Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Nobody Puts Fur Baby in a Corner

Maybe BabyBy Maybe Lady Liz

For those of us without kids, our pets are our children. For those of us who are also insane, our best friends’ animals are essentially our nieces and nephews. We sometimes send them Christmas cards from “Auntie Lizard”, or even draw paw prints as signatures for “Cousin Jacques & Cousin Olivia”. I’m not describing all this to frighten you (though I can only assume I have). I’m merely trying to set the stage for my level of emotional attachment to my best friend’s two cats. And my shock and sadness when she told me she’s getting rid of them because she’s afraid they might not be good around her not-yet-one-year-old daughter.

Before she had a child, her cats received an embarrassing amount of attention. Cuddling and smooching sessions that would have prompted passersby to suggest they get a room. She freely referred to them as her babies and we talked about what wrecks we’d be when our cats eventually passed away. She was the only person in my life who was also considering not having kids, and I assumed we’d grow into crazy old cat ladies together. So imagine my surprise when I went to visit her earlier this year to meet the (unexpected) baby and see the new house, only to find that the cats had been relegated to little more than a nuisance. If they hopped on her lap, they were swiftly brushed off. If they did something she formerly found quirky, it was now supremely annoying.

I knew things had changed, but I can’t say I wasn’t still completely blown away to find out in an email last week that she was getting rid of them. In addition to being afraid they would scratch the baby (though nothing of the sort had yet happened), her main reason was simply that they weren’t getting the attention they deserved. Which, silly me, seemed like a rather easily remedied problem. She was a stay-at-home-mom and spent far more time in proximity to the cats than most pet owners who left every day for work. Was there truly not enough love to go around? Not enough energy to extend an arm and give them a nice scratch under the chin? No room on the couch to let them curl up on your lap during a movie? A spare two minutes for a rousing game of Red Dot?

I know parents will tell me that I just don’t get it since I don’t have kids. And I guess…they’d be right.

Maybe Lady Liz is blogging her way through the decision of whether to create her own Cheerio-encrusted ankle-biters, or remain Childfree. You can follow her through the ups and downs at MaybeBabyMaybeNot.com.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayTomorrow is Independence Day here in the U.S.. This means fireworks, barbecues, family gatherings, and food.

As I’m lucky enough to live close to a beach that hosts a public fireworks display, this also means street closures, snarled traffic, drunks letting off fireworks late into the night, trash strewn all over the beach, the park, and my front lawn, and no parking within a four-block radius of my house for the entire four-day weekend.

There’s no wonder we usual get out of town!

It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s on your mind this week?

Oh, and Happy Independence Day, too!

Familia de Dos – Family of Two

shadow couple - pixabayBy Lorena de Quinto 

Continuing the effort to share resources in other languages, this week I’d like to introduce Lorena de Quinto and her Spanish-language blog, Familia de Dos (Family of Two.)

Somos una familia de dos.  Empecé a escribir con la finalidad de compartir la lucha personal y la bendición de ser una pareja infértil.  Quiero compartirles mi viaje personal, el cual aún  no ha concluido del todo.  Un viaje que para nosotros, fue y es guidado por la mano amorosa de Dios.  El es el Único que nos ha sostenido fuertemente en medio de la tormenta y la calma en este viaje de ser una familia-de-dos.

Les comparto un poco de nuestra historia: Mi esposo y yo estamos pronto a cumplir 12 años de casados. Nos casamos en Abril del 2001.  Actualmente, él tiene 39 años y yo 38.  En nuestro tercer año de casado nos percatamos de que teníamos infertilidad no-explicada: habíamos pasado ya por todos los tests básicos, los cuales mostraban que no había nada raro ni malo en nosotros.  Simplemente no nos podíamos embarazar.  Así, con esto en mente, de que todo estaba bien y nada estaba mal, iniciamos nuestro arduo viaje.  Si sólo era cuestión de esperar, entonces pronto llegarían.  Pero,  ¿qué había sucedido? Éramos buenos Cristianos, o al menos intentábamos serlo.  Estábamos sirviendo en una comunidad cristiana.  Y estábamos seguros de que nuestros hijos llegarían en cualquier momento, ya que esto siempre sucede en aquellos matrimonios que creen en Dios, como la “promesa bendita”, la “recompensa”.   Bueno, finalmente, después de años de intentarlo, estábamos viendo que no siempre sucedía así.  En SU MENTE, hay un plan perfecto para cada pareja (Romanos 8,28).  Sin embargo, aceptar esto nos ha llevado muchos años.  Saben, no es fácil cuando todas las parejas a tu alrededor, parejas de amigos que se casaron en el mismo año que tú, se embarazaron inmediatamente.  Sí, nuestros amigos más cercanos se embarazaron en su luna de miel.

Casi nadie entiende lo que está sucediéndote.  Todos quieren opinar, todos creen tener la respuesta, en fin.  Hay un ambiente complicado, de incomprensión alrededor de un matrimonio infértil (es muy duro sentirse solo y aislado).  Creo que ni ellos están listos ni nosotros para vivir con la etiqueta de infertilidad.

Después de algunos años, tratando de encontrar un lugar perfecto para ser comprendida, empecé a escribir este blog en el 2011.  Es muy difícil ser apoyada por aquellos que no han vivido esta aventura.  Aunque tengo excelentes amigas que hicieron su mejor esfuerzo.

Esta es mi historia, un viaje lleno de lágrimas, risas, soledad, quejas, una historia llena de momentos “ups and downs”; rodeada de incontables comentarios insensibles y dolorosos que te empujan a esa esquina otra vez, donde sólo tú (o con tu pareja) enfrentas esta situación complicada y estresante.  Pero, al mismo tiempo, un viaje lleno de bendiciones, un viaje bendecido (pero llegar a esta aceptación nos ha tomado algunos años).

Es una pérdida verdadera lo que vivimos las parejas infértiles, sin embargo es tan difícil expresarlo y que lo comprendan los demás; pero sabes, hay esperanza, hay una verdadera esperanza para ti y para mí.  Hay una bendición escondida en algún lugar, lista para ser descubierta. Lista para que tú la vivas a plenitud.  Nada en esta vida es un error, y tú eres una bendición. Y tienes algo importante que hacer en esta vida… 

Esta es mi historia: http://familia-de-dos.blogspot.mx/2011/11/nuestra-historia.html 

Family of Two

We are a family-of-two. I started to write for sharing my personal struggle and blessing of being an infertile couple;  I want to share my personal journey that has not finished.  A journey that for us, it was and still is guided by our lovely God. He is the One who has been holding us so hard.

Our story: My husband and I have been married for almost 12 years.  We got married on 2001. He is 39 and I’m 38. In our third year we realized we had unexplained infertility: we had had all the tests, which showed that there was nothing wrong with either of us.  So, in this point we started our journey of grief.  What had happened? We were good Christians or at least were trying to be good.  We were serving in our Christian community.  Incredibly, we were sure that children will arrive to any marriage who believes in God, as a “promised blessing”.  Well, not always.  In HIS MIND, there is a perfect plan for each couple (Rom 8, 28).  But to understand this took us some years.  It’s not easy when all of your couple-friends get married and get pregnant immediately. This was our situation.  Most of our friends got pregnant in their honeymoon.

And not many around us understood what was happening with us.  There’s an incomprehensive environment around the infertile marriage (it’s so hard feeling alone).  All want to share an opinion, all want to fix your life.  I think that no one is prepared to be or to accompany an infertile couple.

And after some years, finding a perfect place for being understood, I started to write this blog (in Spanish), on 2011.  It’s very difficult to be supported for those who have not going through this journey.  Although I have excellent friends who have done their best.

This is my story,  a journey full of tears, laughs, loneliness, complaints, a story of “ups and downs”; surrounded by many painful and insensitive comments pushing you to that corner again, where you alone (or with your partner) face/cope this stressful situation. But at the same time, a blessed journey. 

It’s a real loss, you and I know it, but it’s difficult to express it, but we know there’s hope, there’s a real hope for you and me.  There’s a blessing hidden yet to be discovered in any moment.  This blessing is for you, to live it plentifully.  Nothing in this life is a mistake, and you are a blessing. And you have an important task to perform in this life… 

This is my story: http://familia-de-dos.blogspot.mx/2011/11/nuestra-historia.html

Lorena says: “I’m 38 years old and I’m Mexican. I’m married and I’m a housewife. I love to cook healthy food. I enjoy those days where I can sit down and write for hours. I love God and my husband and I have learnt to enjoy our family-of-two.

 

It Got me Thinking…About Being the Fun Aunt

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

It’s a little hard to see in the photo included in today’s post, but I have a mustache drawn on my finger with a black Magic Marker Pen. I’m posing with a cluster of my nieces and nephews as we all show off our “finger mustaches.” There were eight adults at this party, and six kids under the age of 12, but I was the only grown-up to participate because…I am the Fun Aunt.

Mustache photo 4

Back when becoming a single mom looked like my last option for parenthood, I thought hard about what I would gain and what I would sacrifice. Physical affection, membership in the Mommy Club, social acceptance all landed on my pros list. Financial struggles, sleep deprivation, losing ground in my career made the cons. A random conversation with a close friend reminded me of something else I hadn’t yet considered. Joe and Jane* had been married for several years and were discussing the possibility of starting a family. My conversation with Joe went something like this:

Joe: The thing is, I really don’t want children.

Me: Seriously? Why not?

Joe: Well…I like our life, I like our marriage. And I really like that I am still the “fun uncle” with all of our nieces and nephews.

Me: Can’t you still be fun when you have kids of your own?

Joe: Not really. Think about it. You have to be responsible, a disciplinarian. My brothers and their wives are always too tired to play, too stressed out. But I get to roll around on the floor and wrestle. Jane and I get to be silly and funny, we play games with the kids while the other adults sit around and gripe about how burned out they are. I love the relationships I have with all the kids. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to let them get away with cr*p, but I’m more part of their group of friends than like another strict and boring parent.

I thought about this a lot during my own journey to embracing being childfree, and it really resonated. Although at one time I’d desperately wanted children of my own, I also loved my role as the fun aunt. I still do. You can see that in the photo, a snapshot reminiscent of many such family occasions in which I get to be goofy, silly, playful, kid-like.

Coming to terms with our childfree status, no matter the cause, can be horribly painful. As you progress in your healing, I encourage you to embrace the fact that you get to take on this role in the lives of your nieces and nephews, or with the children of your friends. If you need help getting started, visit the Savvy Auntie site. Founder Melanie Notkin has made an art form of great auntie-ing, and the site has tips, ideas, and support.

There were times when I wondered if just being The World’s Greatest Aunt would be enough for me, and I still don’t have the final answer. But I can tell you that I am in a place in my life in which I am enjoying my role immensely and am grateful for it.

*Not their real names.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree. 

 

It Got Me Thinking…About the Death of a Childfree Friend

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Before I even get into this post, I need to alter my title. It should read “The Death of a Friend (Who Happened to be Childfree).” Okay, that’s better.

Earlier this year, a friend of 20-plus years lost her battle with cancer. Mercifully, her fight wasn’t prolonged and the end came quickly and with little pain and suffering. My grief, on the other hand, was debilitating. I slept at odd hours, I burst into tears at the grocery store (spotted something I knew she liked, realized she’d never enjoy it again), I read something that made me think of her, went to call her, and remembered all over again that she’s gone.

As I told friends who are moms about her passing, what surprised me the most was how often the first question was “Did she have kids?”, to which I answered “No,” to which the response was “That’s good.” This exchange always left me feeling yucky; did this mean that her death and my loss had less of an impact because she wasn’t a mom? I get that it’s good that young children were not left motherless, but I can’t quite agree that it’s good she never had any, yet I know she didn’t feel that her life was lacking in any way. She had an extraordinary life—full of travels and adventures and loving friends—one that wouldn’t have been possible if she’d filled her days with parenting duties.

I wallowed in my grief, and I wallowed in the anticipation of what I perceived will be my own inevitably lonely passing. But before I could start hating all reproducers for their insensitivity, I got a call from another long-time friend, a stay-at-home mom. Even though she had only met the other woman a few times, she cried with me over my loss. She listened to my memories, she shared a few insights, and before long she had me laughing so hard that I was crying again.

In earlier posts I’ve complained about the comments made after tragedies in which children are lost, such as “Only a parent can understand.” I’ve argued that compassion isn’t exclusive to people who happen to be parents. So this experience was my lesson in reverse. In my vulnerable state, I so easily could have locked myself away with my childfree friends. Many friends offered their condolences, yet the one person who really understood, who was able to reach my heart and truly comfort me, is firmly established in the mommy club. Compassion isn’t exclusive to anyone, it’s a human trait. And aren’t we lucky that, when we really need it, it comes to us from many different sources.

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

 

BFF Until Baby

People at beach drinking having a party

 

By Maybe Lady Liz

My college roommate and best friend cried her eyes out the day I told her I was moving to California after graduation, more than 2,000 miles from her final destination of Chicago. We’ve done a relatively impressive job of keeping in touch over the last 8 years, and I think our bond deepened even more when we discovered we were the only people we knew who weren’t sure we wanted to have a baby. The topic dominated our phone conversations for years until I got the call that many of you probably remember receiving from your own best friend as they delivered those two fateful words: I’m pregnant.

Everything changed, of course, but after blogging on these sorts of topics for over a year now, it certainly wasn’t unexpected. She did an admirable job of giving me the non-sugar-coated truth about her unplanned life as a mom and carrying on conversations that weren’t interrupted every 10 seconds with baby cooing. I had high hopes that she’d be one of those parents who remembered and appreciated Life Before Baby, so I waited a respectable six months and planned a trip to meet the latest member of the fam in her new house in Nashville.

This was not an easy affair. Drama at work and sky-high plane tickets ($624 each!) made actually pressing the purchase button on Expedia a real knuckle-biting moment. But I was committed to making sure that my cheapness and laziness wouldn’t be responsible for our friendship not persevering through major life changes and cross-country moves.

Despite having discussed the trip for months ahead of time, my friend’s entire response to the forwarded itinerary was: “Yay! But you do understand that this isn’t going to be like old times, right?” Oh, you mean we’re not going to bong Bud Lights between breastfeeding sessions and subsist entirely on Taco Bell cheesy fiesta potatoes? What have I done?! Of course I knew it wasn’t going to be the same, nor did I want it to be. I’d have some serious concerns about her parental fitness if it was. But this mantra persisted throughout every conversation and email leading up to the trip (“You know we’re not going to be out till all hours, right?” “You know we’re not going to be livin’ it up like before, right?”). Yes, yes! I’ve received the memo, in triplicate!

I’m not sure what bothered me more: the fact that she thought I truly couldn’t process what a monumental life change she’d made and that it might affect our fun levels, or the fact that she didn’t even seem to want me to come or believe that we could now have fun in a different way. I would have been just as content to stay in and play board games while the baby slept, but instead we went out to dinner where my friend propped her cell phone up and touched the screen literally every 5 seconds to see if the sitter was calling until her husband told her she was being rude and we shut down the whole night.

And you know what? That’s okay, I get it – she was nervous leaving the baby with a sitter. I don’t think I would have even blinked about it if she hadn’t spent the month leading up to the trip promising me how much fun we weren’t going to have. I know she was just trying to temper expectations and make sure I wasn’t disappointed. Nobody likes to over-promise and under-deliver. But a little bit of faith in our friendship, a little bit of hope that that we could still have a great time under any conditions, would have left me with a better taste in my mouth, no matter what the outcome. Was that too much to ask?

Maybe Lady Liz is blogging her way through the decision of whether to create her own Cheerio-encrusted ankle-biters, or remain Childfree. You can follow her through the ups and downs at MaybeBabyMaybeNot.com.

It Got Me Thinking…About Nurturers

Girl ThinkingNote: This post originally ran on May 8, 2012 

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!

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s mostly at peace with her decision to be childfree.

 

To Shower or Not To Shower

invitation - pixabayBy Solo Girl 

I have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall on Boxing Day so we can all get together.  And now all those sisters and female cousins are newly married and reproducing.  Every time a baby shower comes up I’m invited, and I wrestle with myself over whether or not I should be able to go yet.

I’ve always been supportive and encouraging with my family, happy to celebrate in another’s happiness.  It’s been four many years since my dream died, and I get the sense that I’m expected to be “over it” by now.

Unsure and not wanting family to think I’m selfish or emotionally immature, I went to a cousin’s baby shower about a year ago.  I mentally prepared myself ahead of time.  For example, I’m terrified of flying, but I know that there is lift-off, food, a movie and a landing, and then it’s done.  I thought about how there would be food, presents and games at this shower, and then it would be done.  I thought to myself “I should be able do this, even my own Mom is expecting me to go.”

I thought the worst part would be the games, but I was wrong.  It was the chitchat.  I actually got stuck between my mother and a cousin having a conversation on the couch about how all the women in our family have long labors.  Seriously.  When I got home I wrote myself a note in black marker and stuck it on my kitchen pin board where it still remains today:  “You never have to go to another baby shower ever again.  No one will notice; no one will care.  It’s torturous.  Don’t Go.  Don’t feel guilty”.

But a year later I still get shower invites and I continue to question whether I am – or should be – ready to attend now.  And I want to know, is it ever going to be something I can attend?  And what can I tell my family that will help them understand how painful it is to attend without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself after all this time?  They have high expectations of me, and I really do think they mean well.  I was in a deep depression four years ago, and I think they are trying to make me normal again.  I think.

I’m glad Irina Vodar is producing a documentary on the subject of infertility that some helpful social norms will come of it.

How do you handle these situations?

Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada.  She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Story Time: Part II

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

Last fall I shared with you that my nephew’s first grade teacher had invited aunts and uncles to be “mystery readers” for the students. (Read the original post here.) The big day has come and gone, and I wanted to tell you that it was everything I’d expected…and less.

I ended up choosing one of my favorite stories, “Atalanta” by Betty Miles. Since the book I have only has two pictures, I decided instead of reading to them, I would invite the students to act out the story with me. Together we posed like the proud king and clever princess, ran in a great race, sounded the trumpets, and cheered with the crowds. I’m not sure the feminist theme of the story got through to anyone (it’s about a princess choosing for herself who she will marry—or if she will choose to marry at all), but I think they all had fun.

I had fun. I practiced for weeks, perfecting my lines, working out character voices and sound effects, pausing for dramatic effect. My husband helped me rehearse in the car and in our living room till I had every beat memorized, because my greatest fear was that I’d get caught up in the performance, lose my place in the story, and muck it all up.

Actually that wasn’t my biggest fear. I’ve had a lot of experience with public speaking and live theater performances, so I knew I’d be fine once I got started (and I’m pretty sure I nailed every bit). What I actually feared the most was that I would be a bucket of weepy emotions. All those sweet faces looking up at me, all the innocent questions and funny comments. The rush of painful reality that I would never have a cute 6-year-old of my own with whom to share my favorite stories. I imagined getting teary-eyed in the classroom or curling up in the back seat of my car for a sob fest afterwards or going home and drowning my sorrows in a bottle of limoncello.

I was fine. One cute thing asked “Are you Jake’s mommy?” and I answered, “Nope, I’m his Aunt Kath.” That was easy.

At the end of the storytelling, I asked the students about the books they were reading, I answered questions about my dog (who so needs his own Facebook page), and then Jake invited me to walk with him to his after-school program. He reached for my hand, and together we crossed the playground. I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt lucky. Lucky to have such a sweet boy in my life, lucky that I live nearby and can be part of his growing-up years, lucky that I have the time and opportunity to do things like be a mystery reader for him and his classmates.

I also am very lucky that Jake’s little brother will be in this class in just two years. I’m already thinking about which story I’ll share with him.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up a memoir about how her experience as a temporary single mommy to her nephew helped her make peace with her childfree status.

 

I am Not Made of Glass

broken glassBy Just Jinny

I found out some great news this weekend. One of my very good friends is finally pregnant. She and her husband have been trying and trying. So I was thrilled and over the moon to find out that it has finally happened for them.

The news also brought to light another issue. How others expect me to handle the news of another pregnancy. Dealing with infertility sort of puts you in a position of always “handling” the fact that someone else is pregnant and you are not.

My friend, bless her heart, was nearly in tears sharing her happy news with me. It’s a bittersweet thing. She didn’t want to hurt me. I get that and I love her for it. And when I shared the news with my mom I could see the concern in her eyes as well. It got me thinking about how others might expect me to react to the news that someone else is pregnant. I wanted to help other people understand what it feels like for me to deal with these emotions.

I am not the type of person to cause a scene. I’m not going to fly off the handle in anger, or in a rage, or in a sobbing heap on the floor. That’s not to say that I don’t get angry, or cry like a baby…I just usually do it in the privacy of my own home. Being constantly depressed, sad, or mad about my “condition” isn’t an option for my state of mind. For me, the only option I have is to be OKAY and to keep going. Some people might think that makes me strong. For me, it’s just my reality. I don’t break down. I don’t give up.

But, I’ve been trying to think of a proper analogy to relate how I do feel when finding out about someone being pregnant. I want other people to be able to try and understand. And I found the perfect example!

Finding out that someone else is pregnant is like having a Charlie horse. It sort of creeps up on you, and then for just a few moments the pain gets so intense that you can’t move. You think it will never go away or get better and that your world will never again be anything but you curled up in bed with that pain. But then the pain does start to lessen, and gradually it fades away until finally you feel normal again.

That is exactly what it feels like for me. Of course, I feel a little pinch in my heart. Of course, I may be a little down and pensive for a moment. It’d be weird if the news didn’t affect me somehow. But, this thing, this infertility thing, will never bring me down for good. Childless or not, I am blessed and highly favored. I have a wonderful life, with a wonderful husband, pets, family, and friends. Infertility will never, ever beat me. And any pregnancy will be celebrated as it deserves to be. Every child is a blessing, even if it’s not mine.

Just Jinny lives in the wilds of West Texas in a love cottage with her rockstar husband, two dogs, and two cats. She blogs about her daily musings at A Girl in the Real World.