Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Karin

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesAlthough she came from a very close extended family, Karin didn’t really think about motherhood until she experienced infertility in her early 30s. Then it became a “dream.” Now 41, she and her husband of 19 years find themselves in a place of mostly acceptance, but she feels somewhat alone in her concerns about the future. If you can relate, please reach out to her—to all of us—in the Comments.

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

Karin: We were first childfree by chance and now it’s by circumstance. After years of unexplained infertility, various drug treatments, one horrific miscarriage, and lots of ovulation kits, my husband and I decided to stop trying for children. At that point, I began a very intense hatred of my body. My [menstrual] cycles were very long and painful, and as I grew older, they got worse and worse. This only intensified the self-loathing I was carrying around. It got so bad that the only option I had left was a hysterectomy. Knowing that I was not going to be able to conceive without massive medical intervention, and knowing that path was not for us, I decided to go through with the hysterectomy. It was the best decision I have ever made. I feel like I got my life back! Thanks to mindfulness training, yoga, and that surgery, I’ve been able to accept my body again and, more important, regain peace.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Karin: I’ve been in the acceptance phase for quite some time. I have a wonderful husband and a very fulfilling job. But the residual feelings of isolation and fear of the future are what dominates my infertility issues now.

LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?

Karin: The fear of who will take care of me when I am old. My grandparents were in wonderful assisted living facilities toward the ends of their lives, but they were still attended to by my mom and my aunts—everything from shopping for basic needs to handling the finances. I cannot think of anyone in my life now who I could rely on to help us in our old age. My husband is an only child, and my sister has only one daughter. I do not have the nieces and nephews that many others have and will hopefully rely on when the time comes. And this truly terrifies me. This is, by far, the most difficult issue for me now. I feel quite alone in this. I don’t think many other people who are childfree have this worry, or, if they do, it is not as intense as mine. Also, I am the only person in my immediate social circle who does not have children. I feel like all the feelings of loss and isolation will resurface when my friends become grandparents.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Karin: That I’m stronger than I thought I could ever be. You read that going through infertility will make you a stronger person, but until you actually feel it, it’s hard to believe. I’ve also learned to live life as consciously as I can with as much compassion as I can muster. Living a life with as little harm as possible toward others, including the environment around me, is rewarding and purposeful. I didn’t feel it this intensely prior to trying for children.

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

Karin: I say “NOPE!” And if they ask why not, I simply say “We tried and it didn’t work out.” That usually stops people. Occasionally, people will ask why we didn’t adopt, and I say adopting does not cure infertility and we believe adoption is a calling that we just didn’t have.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Karin: It was the first community that got it!! Besides Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos’ book Silent Sorority, what else did we have? LWB has been so incredibly integral in my journey that it’s hard to put into words. I would, however, like to see more information or discussion by others about being childfree in old age and the new dynamics that will come into play when we are not just non-moms but non-grandmothers!

 

We’d love to hear your story! Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

It Got Me Thinking…About Greener Grass

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

It was early in the morning on a national holiday. I was walking to our gym when I passed one of our neighbors as she loaded kids and gear into a minivan.

“Off to the gym?” she asked, grunting as she hoisted a toddler into his car seat.

“Yup.”

“I would give anything to trade places with you.”

For a split second I paused, then replied with the only response that seemed appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

As I continued down the street, it dawned on me that for the first time in years I wasn’t feeling (a) judgmental (she was, after all, dissing her kids) or (b) wistful. So often in the past I would have thought how I would have traded anything to have precious kids of my own, but now, not so much. I was pretty happy with the prospect of spending my holiday taking care of myself, maybe even reading a book or taking a nap instead of having to read a book to someone else hoping he would settle down for a nap.  I didn’t feel sorry for or envious of my neighbor, and I didn’t want to trade my grass for her grass. The grass was perfectly green on my side of the street.

Me thinks the healing process has begun.

It Got Me Thinking…About Nurturers

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I can bitch with the best about how much I loathe the holiday that’s coming up this Sunday. I’ve spent past years avoiding church, restaurants, flower shops, TV ads, and, well, people who brightly wished me “HAPPY (you-know-who’s) DAY!” It was easier to hibernate than face painful reminders of what I am not.

But this year is different. This year I am embracing the second Sunday in May because a wise friend has transformed it for me. This year I am pulling out all the stops and celebrating because I am…drumroll, please…a Nurturer!

Here’s the message my friend sent out last May, and it is my message to you.

To the nurturers in us all: For helping friends in need, for compassion for strangers in pain, for helping children to learn, and for being good stewards of our world…Happy Nurturer’s Day!

If you are an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a coach, or a listener. If you’ve comforted another person, if you’ve offered support or encouragement, or if you’ve shared a hug. If you’ve read something on this site and responded with kind words or sent up a prayer for a sister in need. If you’ve been any or all of these things, then it’s time you acknowledge yourself.

You’ve been there for me, in our forums, in your comments, in your presence here with us on this site. For that I say, Thank you! and Happy Nurturer’s Day!

The Emotional Waves of Mother’s Day

By Paulina Grace Hay

MP900399009Mother’s Day is looming and, once again, I find myself waiting for it to be over. It feels like I’m holding my breath underwater, hoping that no one sees me, the water creating a lovely muffle to drown out all the celebrations around me. When it’s over, I come up and gasp for air, crawling back to the shore.

Last year, even though I did my best to become a record setter in holding my breath, I had to come for air a lot. Some breaths were easy and others were labored. Before I went under, I filled up my oxygen tank with some good feelings. I started my day by reaching out to my fellow childless friends and my friends who have lost their mother or aren’t close with their mothers. It makes so happy when they seem genuinely surprised and touched that someone thought of them on Mother’s Day. Sure enough, I had a friend unload how she was having a triple whammy of a day – it was her birthday, the anniversary of her mother’s death and she’s childless. I didn’t know what to say, but offered an ear if she needed it and to share my plate of brownies with her.

Then I received a text from my brother wishing me a “Happy Mother’s Day – hope it’s a great one!” I just wanted to say, “Are you serious? You know what I’ve been through. How can you say that to me?” Instead I wrote an email both my brothers, with an honest account of how I spend my day. I finished with how on days like this it would be nice to hear from them that they appreciate how I try to make their kids feel special and that I watch over our parents so they don’t have to. I was proud of myself for being vulnerable and stating what I needed.

Until they responded.

One wrote back quickly stating yet again that he cannot be expected to understand how difficult it is to have gone through a miscarriage. He always tells his girls, he said, how lucky they are to have me (even though I rarely get to see them.) I was hurt but not overly surprised by his response. Learning through Brené Brown why such comments are painful has been so helpful. His comments create distance not connection. That happened to you, not me – thank god. “I can’t understand” means “I really don’t want to try to understand.” Telling his girls to appreciate me is not telling me he appreciates me.

The other responded a bit later with a more seemingly thoughtful response. He was kind in saying that he does appreciate me every day. Then he went on to share a few stories to “one up” my sadness. Essentially the message was, “Stop whining. There are people that have it a lot worse than you.” He closed with how he would pray for me. It is devastating when someone belittles your pain, but Brené helped me reclaim it. My pain is my pain and it hurts like hell, even if he can’t see it. Also, his comment to pray for me felt like, “I can’t handle this but this makes me feel good about myself.”

My siblings aren’t bad people and if nothing else I hope that sharing my story helps them find a path to empathy, even if that’s a road we never travel together. I am proud of myself for standing in my truth regardless of the outcome. Going forward I likely won’t share another vulnerable moment like that with them. It’s time for me to move on.

I reached out an old male friend and asked if he had time to talk. I knew he wouldn’t be celebrating Mother’s Day because he was estranged from his mom. Over our decade of friendship, he’s occasionally given me a glimpse inside his fractured family. We talked for a long time about life and work. I never mentioned my pain. I was just content to remind myself that I had a good male connection in my life that cared for me just as I am. I later texted him and told him briefly what our conversation had meant to me, even if it seemed rather ordinary. He gave me a gift without even knowing it so I wanted him to know.

Later I received an e-mail from a family friend’s daughter who said that it had meant so much to her over the years that I always reached out to her on Mother’s Day since her mom had passed. She was now sitting down to do the same for another family friend. It was a much-needed breath of fresh air to know my small gestures did change her outlook on this day.

As I prepare for Mother’s Day this year, it helps to know I am not alone. That there are people who love me for who I am, and that I can make a difference to others helps me to take a deep breath and keep living.

You Are Not Alone: Finding My Tribe and Discovering New Friends

By Lisa Manterfield

The worst thing about moving 400 miles to the northern part of my state was leaving all my friends behind. In my new city, I knew exactly three people, plus one good friend who lived an hour’s drive away.

One week, while my husband was traveling, I spent much of the time alone, and frankly I felt a bit sorry for myself.

Then, on the Monday “Laura” sent me a copy of her book. I read a couple of chapters and it made me laugh. On Tuesday I spoke on the phone with “Paulina”, who was snowed under in Indiana. I’ve never met her, but we’ve become phone friends over the last couple of years.  Later in the week, I chatted by email to Monica and Jody, and made plans to have coffee with Kathleen. I also finalized lunch plans with Pamela, something we’d been trying to accomplish for months, and I discovered that a long-time LWB reader lived in the next town over, so we met for drinks.

I share one thing in common with all these women, and that is that we are childless, but beyond that I’ve discovered we have so much more to talk about, and that these women have become my friends.

When I was dealing with infertility, I didn’t have this community. Although my friends were supportive and kind, none of them had been through anything like it. I looked for an online community, but couldn’t find one where I felt comfortable. I really did feel that I went through that whole chapter of my life almost alone.

I started Life Without Baby to talk about life after infertility and to be heard, but the pleasant surprise for me is that I’ve finally found a wonderful community of women who want to talk, listen, help, and support one another. And we’re not just talking about infertility and being childless; we’re talking about books, gardening, travel, pets, family, you name it.

I know that many of us feel, or have felt, isolated in our childlessness, and that the web has enabled us to find our tribe. And beyond that commonality are the possibilities for friendships, and I encourage you to find those opportunities.

On the private community pages, you’ll find a chat feature, and the forums are always buzzing. There are regional groups and groups for different interests. Behind this password protected wall you can safely send messages to other members or say hello on their walls.  There are plenty of ways to make connections and hopefully to make some new friends.

2015-blog-challenge-badgeThis week (April 19-25) is National Infertility Awareness Week. Of the many, many lessons I’ve learned on my own infertility journey, perhaps the most important one—the one that made it survivable—is also this year’s theme: You Are Not Alone.

Whiny Wednesday: People Who Won’t Let You Quit

Whiny_WednesdayMost people in my life were supportive when I told them about my decision to end my quest for motherhood. But a couple didn’t want me to quit. They kept offering unsolicited advice and stories of other people’s miracles, when what I really needed from them was a kind and understanding word.

So this week’s whine topic is:

People who won’t let you quit

Happy whining!

Whiny Wednesday: Menopause

Whiny_WednesdayI’m currently enjoying a journey into menopause. Yeah, it’s a hoot. All the symptoms of PMS, plus fuzzy head, weight gain, night sweats, the works.

I’ve been prescribed HRT and I’ve been reaching out to older friends for advice, because there’s a lot about this I don’t know. Most of my friends have gladly offered support, however one woman (a friend of a friend) looked at me and said, “Menopause? You’re too young for that.”

I assured her I was not, and left the conversation, but really, is that a helpful thing to say? Yes, I know I’m too young for menopause. Add it to the list of things my body’s given up before its time. And then ask me how I feel about the possibility the rest of me might be aging faster than it should too. Does this ever end?

As you may have guessed, it’s Whiny Wednesday. I feel better for my venting. Hope you feel better for yours.

P.S. This in NO April Fool’s joke, believe me.

Marking Anniversaries…The Happy and the Sad

By Lisa Manterfield

LWBlogo_color_compact
March is a funny old month for me. It’s filled with all kinds of anniversaries, both happy and sad.

March is the month I lost my dad (sad) and, later, my stepdad (also sad).

March is also the month I married Mr. Fab (happy). We celebrate 11 years this year (very happy).

March is the month Mr. Fab’s granddaughter was born (happy and sad) and quickly became the month we decided to stop the quest for a child of our own (very, very sad).

It’s also the month I wrote my very first post on this blog (sad at the time, but very happy now).

So you can see, checking off the days on the March calendar can be a bit of an emotional ride.

What I notice, though, is that with each passing year, I’m less sad about the sad anniversaries and more happy about the happy ones. Even though “time heals all wounds” can ring hollow in a time of sadness, I’ve come to learn that it’s actually true.

Five years ago, when I wrote my first post, I couldn’t imagine that life could be happy without children. Oh sure, I knew I’d “get over it” eventually, but I never expected to move beyond the sadness.

What I’ve learned from all my sad anniversaries is that the sadness gets smaller every year, just a little at first, sometimes so little that you barely notice, until one day you can talk about the thing you’ve lost without choking on the sadness.

The sadness doesn’t completely go away, but most days it’s so small I barely notice it.

 

What’s next?

Anniversaries of all kinds are a good time to step back, reevaluate, and look back at how far we’ve come.

When I look back at some of my early posts on this blog, I see a woman who was angry and lost, but also skirting the deeper emotional truths about what she was going through. And she was still hiding in shame.

Later, I found a way to write more openly about how I felt, and eventually I was able to gain insight into the effects of my loss and how I might have better handled my grief.

These days, I’ll admit that I don’t have much new to say. I’m still learning, of course, but much I’ve what I’ve learned on my journey has been channeled into the ebook series, which I hope will continue to help other women stepping onto this path.

Those of you who’ve been long-time readers (and thank you for your support over the years) will no doubt understand how something that once consumed every waking moment can become something you think about only once in a while.

I also know that new readers are experiencing this for the first time, and I want to maintain this community, because I know it’s one of the few places to find true support and to be able to voice what our friends and family often don’t understand.

Over the coming year, I plan to rerun some of the more helpful posts from the past five years, as well as new ones as they come up. There’ll be posts from Kathleen and me, and of course, I wouldn’t dare take away Whiny Wednesday. If you’ve been a reader for a while, it’s a good way to see how far you’ve come over the years. If you’re a new reader, I hope you’ll find these posts resonate with you.

And what will I be doing with all my spare time if I’m not writing new posts? I’ll be working on the final book in the series, due out in June. I’m also working like crazy on a new novel that I hope to be able to tell you more about soon.

 

And there are presents!

As this is a celebration, of course there are presents. Several people have asked me if the ebook series will be available in format other than for e-readers. The ultimate goal is to put all four ebooks together as a print book later this year, but in the meantime, I’ve created downloadable PDFs of the books.

In honor of our five years together, you can grab yourself a free copy of the first book in the series. It will be available until the end of March, and can you get your copy by using this special link.

Get your free ebook

The other two books are also now available in this format here:

Workbook 2: Getting Through the Grief of Childlessness

Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges

Workbook 4: Thriving in a New Happily Ever After (Out June 2014. Available for pre-order)

So, all that’s left is to say thank you for your ongoing support, for showing up here and reminding me that I’m not alone, and for continuing to support and help one another on this journey. I’m very honored to share this space with you.

~Lisa

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayBe honest. Have you ever turned down an invitation to a social event because you’re afraid someone will ask if you have children?

That’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Avoiding meeting new people in case they ask, “Do you have kids?”

As always, the comments are wide open for other whines you might have this week.

It Got Me Thinking…About (Not) Giving Up

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

IGMTThe coach was disengaged, half of the team hadn’t shown up, which meant our team was down two players compared to their opponents, and our girls couldn’t seem to make any progress toward the goal. They were being humiliated, and, by the half, my niece was beyond discouraged. No one out there that day would have blamed them for forfeiting the game, however….

As she came over to my brother and me on the sidelines, we had our pep talk ready, built on years, if not decades, of experience in disappointments and failures.

“Your teammates are giving 110%, they’re playing with their whole hearts. You can’t give up on them!”

“See it through, finish what you started. Get out there and do your best, and I promise you will feel proud of yourself for the effort.”

“Choose your attitude! Get in it to win it!”

As she jogged back out on the field and rallied her teammates, I wondered if we’d given her the right advice. Perhaps this should have been a lesson in losing gracefully? But what was done was done, and we watched as those amazing young women pulled together as a team, turned the tide, and won the game…by three points!

It was an awesome experience, one that I am so glad I was able to share with her. It was thrilling to witness her incredible triumph. And as I drove home, I reflected upon what the lesson had been for me. It wasn’t, “Don’t give up! Give one last miracle for having a baby a go!” I’m way past that. Instead, what I heard from the sweet, small voice deep inside me was, “Don’t give up on yourself. You have something to offer the world, so keep your eye on the goal and keep kicking!”

Have I been down, beaten, discouraged, humiliated? Oh, yes. Would anyone fault me for staying down? Maybe. But today I choose to get back up, and I hope you’ll get up with me and give it—whatever “it” may be for you—one more try. You—yes, YOU!—have something special to offer the world. Don’t give up!

 

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