Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

You’re Not Alone: The Things People Say

During August, as I enjoy some travel time, I’m sharing some of my favorite and your favorite posts from the past year. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in September. ~Lisa 

Today’s post was originally run on 2/28/13

 

shhhBy SparklingRain

Much as I wish to be able to say that I am my own best advocate, sometimes other people’s words would fly into my ears and get lodged in the corners of my heart. There are also times, when against my logic, I would lie awake and think of each of these words, trying to figure out why exactly they hurt so much.

You see, I married the love of my life exactly two months before I turned 34, and this alone was enough for some people to judge me “too old to start having children”.  In the subsequent 5 years of our marriage, when it was clear as day that no child was on the way/on the floor/in our arms, I built a collection of bizarre comments, proof that people can be ruthless with their words.

Here are some of the comments I have collected so far:

  1. From a 53 year-old female colleague:  “Those not blessed with children simply do not have the capacity to handle such big responsibility. You just have to realize that and count your blessing.”
  2. From a 40–something brother-in-law: “So, what’s the deal here? When are you having a child? I know; you’ll wait until your hair turns white, right?”
  3. From 73 year-old mother-in-law (who already has 9 grandchildren from husband’s 4 siblings), on the day I got my PhD: “Of course she can finish school. She does not have children.”
  4. From a 33 year-old female colleague to whom I regrettably confided that we might have male factor infertility: “So have you really accepted the fact that you’ll be childless forever? Why don’t you persuade your husband to get some treatments? Oh I know, you two are too old anyway, right?”
  5. (Same person as no.1): “Having children at your age is just so risky; you’d better stay childless unless you want children with severe ailments.”
  6. From a 60-something female ob-gyn whom I saw once for a regular check-up unrelated to infertility: “Are you sure you don’t want any children? I’ve known people who, in their old age, regret not pursuing fertility treatments.”

My husband, bless him, has the clear logic not to process these kinds of comments in his brain.  I have been trying to follow his example, but I don’t always succeed.  I am a naturally happy person and I certainly don’t carry the world’s burden on my shoulders.  However, comments like the ones above sometimes creep too far into my brain and darken my world.

I know it is up to me whether or not to let others’ ruthless words to affect me.  What I didn’t know was that it might take years before I can gracefully let rude comments slide. I also suspect people will comment without thinking 99% of the time, so I will be in a dark place 99% of the time too, unless I can truly make peace with our childlessness. Which, unfortunately, is not so easy in reality.

Therefore, as for now, whenever a rude comment is thrown my way and I can handle it without punching the offender in the mouth, I allow myself to celebrate.  Celebrations have so far include buying myself new lipsticks, and um, nice clothes.

Please tell me that it in time the comments will disappear/ I will grow a nice thick protective hide/ things will be okay. Meanwhile, somebody just asked whether my marriage was still intact despite the years of childlessness; I think I ought to go and buy myself a nice new bag.

SparklingRain lives with her husband and several outdoor cats in Indonesia. She blogs at  “As Fictional As the Truth.”

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.

 

You’re Not Alone: The Things People Say

shhhBy SparklingRain

Much as I wish to be able to say that I am my own best advocate, sometimes other people’s words would fly into my ears and get lodged in the corners of my heart. There are also times, when against my logic, I would lie awake and think of each of these words, trying to figure out why exactly they hurt so much.

You see, I married the love of my life exactly two months before I turned 34, and this alone was enough for some people to judge me “too old to start having children”.  In the subsequent 5 years of our marriage, when it was clear as day that no child was on the way/on the floor/in our arms, I built a collection of bizarre comments, proof that people can be ruthless with their words.

Here are some of the comments I have collected so far:

  1. From a 53 year-old female colleague:  “Those not blessed with children simply do not have the capacity to handle such big responsibility. You just have to realize that and count your blessing.”
  2. From a 40–something brother-in-law: “So, what’s the deal here? When are you having a child? I know; you’ll wait until your hair turns white, right?”
  3. From 73 year-old mother-in-law (who already has 9 grandchildren from husband’s 4 siblings), on the day I got my PhD: “Of course she can finish school. She does not have children.”
  4. From a 33 year-old female colleague to whom I regrettably confided that we might have male factor infertility: “So have you really accepted the fact that you’ll be childless forever? Why don’t you persuade your husband to get some treatments? Oh I know, you two are too old anyway, right?”
  5. (Same person as no.1): “Having children at your age is just so risky; you’d better stay childless unless you want children with severe ailments.”
  6. From a 60-something female ob-gyn whom I saw once for a regular check-up unrelated to infertility: “Are you sure you don’t want any children? I’ve known people who, in their old age, regret not pursuing fertility treatments.”

My husband, bless him, has the clear logic not to process these kinds of comments in his brain.  I have been trying to follow his example, but I don’t always succeed.  I am a naturally happy person and I certainly don’t carry the world’s burden on my shoulders.  However, comments like the ones above sometimes creep too far into my brain and darken my world.

I know it is up to me whether or not to let others’ ruthless words to affect me.  What I didn’t know was that it might take years before I can gracefully let rude comments slide. I also suspect people will comment without thinking 99% of the time, so I will be in a dark place 99% of the time too, unless I can truly make peace with our childlessness. Which, unfortunately, is not so easy in reality.

Therefore, as for now, whenever a rude comment is thrown my way and I can handle it without punching the offender in the mouth, I allow myself to celebrate.  Celebrations have so far include buying myself new lipsticks, and um, nice clothes.

Please tell me that it in time the comments will disappear/ I will grow a nice thick protective hide/ things will be okay. Meanwhile, somebody just asked whether my marriage was still intact despite the years of childlessness; I think I ought to go and buy myself a nice new bag.

SparklingRain lives with her husband and several outdoor cats in Indonesia. She blogs at  “As Fictional As the Truth.”

 

To learn how to submit your story to “You’re Not Alone,” please visit the Writer’s Guidelines page.

You’re Not Alone: Communication

By Robin

Communication.

It’s an enormous word, or at least its impact is. What a difference communicating makes. It opens up an entire world of reality. It lets people in. This is one of the reasons some people choose not to communicate. Sometimes it’s so much easier to assume than actually go through the process of finding something out. This is something I am guilty of.

After my most recent miscarriage, I pushed my husband away.  I was in so much pain and didn’t know what to do. I had lost hope and wasn’t sure if I’d ever get it back. At one point my husband and I sat down and told each other that, with my outlook (all hope is lost) and his outlook (we can try again when we’re ready), we were wearing on one another. Neither of us could take much more of the opposite. With this said between us I stopped communicating with him. I didn’t want to cause him pain because I was in enough of it for both of us. I was also in fear that he would leave (even though he NEVER gave me a reason to think that.) It wasn’t until I realized by NOT communicating I was making things worse that I decided to try communicating how I felt and tell my husband what he could do for me while I was hurting. First I had to figure out how I felt and what I needed, but then I had to communicate it to the person I wanted and needed.

When I chose to communicate, a world of happiness followed. I realized I had assumed most things wrong. Even the few things I may have assumed correctly weren’t nearly as awful as I’d thought, and most made more sense with a little explanation. My husband told me the reasons behind why he had the outlook he had (way more positive and filled with hope than I could ever muster right after losing my baby) and that he wanted to take away my pain, “fix it”, because he loved me. He reminded me that we don’t get this time back and he wants to enjoy every moment of our life together with or without a baby in it. I realized he can see his future with or without a baby and, even though he’ll be happier with one, he’ll be ok either way. I, on the other hand, still can’t bring myself to seeing a future without one. (Note to self: I need to work on this, just in case.) I needed my husband to remind me we’re in this together, whatever “this” ends up being.

Communication has brought my husband and me closer. It brings us all closer to those we communicate with. It brought back happiness in my life and relationships. Things that used to bother me aren’t as important anymore. They aren’t worth being bothered over. I’ve never been happier I communicated my feelings and what I needed. First I had to figure those two things out which is a struggle of it’s own. BUT when you figure out what you need and how you feel, I highly recommend communicating and sharing those things with the people around you. The people you feel the safest with and know and love you. Also share with them how you need them to respond or not respond to the way you feel. Sometimes all you need is a listening ear and not a solution. Many times the people who care about you want to help you any way they can. I needed to tell my husband there wasn’t a solution to keep me from grieving. I just needed to stop running and feel these emotions right now in order to get through them. I had to let him know all I needed from him was a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Communication is a wonderful thing and I hope you, too, find happiness or peace through it.

I wish I had realized the importance of communication sooner because since I communicated with my husband, and he with me, we have felt as close to each other as we did when we were newlyweds. We haven’t felt this way for years. I know my grieving isn’t over and who knows what feelings will come when/if we try again or decide we’re through and begin our own life without baby adventure. What I do know is that if we continue to communicate openly and honestly we will be much happier and most likely see the next 10+ years together.

 

About Robin: I live in New Hampshire with my husband of 10 years and our 4 year old dog, Samuel Adams, aka Sam. We have been trying to conceive through IVF for a little over 2 years. We’ve been through 6 cycles resulting in 3 failed attempts along with 1 ectopic pregnancy and 2 miscarriages. We are currently taking a break after our last miscarriage in August 2012. We are taking things a day at a time and trying to reconnect before making a decision whether or not to try again in the New Year. If you’d like to follow my blog as I write about our journey, come check it out at www.miraclesinwaiting.com.

 

Editor’s Note: If you’d like to see your story in “You’re Not Alone,” check out our Guidelines for how to submit.

You’re Not Alone: Seeking A Meaningful Life

This is the first guest post in the new “You’re Not Alone” series of reader’ stories. If you’d like to see your story here, you’ll find details in our Writers’ Guidelines.

By SparklingRain

It took exactly two tests, and our result was clear: the possibility of having our own biological child was smaller than the chance of my being able to speak Klingon fluently.

At first I thought I had a plan: even without children I swore I would lead this “fulfilled life”.  Friends happily suggest that dear husband and I could really have fun: we could go jet-setting across the globe at will, having nobody waiting at home. “Or, or!” they would suggest excitedly, “You can always have a weekend project of..see..renovating your house? Growing a great rose garden?  You see, you have to make your life more exciting, more meaningful!”

A much older colleague chimed in: “Those not blessed with children ought to find their true purpose in life. You, I don’t see you doing any charity work. What do you do on weekends anyway?”

Unfortunately though, if meaningful life consisted of either having children or the combination of endless vacations and charity work and a beautiful house with a rose garden, then I’d be doomed. We do have decent income, but vacationing is limited to a neighboring city once a year. On weekends, I am afraid we mostly stay home or wander around in galleries or museums, and then get home and sleep or read a book.  I am startled to realize I don’t have the inclination to do volunteer work, let alone gardening.

I was so close to Googling what a “really meaningful life” looked like. Being lazy however, I simply looked around one evening as we were watching TV and glimpsed on my very own fingers, tangled with dear husband’s.  We were laughing at some local politicians being interviewed on TV, trashing their less-than-smart tired jargons. One politician remarked about how the country needed to start paying attention to the welfare of teachers nationwide, because “poor financial condition make lousy teachers”. We both teach, I am a lecturer of Electrical Engineering, he is a Visual Arts teacher, and we both strongly feel good teachers are good teachers, whether they ride a limousine or a bicycle to school.

And it hit me: I am lucky to have this man to watch bad TV shows together, to laugh at them with our fingers tangled into each others’, and to share a view important to us. (Come to think of it, we share many views, such as one should not bother whether cereal can only be eaten in the mornings and steak in the evenings.) We both have jobs we love, which we secretly think we are good at. Working with young adults and teenagers however have its own perks. They simply either listen to you or yell (well almost) at you, they will make sure you know whether you’re a good teacher or you speak mumbo-jumbo in class, never caring whether you have 0 or 14 kids. Dear husband has seen his students successfully enroll in good arts departments of universities in the country and abroad; I have seen my students grow from quivering masses of confusion to confident engineers – and I would like to claim that our lives are meaningful because of that.

For the longest time I thought I just needed to add a routine of diaper-changing or breastfeeding to my daily life and voila: meaningful life. It has been two years since I decided not to pursue fertility treatments, and I can say it’s all good.  Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s actually time for my dose of fiction books. Some people’s meaningful lives may consist of hauling children to a pediatrician or promoting world peace, and I respect them for that – if only they would respect my time to curl up on the sofa with my book.

SparklingRain lives with her husband and several outdoor cats in Indonesia. She blogs at http://tembusmatahari.blogspot.com