Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Finding a Community

When I was younger I didn’t really get the whole “girlfriend” thing. My friends were always a mixed bag of male and female and I never felt I had much to contribute to the “girls’ night out” chatter.

I don’t feel that way anymore. Over the years I’ve come to appreciate the value of having a trusted group of female friends to help me through life’s challenges. It’s so good to have people to talk to who know that I’m not perfect and like me anyway, even when I do stupid things. It’s reassuring to know that, when you’re dealing with life’s issues, there’s always someone else who’s been through something similar, and can share war stories and solutions.

When I was dealing with infertility, I didn’t have that 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 this site 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.

Have you found other helpful websites and online communities out there? Please share your finds with us.

Why We Can’t Always Get the Help We Need

Harriet Brown wrote this fascinating article in this week’s New York Times Health section. It’s about how we cope with other people’s crises, or more to the point, how others cope with ours. It was a real eye-opener for me, because I learned a lot about how I deal when people around me are in trouble, but it also shed light on some of the reactions we’ve experienced from other people. For example:

Awkwardness is a common reaction — not knowing what to say or do. Some people say nothing; others, in a rush to relieve the feelings of awkwardness, blurt out well-intentioned but thoughtless comments, like telling the parent of a child with cancer, “My grandmother went through this, so I understand.”

If you’ve dealt with infertility or loss, I know you’ve met these well-meaning people. “My sister tried for 10 years, then gave up and got pregnant.” You know the ones. But why do people do this? Here’s one explanation:

Feelings of vulnerability can lead to a kind of survivor’s guilt: People are grateful that the trauma didn’t happen to them, but they feel deeply ashamed of their reactions. Such emotional discomfort often leads them to avoid the family in crisis.

The author went on to explain that when her teenage daughter was hospitalized with anorexia, many of her friends disappeared, just at a time when she needed them most. Looking back, she realized that the friends who disappeared had daughters the same age as hers.

They could picture all too vividly the same thing happening to their children; they felt too much empathy rather than not enough.

Interesting. Is it possible that some of the people who say things that feel cruel are just putting up their own defense mechanisms to avoid facing something that could happen to them?

Brown concludes by saying:

Thinking back to my own years of crisis, I wondered why I’d focused on the friends who didn’t come through when so many others had.

David B. Adams, a psychologist in private practice in Atlanta adds:

“The human condition is that traumatic events occur, and the reality is that we are equipped to deal with them. The challenge that lies before us is quite often more important than the disappointment that surrounds us.”

We can’t control how those around us react to our crises, or how they help or hinder; all we can do is focus our energies on finding our own way through, and appreciate the people who are there for us.

When a Little Bit of Education Goes a Long Way

A couple of years ago Jose and I went to The Museum of Tolerance here in L.A. My parents grew up in England during the Second World War, so I’m interested in that period of history, and I wanted to learn more about the Holocaust.  MOT is a beautifully designed museum, both the external building, and it’s interior content. But we ended up leaving after only half an hour. Here’s why:

The museum only offers guided tours. You have to travel in a group and stop for the prescribed amount of time at each exhibit and be given all the information either by audio, or by watching a video, or reading. There’s no lingering over especially interesting bits and no jumping forward over areas that don’t grab your attention. For me (and this is a highly rated museum, so this is just my opinion) I felt that I was being force-fed my Holocaust education. The Museum of Tolerance wasn’t very tolerant of my ignorance.

Now, I’m an adult who took a free day from work and chose to visit this museum for my own edification. I have a college education, so I know how to learn under my own power. I wanted to be trusted to take the information and form my own thoughts. I wasn’t given that chance, and so I left, sadly, with my education.

I think that the majority of people out there in the world don’t understand the decision to be childfree and don’t understand how it feels to be childless-not-by-choice. I would say that most of us didn’t understand it either before we had that experience. I believe that we have an obligation to educate, to explain, to show people the other side of the story, but we can’t force-feed that education. The people in the restaurant last week got my back up with their closed minded opinions, but stomping over there and giving them a piece of my mind would have accomplished what? Nothing. Those people didn’t want to be educated, especially not by a complete stranger.

What I can do is work with the people who do mean something to me. When a well meaning (genuinely well-meaning, because there are some actual mean people out there) says something upsetting I have the choice to take the opportunity and explain my side of the story and why I’m upset, or let it go. Getting my hair all on fire and yelling about how insensitive they are isn’t going to help.

We need to talk, educate, explain, show, but only when the audience is willing and only for as long as they’re willing to listen. Bit-by-bit, we can tell our side of the story, and bit-by-bit, we can change the way other people view us.

Tolerance

After last week’s post about the overheard conversation, I’ve been thinking a lot about tolerance and about trying to understand one another. I think that, as a group, we childless women often feel (and often are) misunderstood. We feel that people don’t think before they say things that hurt our feelings, that people with children make assumptions about the type of people we are, that employers assume that, because we don’t have kids, we are the go-to people for extra work. We’re always ready to stand up for one another whenever there’s an injustice done to one of our sisters. I love that about us.

And yet, even among ourselves, we have different frames of reference. There are those of us who are physically unable to have children; those of us who are emotionally unwilling, because of our circumstances; there are those of us who don’t have the opportunity to be parents; those of us who are childless by choice; and those of us who never had the desire for children. And even within those groups, each of us has a different story to tell about how ended up here on this site, looking for other women like us. Each of us looks at our situation through our own personal filters—just like those people out there who look through their own filters and see us differently than we see ourselves, who look at a childless person and see something they cannot understand.

So, I’m writing on a theme this week. It’s a bit of an experiment, so if the wheels fall off by Wednesday, just come back next week and everything should be back to normal. But for this week, I’m writing about tolerance. Stay tuned.

Defending Our Honor

Last night I almost came to blows in defense of our collective honor. It was our last meal out on vacation and we were making it a good one–crisp tablecloths, fresh seafood, flowing wine–you get the picture. The restaurant had all but cleared out as I was sampling the delectable flavors of some homemade lavender ice cream, when I caught a snippet of conversation from the other remaining table.

“He’s very selfish,” said the man, “He doesn’t have children…”

As you can imagine, that caught my attention, so I craned my neck to hear more. Unfortunately I was too far away, but I did catch this:

“Yes, she hasn’t created the next generation. She has three step-children, of course, but that doesn’t count…”

Sisters, I was this close to marching over there and setting this bunch of old coots straight. How dare they assume this man didn’t have children because of his selfishness? How dare they suggest that this woman had an obligation to procreate to carry on some family line. How dare they suggest that raising someone else’s children isn’t a worthy role?

In the end, I decided these people were a lost cause, and that it wasn’t worth ruining my lovely dinner for the sake of their education. There are some people who just aren’t going to get it, no matter what. But I think that our generation is starting to understand and to value people for more than their ability to pop out heirs.

That having been said, when I walked past their table on the way out, you’d better believe I gave them my very best evil eye.

16 Things You Shouldn’t Say to a CNBC

I’ve been cruising around the Internet looking for interesting sites to share on this blog. There are plenty of good ones out there, but I’m finding myself drawn to blogs that have humor, with just a tinge of bitterness thrown in.

La Belette Rouge has just such a blog and I found myself laughing at this post: 16 Things You Shouldn’t Say to a CNBC (childless not by choice.) Granted my laugh was the type you blow down your nose with your lips pursed, rather than an all-out belly laugh, but sometimes a laugh is a laugh is a laugh.

Confessions of A Childless Daughter

I have a confession to make.

My mother doesn’t know about this site.

She’s just now finding her way around the Internet, so it’s probably only a matter of time before she finds me. I’ve even sent her and e-mail with the link in my signature, but either she hasn’t twigged on, or she’s too polite to mention it.

When I was back home in England this past May, I promised my friend that I would tell my mum about my blog, but even when she asked what I was working on, I chickened out. It’s like being 14 again and trying to pluck up the guts to tell her I’ve been invited to a party with a boy.

But I’m not 14; I’m 40, so why can’t I tell my own mother about something I’m really proud of—this website?

Do any of you suffer from being unable to talk about yourself, your work, or your childlessness, even to people you trust?

Friends Who Said the Right Thing

“Just ride your husband like the stallion he is, then flip over like a dead bug.”

“Oh, get IVF. Just do it.”

“My friends just adopted from Guatemala; I’ll have them call you.”

There never seems to be a shortage of people with “helpful,” and usually unsolicited, advice that can send us reeling off with our backs up and our feelings hurt. The above quotes are taken directly from my own experience as I was dealing with infertility. All were from people who cared and wanted to help, and every single one hurt. But what about people who say the right thing?

For every person that said something hurtful, the were two more who said something kind (or sometimes just said nothing at all.) One friend who stands out is the woman who quietly confided that she and her husband had experienced similar issues and come to a decision. “We decided that we were already a family,” she told me. “We were just a family of two.” Her words really made me think about what it was I was questing for and eventually I came to the same conclusion that I was also happy with the family I already had—my husband and my cat.

Who are the people who said exactly the right thing at the right time to you?

The Shame of Childlessness

Recently, a friend confided that shame plays a big part in her life because of her childlessness. She told me:

“I think my Mom is embarrassed that I never had children, especially since there is “no good reason” why I didn’t.   It somehow reflects on her–her nurturing, her mothering skills, etc.  Instead of seeing it purely as my choice, there is a negative connotation for choosing not to have kids.  I think it is the same negative aspersion put on women who never marry. What is wrong with her?”

If you’re childless-by-choice, have you experienced this kind of shame? Are your family and friends supportive of your decision?   What about if you’re childless-not-by choice? Does shame play a role in your life too?

Friends with Kids

Sometimes it’s hard to spend time with friends who have children, especially if that’s all they want to talk about, but here’s an interesting twist that I read in an article recently. The author says:

Right after you have a baby, you avoid childless friends like the plague…at least I did. I’m not sure why. Maybe I feared that I’d feel jealous of their freedom or maybe I was afraid they couldn’t relate.

Interesting. Sound familiar? How many friends with new babies have you taken a wide berth around? She goes on:

That was a mistake because once I started reconnecting with those friends I realized that they are the best cure for parenting overload. And no, it’s not because they can drink more wine. My parent friends are actually heavier drinkers than my kidless friends (wonder why that is?). It’s because they know how to talk about things outside of kids. They actually read the “New York Times” beyond the homepage, see movies in theaters, listen to the latest music, and have travel plans beyond going to Hawaii and Tahoe.

Aha!! Could it be that the very reason we avoid people with children is the exact same reason, they crave our company? Could it be that your friend would love to talk about anything but her kids, but just can’t remember how? Maybe all she needs is a little nudge from you to remember that she still has something to say about politics/photography/gardening/travel?

Next time a friend with kids calls and you think how much you really don’t want to see her because all she’ll do is talk about her kids, consider taking her up on the offer anyway. Maybe that’s exactly what she doesn’t want to talk about, which is why she’s calling you.