been able to have the life I’ve had,” she said. A life that has included an incredibly successful shop, a line of cookbooks, TV shows, and an international fan base. “So it’s a choice,” she said, “and that was the choice I made.”
She goes on to say that she never felt judged by other people for her choice, which I find amazing…and encouraging.
I wish I could be as content with my “choices” as she is. Maybe someday I will be. Meanwhile, what helps me is hearing that other people are being less judgmental of childfree women, cheroes such as Ina Garten are speaking up with positive messages, and women who happen to be childfree are continuing to rock our world.
Who are your cheroes? If you can’t think of one, check out the series we did on LWB and visit Jody Day’s fabulous Gallery of Women: Childless & Childfree Women Role Models on Pinterest.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“It’s really hard to admit that one is suffering from not having children,” Melek* writes. “It’s like admitting being lonely. There is an amount of shame in this.” She further ponders how things might have been easier in ancient Greece, when you could blame the gods when things didn’t go your way. But in today’s world, “we are supposed to be in charge of our own happiness and fate,” despite limitations, flaws, circumstances beyond our control, and realities defined by our biology.
When she was 40, Melek confronted some of those realities and explored options for becoming a single parent, but the discouragement she encountered sent her into a downward spiral. Now, at 50 and single, she’s wrestling with facing what appears to be a lonely future—although I will say I’m encouraged by her fun answer to “What are you looking forward to now?”
Can you relate to her story? If so, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the Comments.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Melek: My dream of motherhood is very much inspired by my own childhood from age 12 years and on, with me, my brother, and our mother living on our own, a small group of survivors in a new country. The strong bond to my mother and the feeling of belonging and being safe is something I would have liked to pass on, and relive, with my own daughter. This is something you can’t share with friends or a partner, or compensate for with activities, however meaningful they may be. I know, because I have been a creative person, expressing myself through both art and writing, my whole life.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Melek: Between the ages 20 to 30, I was struggling with eating disorders and had no energy and motivation for relationships. After 30, I started to desperately look for a partner, but ended up with men who neither wanted children nor loved me enough. I tried to imagine being a single parent, but I didn’t have the courage or the determination. In the end, I didn’t meet a good enough partner and waited too long to make the decision to become a single parent.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Melek: I’m at the point when you really realize what it means, and what it will mean, to not have any children; a stage filled with fear, sadness, and overwhelming regrets.
The older we get, it also gets harder to find friends. There is only one possible “fan club” for older, non-celebrity women, and that is her own family of children and grandchildren. Most of us living in the modern world await loneliness and isolation.
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Melek: I was 40 and I held a newborn baby for the first time in my life, my niece. I was alone with her in my arms for some minutes, the small body feeling surprisingly heavy, walking back and forth with her in a small room, and suddenly finding myself singing something with no words. I felt a calmness I never had experienced before. Everything disappeared, nothing mattered, it was just us, as if we were one. I left the flat, the baby, and the happy parents, and went straight home, in shock, with only one thing in my head: that I must have a baby of my own. I googled fertility clinics and found one. This was actually my second turning point, when I read the statistics. The success rates for women over 40 becoming pregnant was 1% to 2 %. I went into a depression, turned my back on my family, and spent four years in isolation by my own choice. The next time I saw that baby, she was almost five years old and I was a stranger to her. She never warmed to me and I never warmed to her. Every time I see her I’m reminded of my pain and loss. I’m the stiff aunt that no child would love, instead of the warm woman that I know lives inside me, waiting for something that will bring her to life.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Melek: Oh, there is so much that is hard. The feelings mostly, feelings that are buried deep down, but that I know are there. And the realization of the inevitable fate of the lonely woman with no children: dying alone, missed and loved by no one.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’d offer to someone like you?
Melek: I would say have your baby in your twenties. Don’t be afraid of losing your freedom or your identity and all the exciting opportunities you think await you.
And don’t worry that you are not ”ready” for motherhood. Most children survive their childhoods, even if it wasn’t perfect. The image of motherhood as something sacred, demanding total extinction of the female self, is a patriarchal construction. You don’t have to give up yourself or your other dreams. And you can do everything you want in your forties, except (mostly) have a child. This is the one thing, together with certain illnesses, that unfortunately is biologically determined. Be the mother you like to be, but take the step in your twenties.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Melek: Through giving me the opportunity to express myself and put in words things that I normally keep deep inside.
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Melek: To the tent I’ve just ordered. It’s my first tent and it feels very exciting. I had no idea tents were a whole science. I’m not a gear person, but I could easily become one if I could afford it.
*We allow each contributor to choose another name, if she wishes, to protect her privacy.
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.
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.
By Lisa Manterfield
I’ve run this post several times over the years, but it remains one of the hottest topics and the question I’m most often often asked. If you’ve been a reader for while, think of this as a chance to look back and see how far you’ve come.
The question is: is it possible to ever get over being unable to have children?
I can’t see far enough ahead to know for sure if infertility and being childless is something I will ever “get over,” but based on another life-changing experience, here’s what I think:
When I was 15, my dad passed away suddenly and everything changed for me. I remember feeling immediately alienated from the other kids in school because I was no longer like them. I felt as if everyone was staring at me to see how I behaved, to see what someone with a dead dad looked like. People didn’t know what to say me, so many just said nothing. Several adults said variations of “This will make you grow up quickly” so I took them at their word and forged a new grown-up path.
For many years, my dad’s death defined me and I saw everything in my life through that filter. I felt angry and rebelled against people who had living parents, especially if they didn’t appreciate them. Unexpected things would trigger my grief and those old emotions would come at me from nowhere.
Over time, this eased. I went about my life and slowly, the fact that I didn’t have a dad no longer factored in. The trigger situations became less frequent and I thought about his death less and less.
It’s now been 30 years since he passed away. His death no longer directly colors my life. It is something I experienced a long time ago and found my way through. I think about him sometimes, but mostly with fondness and only occasionally do I think about the traumatic time around his death.
I have never forgotten my dad, nor will I ever forget him. His memory and my loss are woven into the fabric of my being, but don’t identify me as someone who has lost. I can say that I am “over” the loss of my dad, but I will never forget that he’s no longer here.
So, now if I go back over this story and replace the loss of my father with the loss of the children I never had, I imagine the story will unfold in much the same way. I’m already on the road to healing. Situations that cause my grief to flare up are very rare these days and the traumatic period of my life is blending into my library of memories. I am well on the way to being “over” infertility and the loss I experienced because of it, but it will always be a part of who I am and I don’t expect I will ever forget.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I should know better. After all these years of seeking advice and giving advice, I should be better able to maneuver through triggering holidays with some grace.
I started Easter Sunday out strong. Instead of subjecting myself to a family-focused church service, I observed the holy day by talking a long walk in a glorious park, what my grandmother called “God’s church.” I avoided brunches in places where I was likely to be surrounded by more happy family gatherings. My husband, dog, and I enjoyed a quiet and reflective day.
Until I turned on Facebook. Egg hunts, colorful baskets overflowing with sweet treats, the Easter Bunny at the mall, proud grandparents, church pews filled with generations of family members, little darlings all dressed up in spring finery. I was crushed as I scrolled through the images of things I’ll never enjoy.
The mother of all holidays is upon us in the United States this week. If you haven’t already, I encourage you to take a break from social media in the days leading up to it and the days following. Please, don’t test yourself, don’t torture yourself.
If it’s an especially tough day for you this year, check in here at LWB and reach out to others on one of the Forums under Community (you’ll need to sign in). Read older blog posts for inspiration and encouragement. Most of all, be gentle with yourself.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
By Lisa Manterfield
With Mother’s Day looming here in the U.S., the shops are full of cards. I wish the racks also contained cards for those of us who don’t relish the celebrations. Just a word or two from someone who understands how it feels to be childless on Mother’s Day could help to make the day more bearable.
You may have seen this article about a cancer survivor who designed her own line of honest greetings cards, the kind she wishes she’d received while she was going through treatment.
It struck me how many of these sentiments apply to us and what a difference it would make to receive this kind of message during a rough patch, to have the grief and loss acknowledged, and to be offered just a word of support.
The idea sent me on a quest to see if such cards exist, and what sentiments they convey. I was encouraged to find some thoughtful miscarriage and baby loss cards, with texts such as:
“My heart aches for you, and I am here to call on when you feel alone.”
“Please know that prayers and thoughts of love and care are being sent your way.”
“Please know that you’re surrounded by heartfelt sympathy for your loss as you gently lay your dreams to rest.”
You can see these cards here.
But, when I went looking for infertility cards, I found something entirely different. Most of the cards were cheery and encouraging, along the lines of “Don’t give up!” “It will happen when it happens, so get some sleep while you can,” and the ever-encouraging “God has a plan for you, so be patient.” (I’m paraphrasing in all these cases, but not much.) In fact, almost all the cards had texts that would make the list of the very last you want to hear.
So, I’m wondering, would appreciate an appropriate card from an understanding loved one this Mother’s Day? If so, what would you want it to say? (Greetings card companies, take note!)
~ "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."
