Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About the Adoption Option

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

We’ve all heard this response to our telling people we can’t have children/don’t want children/are childfree. I don’t believe these people intend to be callous and cruel, but so often, that’s how this answer feels to me.

Here’s why:

After nearly three years of working through the adoption system, my friends Elise and Chris and their daughter Emma* opened their arms to welcome baby Jane into their family. Oh, how we all celebrated! The long-awaited arrival of this precious child was the answer to so many prayers.

A few weeks later, I received the devastating news that the birth mother had also signed over parental rights to a different adoption agency. After a furious and frantic battle in court, due to what was described as a “rare loophole,” Jane was pulled from Elise’s arms and given to another family.

I wept with Elise as she poured out the details between sobs, and I failed to make sense of it, to see a silver lining or life lesson…oh, screw it, it was all just horrifying. After all the miscarriages, all the hoping and preparing and planning, my dear friends—who are good and deserving people—had their hearts broken once again in an unimaginably cruel fashion.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first ride on the heartbreak tracks of the adoption-option train. Another family I knew had to relinquish their son at the six-month mark when his birth mother changed her mind and decided to keep her baby for herself. (I didn’t begrudge her this, yet I so ached for my friends.) And yet another couple, through a private adoptions setup, paid all the living and medical expenses for the birth mother, only to learn at the end that she had scammed several families, taken all their money, then left the baby in limbo with child services.

I can also tell you stories about friends who have been successful in their adoption efforts, but none of their experiences came easily either. Multiple disappointments, years of waiting, tens of thousands of dollars. The harsh realities of adoption are rarely mentioned alongside the airbrushed photos of celebrities and their pretty babies in tabloids, and I think leaving out those details does us all a disservice.

Yes, there are children around the world who need homes, and adults longing to be parents, and I wish I could wave my magic wand and bring them all together to be loving families. But “just” adopt? Omg, people, just stop.

*Not their real names, of course.

 Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

It Got Me Thinking…About Updating My “I’ll Nevers”

I’ve been reading through some posts from the early LWB days, and this came up as one of the most-read—and one that received a flood of comments. It continues to ring true, and it continues to make me laugh and think. I’m including it below for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, and for long-time LWBers who will get a kick out of revisiting it.

What’s most interesting to me about how it makes me feel today, in 2018, is that I now focus less on the “I’ll Nevers” (both the loss of experiences and the avoidance of the annoying acts listed below) and focus more on the “I Cans.” For example, last year one of my nieces earned a spot on her high school cross-country team. Because I don’t have sporting events with my own kids filling up my Saturdays, late in the fall I was able to travel quite a distance to watch her team win the league championship. Several weeks later, my husband and I drove nine hours round-trip to watch her and her teammates win the state championship.

It was beyond thrilling to be there, and my heart overflowed with pride for this young woman who had worked so hard to achieve her win and with gratitude that I was able to be there to see her achieve it. I think of this again and again as I attend basketball games, awards ceremonies, music recitals, theatrical debuts, graduations, first communions, and other special events for my nieces, nephews, and godchildren—things I can and do enjoy but would never get to if Fate had dealt me a different hand.

So today in the Comments, I hope you’ll have fun with your “I’ll Nevers” and I hope you’ll think about at least one “I Can” you are able to enjoy because you happen to be childfree.—KGW

•   •   •

Whenever I get tired of hearing myself whine about all the things I’ll never get to experience because I’m childfree—feeling a second heartbeat within my body and beaming with pride when someone says “She’s just like you”—I find I can put an end to my self-pity party by thinking about some of the annoying things I’ll never do. This includes:

1.  I’ll never ruin another couple’s romantic dinner because I’ve let my toddler run amok in a nice restaurant.

2.  I’ll never keep an entire airplane full of stressed-out businesspeople and weary travelers awake with my screaming infant, because if I can block out her cries, surely they can make an effort.

3.  I’ll never insist that, because my child is actually the smartest/most talented/most gifted kid in the group, he should get special treatment.

4.  I’ll never have to schedule a vacation to coincide with school holidays, so I won’t be part of the masses of humanity standing in line in front of you to get into the museum/amusement park/restroom stall.

5.  I’ll never say the words, “How would you know? You’re not a mother.”

6.  I’ll never offend a stranger by asking him to hold my child while I lift up my shirt, fumble with snaps, and flash my breasts before taking the kid back for a public feeding.

7.  I’ll never saddle a colleague with extra work because I have kids.

8.  I’ll never blow off a friend because I have kids.

9.  I’ll never tell my husband to go take a cold shower because I’m worn out from taking care of his kids.

10.  And I’ll never, ever con extended family into going on a Disney cruise.

What’s on your list?

It Got Me Thinking…About How Selfish We Are (Not)

 

At a reunion event, the keynote speaker summed up his message with “…everything we do is to make the world a better place for our children and grandchildren.”

And I thought, “Huh. So that means everything I do is to make the world a better place for your children and grandchildren.”

I haven’t said this out loud yet, but I’m waiting for an opportunity, perhaps the next time some unthinking person accuses me of being selfish for not having children. I’d like to point out that I am not having children then pawning them off on already overworked teachers and daycare providers, expecting them to do all the parenting. I am not polluting our parks with used diapers or filling the air with fumes from my super-size, family-friendly SUV. I am not expecting other people to suck it up when my toddler screams in an airplane, runs amok in a nice restaurant, or rubs berry stained fingers into their new sofa.

On the contrary, I am paying taxes to support schools that educate other people’s children. I contribute to fund-raisers for parks, boys’ and girls’ clubs, and organizations that provide services for needy families. I take note of when a friend looks fried and offer a few hours of babysitting—no strings attached—so she and her husband can take a long-overdue date night. I attend basketball games and dance recitals, and I encourage children of varying degrees of talent simply because they are precious to me. I reach out to elderly members of my family and extended family, well aware that they are lonely because their own children are otherwise occupied with caring for their children. I remember birthdays and anniversaries, with gifts, cards, and calls, and I zip my lip when a mommy friend complains to me that she’s too busy to remember mine.

Selfish? I don’t think so. I think childfree women, as a class, are the most un-selfish people on the planet.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is feeling a little feisty this week. 

It Got Me Thinking…About Hosting a Lovefeast

Today is Good Friday, a holiday in many Christian-based religions that commemorates the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In my faith tradition, it was a dark day of contemplation and prayer, one that was necessary before we received the promise and glory of Easter Sunday.

I wanted to incorporate something about old or new practices and traditions into my post this morning, but wasn’t sure what would be most relevant for us all here at LWB. So I thought it best to do a little online research, and here’s some of what I discovered:

  • Although there’s a folk legend that “Good” was a derivation of “God” (something I was taught as a child), it was long ago defined as “pious, holy.”
  • In various countries and languages, what I call “Good Friday” is known as “Silent Friday” or “Great Friday” or “The Long Friday”.
  • Some countries close schools and government offices; in others, many businesses close so that employees can attend religious services.
  • Some religions observe the day with fasting; members of the Moravian Church, one of the oldest denominations of Protestants, marked the day with a “Lovefeast.”

It’s that last item that intrigued me. What is a “lovefeast”? In the 21st century, we have an understanding that a “feast” involves copious amounts of food and beverages, a large gathering of family and friends, and a celebratory air that might include music, dancing, and revelry. But there’s something about throwing in the “love” part that makes it sound (regrettably) a bit R-rated. That was not the case in the 18th century, when the Lovefeast held on Good Friday might have been as simple as servings of sweet buns and coffee, or even bread and water, with music and singing all designed to “strengthen the bonds and the spirit of harmony, goodwill, and congeniality, as well as to forgive past disputes and instead love one another.” (Read up on at the details here.)

Doesn’t the idea of that just warm your heart? It does mine, and it gets me thinking about how I might put together my own lovefeast. I imagine inviting dear friends to join me around a table for a thoughtfully prepared meal. I imagine seeing their delight as they greet each other with forgiveness and acceptance. I imagine a toast to friendships time-tested and new. I imagine feeling tears well in my eyes as I look around at the sweet souls beside and across from me and feeling so grateful for their presence in my life.

I also imagine you there. For although we are geographically all over the globe, making a sit-down dinner with all our LWB sisters impossible, when I am here with you, on these pages, I am strengthened by our spirit of harmony, goodwill, and congeniality. I release past hurts and look to the future. I feel accepted and loved.

And that feels so very, very good.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is counting her blessings today.

 

 

 

It Got Me Thinking…About How Hope Springs Eternal

Spring is springing this week, and I am filled with optimism. I’m ready for flowers to bloom, ducklings to hatch, and sunny days to warm my feet. I can’t help myself; this is how I’m wired. I am a hope-full person, one who looks for the best in people and wants the best for people.

I feel this way despite several years of experience to the contrary. We who are part of the LWB community are well aware of the dark side of hope, the promises that kept us pursuing the Plan A lives we wanted for longer, perhaps, than was healthy. We’ve seen the cold, harsh reality as good people were not gifted with good outcomes, and vice versa. We’ve seen the fallout of crushed dreams and expectations.

And yet…

And yet…

In a few weeks, a beautiful young woman from Los Angeles is going to marry a real-live prince. I don’t know Meghan Markle personally, but I’m as excited and hopeful for her as if she were a dear friend. I hope her dress is so perfect it brings me to tears. I’m eager to see her groom beam with pride and joy when he first sees her coming down the aisle to him. I desperately want them to live happily ever after.

I’ve invited a few girlfriends to join me in pajamas and plastic tiaras to watch the festivities in the wee hours of May 19th. As we watch the glamorous and notable guests arrive, maybe we’ll paint our nails pale pink, in keeping with royal tradition. We’re sure to ooh and ahh and giggle over the fashions and fascinators. I am planning to serve scones and champagne, so after the vows are exchanged, we’ll offer a toast to the newlyweds.

I wish for Ms. Markle and Prince Henry that they have a long and happy life together. If they face challenges, may they face them together. If they want children, may they have them without struggles.

Because even if I didn’t quite get my fairy tale ending, I still hope others get theirs. That’s right, I’m still optimistic, even after everything I’ve endured, and I think that’s something to celebrate.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with being childless.

It Got Me Thinking…About The Brighter Side

Last week I wrote about “The Dark Side,” so it seems only right that this week I flip the coin. Doesn’t that always seem to be the case? The good comes with the bad, the happy with the sad, the dark with the light. But frequently during the past several years I’ve caught myself thinking that I’ve had more than my share of the dark, often brought on by the not-nice-people (NNPs) who have crossed my rocky path:

  • the client who just decided not to pay me after I sacrificed my Christmas to help her with a big project
  • the “friend” who kept sharing posts about how you can’t understand “real” love until you’re a mom
  • the doctor who continued to ask (year after year) if I have children (Read the damn file!)

Recently I’ve become better about practicing a way to flip this. In the midst of the hating and wishing them ill (I’m being honest here), I stop myself, take a deep breath, release the NNP, and focus my attention the 99.9% of people who are doing good in the world, who are generous, thoughtful, helpful, and kind. Some of the recent bright lights in my life include:

  • the former work colleagues I bumped into at a restaurant who surprised me by paying for my lunch
  • the angel who fed my parking meter seconds before I would have gotten a pricey ticket
  • the longtime friend who called out of the blue just to say “Hi” then really listened when she asked how I was doing

You know who else falls into this camp? The men and women of LWB. The people who candidly share their stories of loss and healing. The commenters who support, commiserate, and encourage. The members of the forums and groups. The many quiet readers who see themselves in the stories on our pages and offer up prayers for healing and peace.

For a few moments this week, I hope you’ll think about who has lifted you up lately, who has held, helped, comforted, or sustained you. If you’re facing hard times, stop, take a deep breath, and hold one of those angels close in your heart. For, yes, there is darkness in our world, and it comes in many forms. But, oh, the joy of finding the light!

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

It Got Me Thinking…About the Dark Side

 

“I’m pregnant!” my friend gleefully announces.

And I think, Well, f*ck me six ways to Sunday, but I instead I jump up and embrace her and say, “Congratulations!!! I am so happy for you!”

Yup, another one has gone over to the Dark Side. My playmate, my buddy, my date for tea and chick-flicks will soon switch discussion topics from the last great novel she read to the merits of cloth versus disposable diapers and the challenges of getting into the “right” preschool/private school/ballet studio. While I bravely continue to pursue political movements, investing options, and the hottest new tapas restaurant this side of the Bay, she’ll be focusing on PTA politics, college funds, and how to get her kid to eat green vegetables.

Before long, the excuses for missing lunch dates (sick baby, sick kid, soccer games) will grow tiresome. She’ll kindly include me in the first few get-togethers with her new friends from the mommies group. I’ll make polite conversation when I’m invited to baby showers and first birthday parties. But eventually I’ll get lost in the mist as she gets sucked into more and more “family” events and senses how much more she has in common with the other reproducers. “Whatever happened to your friend Kathy?” they might ask. “Oh, she never had kids.” “Ohhh,” they will say knowingly. Or so I imagine. This is worse than being the last kid picked for teams. This is being told you can’t even play the game, but if you want, you can watch from the bleachers.

And I’m pissed. But mostly I’m lonely. It’s really, really hard to make new friends when you’re over the age of 40 (and don’t have kids who make making those regular interactions easier). You have to make a determined effort to get out, try new classes, start new groups, and hope to find a connection. It’s not unlike dating, and it can be really exciting, but mostly scary and discouraging. But you carry on, remembering the closeness you once shared with old friends who, over time, could read your thoughts and finish your sentences.

Within the first three years after I moved to my current home city, several of the women who I thought could become part of my new posse became first-time mothers. I didn’t know they were trying; we hadn’t known each other that long, so the topic never came up. A couple had been trying for years, and became pregnant shortly after meeting me. Lisa (our LWB Lisa) found this hilarious and suggested I offer myself out as a fertility icon: Become friends with me, and you’ll be knocked up within 3 months—guaranteed!

After the fourth announcement, I broke down and told my husband how crushed I was, how broken-hearted, how devastating this was to my developing social life. He laughed at me, pointing out how ridiculous I sounded for getting so overly dramatic and self-pitying. And he’s right. Because, really, I was happy for my friends.

But for a short while, I need to lose my perspective and my sense of humor, wallow in self-pity, mourn the loss of my friend, and spend some time on my own Dark Side. Because underneath my happiness for her, I still hurt for myself.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods recently signed up for a 6:00 am Pilates class. She’s hoping to meet other working non-moms there.

It Got Me Thinking…About Facebook Sickness

I’m convinced I’ve picked up a new form of morning sickness. The primary symptom of “Facebook Sickness” is feeling nauseated every time a “friend” posts yet another comment or photo updating her (or his wife’s) pregnancy. It’s an epidemic:

“Here’s a picture of me at week 5! Feeling blessed!” (Looking no different than you looked at week 4.5.)

“Here’s the latest ultrasound image!” (Still looks like a blob of nothing to me.)

“Today my pregnant wife is craving ice cream!” (I crave ice cream every day. Big whoop.)

“I’m kicking my mommy today. Love, Baby Girl Smith” (“I barfed up some grass and a few remnants of the missing tennis ball on the hallway carpet today. Love, Louie the dog.”)

I can’t comment with all the clever-ish comments I’m really thinking because that would be rude…and, well, I actually am happy for these people. But I am SO OVER the daily belly photos that I am tempted to post one of my own:

“Here’s a picture of my belly at 51 years, 7 months, and 5 days. Still fat.”

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is feeling cranky today, and it has nothing to do with any kind of hormonal imbalance.

It Got Me Thinking…About Nurturing Friendships

A nearby friend recently posted something on Facebook , a personal ad of sorts, which included…

Seeking friends to:

  • go on hikes
  • talk about books
  • go to the occasional chick-flick matinee
  • plan how we might help victims of the recent fires and floods
  • have conversations about how we might make the world a better place

Reading it at my desk, I wanted to raise my hand and shout, “ME! Pick me!” Except for one small problem: She’d labeled her request:

Seeking Mom Friends

I would love to do all of the activities on her list with her, and the great irony of being excluded from her search is that I—unlike her friends who are moms, who she complained were bailing on her because they are too busy with their kids—I have the time and energy to do them with her.

For about a minute I thought about replying anyway and suggesting that maybe a renewed friendship with me was worth nurturing. But then I read further down the list about how she also wants to talk about mom stuff with these friends.

You know what, she’s on her own.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childless status.

 

 

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Half-Truths

My friend Kim* is an amazing pediatric dentist. Not only is she highly skilled, but she is passionate about what she feels is her calling. I have always admired her and, quite honestly, have at times been envious as I see her in action, see how her patients L-O-V-E her, see how energized she is by her work. In fact, it doesn’t seem appropriate to call it “work” because she glows when she is in her element and even outside when she talks about it.

So I was stunned when she announced she was letting go of her practice.

“What?! Why?”

“It sucks the life out of me, it takes too much energy, and I’m exhausted,” she said.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said. But that wasn’t entirely what I was thinking. See, Kim now also has a one-year-old daughter. Her job hadn’t changed. She’d never found it life-sucking before, quite the contrary. No, it is being a parent that is sapping her energy and making her too tired to continue to enjoy her job. I was saddened to hear that she was choosing to sacrifice her first great love, and also to hear that she was misplacing the blame.

But while I was quick to judge, once I took a step back and looked at the big picture, what I felt was compassion. I realized this was perhaps her way—consciously or unconsciously—of making peace with her sacrifice in her own mind. I do the same thing when people ask me why I don’t want kids and I respond by joking that my dogs take all the parenting urges out of me. Oh, I wanted kids, but I didn’t get to have them, and rather than have a complete meltdown in public, I deliver a half-baked “excuse.” I could easily imagine myself telling one of those strangers, “I just don’t have the energy to be a parent” versus revealing the fully honest and painful reasons for my childlessness.

When I think about it from my heart, I realize Kim and I aren’t all that different. We’ve both lost something we wanted, we’ve both sacrificed big dreams, and we’ve both lied to ourselves in an effort to salve the wounds. It makes me think that if we could be more honest with ourselves, and if we could then better communicate our real feelings with each other, there would be a smaller divide between the moms and non-moms.

We’re all women, doing the best we can with the paths we’ve been given. I hope that by being aware of this, the next time I am at the receiving end of a half-truth, I will bypass judgment and instead model understanding and compassion.

*Her name and details have been changed to protect her privacy.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods, truth be told, continues to struggle with making peace with being childless.