Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Lessons Learned From The Brink: Know Your Love Language

By Paulina Grace Hay

HeartAfter living through a second miscarriage and the brink of divorce within a matter of months, I’ve gained some new crucial resources in my emotional toolbox. Here’s one lesson taught to me by a therapist that I come back to repeatedly. It made a huge impact in connecting with husband while I was dealing with the emotional roller coaster of infertility. When I begin to feel disconnected today, I come back to these basics.

Know Your Love Language

Have you ever felt like you were speaking to someone you love and feel like they didn’t understand you at all? I remember feeling like I spoke Chinese and my spouse French. We basically had no idea what the other was saying. As you can imagine, it’s hard to connect if you can’t communicate clearly or you don’t think you’re being heard.

Enter Dr. Gary Chapman and his best selling book called The 5 Love Languages. It’s truly the one book I think every person on this planet should be required to read. (The original version is about marriage, but it applies beautifully to dealing with human beings in general.)

According to Dr. Chapman and his extensive experience as marriage counselor, there are five love languages. Each one is a way to show love and to be shown love. You might have a primary and secondary one and even speak another. Here’s a brief overview with examples from my marriage and life:

Words of Affirmation:
If you like being praised or receiving a beautifully written note, this could be you. If you enjoy talking or writing, this might also be you. If someone criticizes you, it can feel like a slap in the face.

This is definitely my primary love language! I’m very verbal and my husband very quiet. When we would argue he would stop talking and shut down. Now he knows I’d much rather receive a personal note over a gift like jewelry.

Physical Touch:
This is not just about sex. It might be a hug, stroking hair, a pat on the back, or holding hands. This is my husband’s primary love language. When we would fight I’d say, “Don’t touch me” and “I want to be alone.” Total disaster for both of us! Now I make a point to give him several hugs and kisses during the day or just sit with him on the couch.

Acts of Service:
If you like doing things for other people, this could be you. This is a love language my husband uses to “speak” his love to me, even though I didn’t realize it for quite a while. It was my sister-in-law (who is married to my husband’s brother) who commented that “acts of service” is the love language that her husband “speaks” to her. It was like a light bulb went off. Now I make an extra point to say thank you and appreciate when my husband does things like walk the dog, take out the trash, and help my parents.

Receiving Gifts:
If you like giving gifts, small or large, this could be you. If someone doesn’t give you a gift (or doesn’t like your gift) and that upsets you, this could also be you.

My sister-in-law (married to my brother) is this love language. She would always bring me a trinket or something when they came to visit. (We have very different taste so I rarely enjoyed the gifts.) I’d exchange a holiday gift if I didn’t like it. I’d give my gifts to them with a gift receipt and didn’t think twice about it if they exchanged it. They never did. We were never very close. The following Christmas I saw a little statue with a mother and two young boys and it instantly made me think of my SIL. I bought it for her. When she opened the gift, which wasn’t extravagant, she cried like a baby. I knew I’d tapped into her love language. I stopped exchanging their gifts and told her how much I liked them. It’s gone a long way in improving our relationship.

Quality Time:
This one is all about giving another person your undivided attention. For women this often means face-to-face attention. Talking to your spouse while he’s watching television or staring at his phone is not undivided attention. My husband is really great now at pausing the television and talking to me when I need it. I try to be clear when I need his attention and say, “Is now a good time to talk? Let me know when you’re free.” It’s more respectful of his time and energy.

I’d love to hear what your love language is and if this information gives you new perspective on the relationships in your life. Not sure which one you are? Start here with the 5 Love Languages online quiz at:
http://www.5lovelanguages.com/profile/

If you’d like more information on the 5 Love Languages, visit Dr. Chapman’s website at:
http://www.5lovelanguages.com

Paulina Grace walked away from the infertility roller coaster six years ago. She hopes to help other women let themselves grieve and then let themselves live. Outside of running her own business, Paulina fulfills her need to nurture by being an involved aunt and caring for her aging parents.

It Got Me Thinking…About Makers: Women Who Make America

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Girl ThinkingI stumbled upon this fantastic interview of Gloria Steinem in which she addresses—among other thought-provoking topics—how she felt about being single and childfree during a time when “women weren’t seen as much as a voice but more barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

I don’t want to print any spoilers, so I hope you’ll read it for yourself. Let me just say she inspires and empowers me and, like her, I am a “hope-aholic.”

Ms. Steinem is someone we would call a chero here, a hero who happens to be childfree. She is one of many included in the PBS documentary MAKERS: Women Who Make America. You can learn more about the Makers initiative and the documentaries here.

 

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

Shadow Lives

By Paula Coston

Image courtesy of Ideago/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of Ideago/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I’m 59 now, and over those close-on six decades I have mapped out in my mind an entire web of paths untaken. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve. And for that reason, Chapter 7 of Jody Day’s book Rocking the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Life without Children chimes with me. (Jody is the founder of Gateway Women, a British-based website for women childless by circumstance.)

The chapter’s first two sections are headed “The shadow of the life unlived” and “The dark side of daydreams.” She shares her own experience with searing frankness:

“For many years I’d been living two lives: one in which I was hoping for a baby and making the best of things till then, the other in which I had succeeded and had become a mother….

“At no point in that time… did I fully and completely embrace the life I was actually living—that of a childless woman….

“I think of the ‘shadow life’ as the life you dreamt about while your ‘real’ life was happening and … which … depleted the life you were actually living.”

We all have our path forks. A few of mine happened when:

– Somewhere in my childhood, I believed my family was encouraging me in the single, career-driven life, not a life of love and family.

– Over the years a couple of men proposed to me, both in fun. Friends laughed too, hearing about it.

– It became clear to me that one special lover had serious issues about parenthood, so when the option came up for us, I knew I had to forgo it.

– Neighbors and colleagues at work became grandmothers, and, like a photograph gradually developing, I soon saw that I never would.

Slowly, I’m coming to terms with these losses. These days, what fascinates me more is the way we persist in tracing and re-tracing these ghosts of roads untaken.

I wonder whether, once we surmount the pain, their rehearsal can bring us comfort. Why not trust that we’re living our shadow lives somewhere else close by, if it helps? Maybe the psyche is instinctively drawn to the idea of alternative realities. And if you’re a writer—like me—well, it’s unavoidable.

In 1964, a TV soap, Another World, started on NBC, set in the fictional town of Bay City. It was so popular that it ran till 1999! The co-creator Irna Phillips explained the idea behind it: “We do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand other worlds.” Bay City and its happenings represented to her the difference between “the world of events we live in, and the world of feelings and dreams that we strive for.”

Over the last four years, my best therapy has been to struggle with, and beat, writing a novel. It just came out on June 27, entitled On the Far Side, There’s a Boy. It tells the tale of a woman who doesn’t know that she even contemplates having children until she begins to dream—of one particular boy in Sri Lanka, whom she has known only through letters, so only half-known—and to see that he is what she wanted: even, what she may still want. It’s a kind of fantasy experience, parallel to her real life.

Aptly, her story echoes much that has happened to me. So these days, I’m learning to live with my shadow lives, to let them be and wend their ways, sometimes even to enjoy them.

I think I’ll term myself an AMo. Meaning “I love” in Latin, it also suggests that I’m a kind of Alternative Mother, somehow living both lives, the one I have and the one I didn’t, in harmony.

Paula Coston’s On the Far Side, There’s a Boy is available in paperback and e-book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/paulacoston

It Got Me Thinking…About Burdens

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Girl ThinkingI am a huge fan of watching kids of all ages participate in just about any kind of sporting or performing event. I don’t care if a player is running toward the wrong goal or if the opposing team scores the most points or if the knight in tin-foil armor has to have his lines whispered to him from the teacher behind the curtain. I applaud and enjoy it all.

Watching my own kids was one of the activities I most looked forward to participating in as a proud parent. Alas…no kids for me. And since it would be weird if I showed up to watch a random game at the park, I put the word out to siblings and friends to let me know when I could come watch their kids.

“Send me the game schedule,” I said to a friend after she complained to me about how much time she spends chauffeuring her boys to practices. “When’s the next match?” I texted to another friend after getting a video clip of her daughter scoring a game-winning point. Despite multiple requests, I rarely got a response. Finally I pinned one friend down. “I’m serious!” I said. “I really really want to go watch your daughter play.” “Really?” she said. “We didn’t send you the schedule because we didn’t want you to feel obligated, we didn’t want to burden you.”

What followed was an open chat about how much I loved watching kids play, how much I missed being able to watch my own kids play, and how I hoped I could ease my feelings of loss by watching her kids at play. She got it. She finally heard me, and a couple of weeks later I had a seat in the bleachers.

It’s not easy or fun putting ourselves out there like this, but if you’ve been sitting on the sidelines too long, I encourage you to persist. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be part of the fun.

 

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

Guest Post: Moving Past “Maybe”

By Katrina Blaydon

peaceI will be 34 in a few months and my husband of 3 years and I have been trying to have a baby for the past year and a half. I have PCOS and do not ovulate. He, however, is just fine. So, if I take a course of fertility drugs every month on particular dates, I ovulate. Problem solved. So, it was a very frustrating process to learn that every four weeks, we would face another heartbreak, despite physically being “able.” And it was less than comforting, when our wonderful doctor, whom we trust, said point blank, “I’m sorry you aren’t pregnant yet. I’m frustrated about this too, and I can’t explain it.”

Every month, we would anxiously and silently go out of our minds with a mix of excitement and sorrow, hope and heartbreak. Then one day, as I got teary eyed by myself at work in the bathroom stall discovering once again that I was not to be a mother, I decided that I could not do it one more time. I spoke with my husband, who is wonderful, who loves me and wants me to be happy, but who also wants to a father. We decided together, for our sanity and health, we needed to consider a way for us to “move on” and pursue other plans.

That entire time of hope and heartache, I had to live in a state of “maybe” and “what if.” Could I take Advil for a headache if I’m possibly pregnant? I had a cold this past winter, and I couldn’t take Dayquil, in case “maybe” I was pregnant. I couldn’t plan a beach trip with my girlfriends because maybe I would be pregnant by then and wanted to save my time off for maternity leave. I couldn’t plan my life; I couldn’t even cure a headache… That’s when I realized: I need to learn to move past “the maybe” of it.

It was a feeling of pure anger and fury over the situation. I likened it to seeing myself as a child stomping my feet and pumping my fists at God, saying, “I want this and you won’t give it to me!” And to be honest, those feelings were worse than feeling sad every four weeks because after that sadness, I could find hope again. But knowing that, after this anger would come bitterness for friends and coworkers who announced joyfully planned pregnancies, wasn’t easy to grasp.

As with anything, it got worse before it got better, and it took a few months to reach a point of not feeling red hot at the thought of it. I started attending church after months away, as if I were being the stubborn child who rebelled, saying, “I’ll show Him!” The truth was, I was too angry and too bitter to pray. I couldn’t praise a God who decided that a homeless teenager, or a crack addict, or a single mom who couldn’t feed the six children she already had, was destined to be a parent, instead of us. I couldn’t understand that, and I still don’t. I still get red cheeked when I think about that, but it’s not 24 hours a day anymore of anger. It’s not a sleepless night every single evening of the week anymore, and it’s not a daily breakdown in tears anymore. I’ve made great progress.

Learning to move past the state of maybe, was the only way I could allow myself any peace. I am not going to lie and say that I don’t feel those same feelings when I get invited to a first birthday party or the worst of them all, the baby shower. And yes, something like a bomb explodes in my chest when someone unknowingly asks me, “Are you two going to be next?” or “So, when are you two going to start a family?” And yes, I still cry sometimes, just because I feel sad about it. But, overall, my general day to day life is not consumed by it.

By working to accept a childless status, it’s brought me peace and a feeling of knowing the pressure is off. I can make other plans. I’m finally able to let go and feel “lighter” somehow without this unfinished agenda constantly in the back of my head. I try to be thankful for a good night’s sleep, or to have a free weekend to get away with my husband, or spend Saturday mornings gardening instead of dashing to and from soccer fields. We enjoy a spontaneous date night on a Wednesday without worrying about a sitter and bath time routines. We are thankful to have time to enjoy our friends. I enjoy quiet time for myself and yet, I still cry about all the silence in our house. But learning to move past “maybe” has let my heart rest and it’s let my mind relax, and it allowed me to pursue a greater health and wellness plan for my body. Maybe that’s when it’s time to move past the maybe and learn to consciously enjoy the life you are living. After all, the “maybe” will be there whether you are planning on it or not. And as one of my most encouraging friends told me, “Plans can be changed.” Yet another thing for which this infertile woman is thankful.

Katrina has her B.A. from Penn State University. She lives in central PA with her husband of three years.

Lessons Learned From The Brink: Finding Support and Community

By Paulina Grace Hay

People's mandala - 12 handsA personal crisis of any kind can quickly throw your own intuition off kilter.  It can also show you what support you do and do not have around you.  I seem to come back to the need for support and community over and over.  My immediate family is not an option and close friends live far away.  What’s a girl to do?  Here’s a stroll down my life tackling these issues*.

*If at any time my stepping stones don’t resonate with you, don’t sweat it.  We’re all different, go with what works for you.  A good guideline to determine what or who works in your life is, “Do you come away feeling energized/lighter or drained/weighed down?”

Here are a few avenues I’ve tried over the years:

Professional Therapist

I struggled with needing to talk to a “professional” about sorting and processing my emotions.  I still do at times.  However, I’m a talker and my love language is words of affirmation so talk therapy is a natural fit for me.  Having someone I trust who has no vested interest or active part in my day-to-day life is crucial.  Behind closed doors and the promise of confidentiality I can let it all hang out emotionally without fear of judgment or rejection.  My therapist is also a professional with an incredible wealth of knowledge.  He or she can provide me with an unbiased opinion and on what is happening plus new ways to deal with triggers.

I use this option on an “as needed” basis.  When I’m feeling out of sorts for an extended period of time I find going in can help me pinpoint an issue more quickly.

 

In Person Infertility Support Group

Initially it felt safer and easier to process my feelings in the safety of my own home, in a private therapist’s office or behind a computer screen.  Yet, at some point I felt it was important to let this seemingly broken part of myself out into the daylight.  Regardless, I don’t think anyone is pumped about attending her first infertility support group.  What I found there were beautiful, smart and funny women even in the midst of pain and heartbreak.  It was refreshing to talk about our challenges openly.  I liked seeing all the head nodding and saying, “Oh, yes, that’s happened to me, too.”  We shed tears together and laughed out loud a lot.  Hearing everyone’s stories gave me new perspectives on mine.  Most importantly, I knew I was not alone on this journey.

The hardest part of an in person group for me was when to decide to stop going.  Everyone’s stories helped me realize much faster that I was not cut out for 1 or multiple rounds of IVF.  I learned why adoption was not going to solve my desire to be pregnant and see my genes and my husband’s in a new life.  The biggest eye opener was that I saw how my life had come to a screeching halt because of infertility.  I wanted to live again.  After I had made my decision to live childfree I found that going to the group was confusing.  It made me second guess my decision because most women were still actively trying.  I stayed friends with a couple of the women for a while and that was a better option.  If there was an in-person group for childfree women after infertililty, I would consider going to that now.

 

Online Blogs and Support

I’m so grateful for the LifeWithoutBaby blog and Lisa’s work.  When it’s 3 am and you’re crying in the dark, a blog post can be a friend that gets you through to 7 am and daylight.  What makes LWB especially appealing to me is there are no surprise, “Oh, I’m pregnant so welcome to my mommy blog!” transformations.  At times, I have to be very selective on where I let online wandering take me.  When I was feeling low, the wrong blog could make me feel worse.  The internet is wonderful in all it offers but sometimes being a little sheltered when you’re vulnerable is not a bad thing!

I also appreciate the new opportunity to guest blog post and share my stories to help women like me.

 

Art Journaling

Credit: http://www.cathymalchiodi.com/

Even though I’m creative in my professional life, I hadn’t done art purely for enjoyment in decades.  After attending an art workshop retreat (a scary move but life changing) I realized that I wanted to create for my sake and not for profitability’s sake.  I learned about art journaling there.  An art or visual journal is an illustrated diary or journal on any theme.  I paint, collage, write, doodle, whatever I want in mine.  I’ll often use my journals to keep quotes I’ve found on line or even articles.  I put photos of women I admire or the kind of life I want to lead to help me remember what I want for myself.  I’ve met many wonderful women through art, too.

 

Get Out of the House

When I’ve felt unsure of my place in my own world, I push myself out the door to get out into other ones.  In the age of the Internet, there are so many ways to get involved in organizations and meet new people.  Here are some activities I’ve tried over the years.  Some were great, others were busts, but ultimately I feel if I keep trying new stuff, new good things are more likely to come my way.

  • Improv Class – one of my favorites.  I would laugh every week and who couldn’t use more of that?!
  • Attended a TEDx conference in a city an hour away by myself.  It was unnerving to not know anyone but I had an incredible lunch with an older woman who told me about her life story.  I also heard a speaker talk about a small girls rock camp that empowers girls in my city.  I’m now volunteering for that camp and have met all kinds of interesting women and I’m proud to help empower the next generation.
  • Signed up for GirlfriendCircles.com. My city didn’t have a lot of women participating but I actually met a couple of other childfree women and one has become a new friend.
  • Attended a MeetUp.com group for art and crafts.  Sure enough, I met more childfree women but it’s refreshing to have a different reason to connect and share.

My final thought is a favorite quote:

“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

I’d love to hear how you have found support and community on your journey.

Paulina Grace walked away from the infertility roller coaster 6 years ago. She hopes to help other women let themselves grieve and then let themselves live. Outside of running her own business, Paulina fulfills her need to nurture by being an involved aunt and caring for her aging parents. 

It Got Me Thinking…About Going Mainstream

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Girl ThinkingAll of a sudden, and maybe for the first and only time in my life, I’m feeling like a trendsetter! As proof, check out this article about celebrities—women and men—who have chosen to not have children.

Their reasons vary. Some I can relate to, others not so much. What I appreciate the most is that this choice is presented as a positive decision. The fact that an article about people who are childfree has even made it into the press—alongside reports of suspected baby bumps, ultralux showers, births, and mommy woes—confirms for me that we’ve made huge strides in the last few years.

This is good news!

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

Tree Planting for Non-Motherhood

By Paula Coston

Tree planting 22 March 14 025In Jewish culture, it’s an ancient tradition to plant a tree on the birth of a child: a cedar for a boy, a cypress for a girl. The child would then care for the tree; when she or he married, they would stand under a canopy made of its branches. There’s a Jewish text: ‘A person’s life is sustained by trees. Just as others planted for you, plant for the sake of your children.’ (Midrash Tanchuma Kedoshim 8)

I live in the UK, and in our country of Wales, over the last two years, hundreds of thousands of trees have been planted as part of a project to grow a sapling for every new baby born or adopted in the region.
But childless women like us have no upcoming generations. So my thoughts have returned recently to an inspirational woman in her late eighties. I already shared in a personal post here the wonderful gesture made by  Salumarada Thimmakka, who lives in rural India. Teased and despised in her village community as a young wife without children, despite her gruelling job in a quarry she began to plant saplings, treating them lovingly every day as her own ‘offspring’. Gradually they grew into a stately, shady avenue of 284 banyan trees, now worth millions of dollars.Meanwhile, the U.S. has a time-honoured tradition of mass tree planting, with a dedicated day, Arbor Day, for which the commonest date amongst the various states is the last Friday in April. People, young and old, take part. The day’s founder, J. Sterling Morton, declared 140 years ago, “Each generation takes the earth as trustees”, again linking this activity to the upcoming generations.

Why not, like her, plant trees for the children we never had?

Tree planting 22 March 14 022

A few weeks ago, I discovered that the council in my pretty little Cotswold town in England was funding a new tree planting scheme along the banks of our renovated canal and fringing the ridges of my local park, overlooking a lake and weir: silver birches, rowans, oaks, maples. I saw a chance, and invited a childless friend and neighbour along.

On Saturday March 22, we found ourselves under a spring sun flitting behind black clouds and threatening rainbows over the hills and valleys while we helped to dig holes, scoop moist earth round young roots, funnel weather guards over the saplings’ baby heads and drive in stakes to support them. I found myself asking the name of each plant, in some weird sense bonding with it, and even – unashamedly – talking to it as if it was a child. Kneeling beside the bed of each root ball, teasing out those little water-seeking veins, taking a moment to think about what I’d lost but what I was now giving to something living, was surprisingly moving and reviving.

Tree planting 22 March 14 037

My neighbour finds it hard to talk about her loss of children, but somehow, too busy digging to feel self-conscious, backs turned on each other, we began telling our personal stories of childlessness to each other.

On an impulse, I took out some postcards I was carrying in my backpack. For each young, vital thing I planted, I wrote a message to a child I never had and posted it into the tree’s new resting place among the soil. It didn’t cure my pain, but it felt like part of an answer.

I discovered something simple: that gardening, nurturing something other than a child, is great therapy for childlessness.

Paula Coston writes on childlessness, the older woman and singledom at her blog, http://boywoman.wordpress.com. Her novel, On the Far Side, There’s a Boy, comes out in June. It’s about an Englishwoman from the 1980s to now and her gradual discovery, through a link with a little boy in Sri Lanka, that she will never have a partner or children.

Why You Need An Emotional Emergency Response Plan

By Paulina Grace Hay

MP9003210718 years ago, a few weeks before my 30th birthday, I had my second miscarriage and a D&C.  Physically, I recovered very quickly.  Emotionally, I was in a tailspin that left me and my marriage in a pile of rubble.  It looked like there would be no survivors.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive.

There’s no handbook for moments like this and no one size fits all plan.  It reminds me of the magic trick where they pull the tablecloth out from all the place settings.  Everything rattles for a moment but quickly settles and looks untouched.  To everyone else, it looks the same.  To you, the foundation is gone in the blink of an eye.  You can barely process what has happened to you, let alone explain what’s happened to your spouse or partner, your best friend and loved ones.

I read books like Welcome to Your Crisis.  I went to therapy once and thought that was all I needed.  I shut a lot of people out.  That move cost me my best friend and almost my husband.  I was back at therapy months later even though I thought I should be stronger than to need help.  (I still struggle with that one.)  I attended a Resolve group to meet other women like me.  I tried a few infertility treatments and came to the gut wrenching but weight lifting decision to stop trying to have a child and re-embrace my life.  I was 32.

In a couple of weeks, it will be my 38th birthday.  I’m not one to dwell on numbers and usually being the youngest by far, I welcome a chance to be considered one of the “big kids”.  Yet I’d been in a deep funk recently.  I couldn’t shake it, I felt my anxiety escalating beyond my control.  I decided to make an appointment with my therapist.  I almost cancelled it.

He’s the one that said things to me like, “You have a birthday coming up.” and

“I feel like you’re not letting yourself feel some pain.”  I was practically rolling my eyes and thinking, “Are you kidding me? Am I still here after all this time?”  However, I trust this man so we went on.  (The other interesting note is this is not the therapist who helped me through my infertility crisis. I’ve learned therapists help me with perspective and can give me emotional strength when I don’t have it.  Bless the good therapists of this world.)  We’ve never discussed my miscarriage or my marriage, as those aren’t the areas I felt I needed help with right now.  I felt better when I left.  I proceeded to start a fight with my husband when I got home.

The next day I was working from home alone and my husband was out of the home office for the day.  I was doing the everyday task of cleaning the kitchen. My mind was wandering.  I remembered my nephew’s birthday was coming up and I’d had the date wrong in my mind.  It was later in the month than I realized.  Then the trigger came like a bolt of emotional lightning.  I’d had my D&C the day before his 2nd birthday and we drove to their house the next morning.  I didn’t mention it to my family.  A few weeks later everyone came to my house for my 30th birthday.  We took a full family portrait.  My one sister-in-law was already pregnant.  My other sister-in-law was newly pregnant.  I was in denial.

I started to cry.  I hate to cry.  I started to fight the tears.  Without realizing it, I started to engage my Emotional Emergency Plan.

 

Let Yourself Feel The Pain

I remembered listening to Dr. Brene Brown talk about how she processes shame.  One of the things she has to do is cry, even though she hates it, too.  I let myself sink in the corner of the kitchen and sob.  I wailed at my own pain.

 

Shame Can’t Survive Being Spoken

My first inclination was to process all of this alone, as I’d done many times before hiding in a closet or a bathroom.  It would be perfect, no one had to know.  I remembered Brene saying that shame can’t survive being spoken.  I scrolled my emotional Rolodex.  It’s uncanny how often you pick the worst person ever for support and end up feeling worse.  For me, that would be my mom.  I almost called her and thought better.  (Thank you Martha Beck for that insight. )

 

Know What You Need and Ask For It, Even If You Don’t Get It

I wanted a friend.  Not any friend.  An old friend, someone who is like a sister.  One who knew me before miscarriages and failures.  One who told me when she couldn’t take it anymore hearing awful infertility stories because it made her feel guilty.  One who had her own issues, even if she had 2 beautiful children of her own.  I sent her a detailed text (thank you again Brene for reminding me to be clear on what’s going on so they understand I need their full attention) and finished it with, “I’m having a really hard time. Can you please call me?”  I let her hear me cry and sob.  I know it broke her heart.  She wanted to fix it.  It kind of irritated me but I know she just felt helpless.  Then the best part of an old friend kicked in.  We got through it and talked about a hundred other things.  She can follow me from deep to frivolity without missing a beat.

 

Know What You Need and Ask For It, Part 2

I also wanted a friend who wouldn’t feel sorry for me, fix me or try to convince me that maybe I do want to have a baby.  I texted an online friend who has also made the choice not to have children.  Again, I told her exactly what was going on.  She cleared some time for me and said, “It sounds perfectly normal to me.”  A weight lifted.  This is normal.  It will pass.  We talked about the grief of passing the fertile years of your life.  She shared insights about leaving a sliver of hope in your heart.  Yes, so true.  We talked about other layers of life from aging parents, being entrepreneurs, friendships and life journeys.  We’re so much more than our infertility.  I told her of the good things in my life and she reminded me to keep following that trail.

 

Share With Your Partner

When my husband got home, I told him what happened.  I didn’t text him.  I told him face to face.  I let him hug me when again, I’d prefer to hide and be alone.  He has learned to just be with me and not try to fix it.

I still have more to share with him.  It might just come through letting him read this post.

That night I had dinner plans with my husband’s family and then to see a niece’s play.  She was one of many pregnancies that surprised and haunted me during that time.  At dinner someone announced a pregnancy.  On any other day, it wouldn’t have bothered me.  However, without my preparedness plan engaged, I might have completely lost it at the table.  I might have left that play heartbroken.  But I was happy and so proud of my niece.  I remembered how much I love my life.  The storm had passed.

Is that the end of the story? No, but in an emergency you do what you can to get the wounds under control and then get more help.  In an emotional emergency, calling in reinforcements is so key.  Don’t go it alone and find a way to let it out, even if it’s on a piece of paper.  Or a blog post.  I’d love to hear how you handle an emotional emergency, too.

Paulina Grace walked away from the infertility roller coaster 6 years ago. She hopes to help other women let themselves grieve and then let themselves live. Outside of running her own business, Paulina fulfills her need to nurture by being an involved aunt and caring for her aging parents. 

Our Stories: Karen

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesLike many of us, Karen* held out for Mr. Right. By the time she found him and married him, it was too late for her to realize her dream of being a mother. However…he came with two teenagers, and Karen found herself in the unusual position of being a (step)mom, but not a mom. She once shared with me that at times it seems easier to let other people assume she’s their mom, but it leaves her secretly feeling a little bit like a fraud whenever she is invited to activities such as Moms Night Out.

Now “47 and holding (lol),” Karen has a different perspective on the childfree life she leads.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Karen: Two kids—one boy, one girl—and a white picket fence.

 

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

Karen: I’m childfree by chance because I didn’t meet the right person soon enough. But I do have stepkids, which requires a lot of work (their mom is not there to help much).

 

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Karen: My stepkids are almost raised. Now I’m looking forward to travel with my hubby. And I’m looking ahead to grandkids one day.

 

LWB: What was the turning point for you? (Either when you gave up on the dream of having children or when you felt you were able to move forward with a Plan B.)

Karen: Raising stepkids. I treat them as my own. Also, I was at a group event, and I was trying to somehow fit in with the wives of my husband’s friends. All they talked about were their kids and the teachers and other kids I didn’t know. I was soooo bored and wanted to escape, or at least have a conversation about some current event or travel or anything except their boring lives! I know I probably sound like a hater, but it’s how I felt—lol! A single dad finally came over and said, “God this is boring. Where are the cocktails?” I loved him for saying that.

 

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

Karen: I feel like I missed out on one of life’s big moments.

 

LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?

Karen: “Look at the advantages.” For example, I didn’t have to go through pregnancies and births. I have more freedom to work, to be with my hubby, and to travel.

 

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

Karen: “I have stepkids, which is enough for me.”

 

LWB: What is the best advice you wish you could have given your younger self?

Karen: “Trust that you are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.

 

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

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