Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Mari

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Mari has been through the wringer, specifically the wringer called stage II endometriosis. While it’s considered a “mild” condition, its effects on fertility can be devastating and cruel.

 As I read about Mari’s journey, I, like Mari, wondered how many other LWBers have been suffering from this. Is endometriosis part of your childless-not-by-choice story? If so, I hope you’ll share some of your experience in the Comments.

When asked “What’s the best advice you’d offer someone like you?”, Mari replied: “Follow your gut, do whatever you need to do to get answers. Explore all your options. And most of all, take care of yourself.”

Here’s how Mari took care of herself.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Mari: My dad died when I was 14, so my dreams of motherhood included having a boy and seeing my father in him. My husband has red hair, and I always imagined we would also have a little girl, with wavy red hair and freckles. We’d dress them in knit hats with animal ears and witty onesies. We would go camping, carve pumpkins, find a great sledding hill nearby…every season would have special moments.

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

Mari: By chance and circumstance. My husband and I had a lot of anxiety about parenthood, so we left it up to nature the first year. Much to my surprise, it didn’t happen. So I got in the game and tracked my basal body temperature, etc….still nothing. Meanwhile, everyone around me seemed to be getting pregnant without trying. When was it going to be our turn? What was wrong with me? Maybe this delay was just the universe telling us to go have an adventure while we can. So we took a trip to Japan, something we always talked about doing someday. I had hoped to conceive a “souvenir” while we were there. Shortly after our return, I decided it was time for fertility testing. We passed everything with flying colors except for what my doctor thought was a fibroid on my HSG [hysterosalpingogram] X-ray. I scheduled hysteroscopic surgery for removal, but it turned out to be just an air bubble on the X-ray from the contrast fluid. I felt like such a fool for getting my hopes up that this would be our fix, and for paying several thousand dollars for NOTHING. We tried IUI [intrauterine insemination] once after that, then decided to keep trying on our own since we couldn’t find anything wrong. A few times I wondered if I had endometriosis, but my OB/GYN wasn’t concerned since adhesions didn’t show up on the X-ray or in the pictures they took with the hysteroscope.

LWB: What was your turning point?

Mari: This spring I was at the outlet mall for a girls shopping trip. We went into a kids clothing store for my nieces and nephews, as we do every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around and be reminded of my broken dreams, to feel my heart sink each time I saw clothing I would pick for my own little ones. So I hung out by the door, watching glowing mothers parade in and out, feeling so many awful feelings. Then the tears came. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to move forward until I had answers. I went to see the fertility specialist again who recommended laparoscopic surgery, since endometriosis makes up about 40% of unexplained infertility cases. My OB/GYN advised against it, saying I could put that money toward IVF. But I went with my gut and did it anyway, based on my history of painful periods and IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) symptoms. And I was right: Surgery revealed stage II endometriosis, with adhesions near my bowel and appendix.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Mari: We’ve spoken with adoption agencies and have had an IVF consult, but can’t bring ourselves to commit to what would be an even more expensive and emotionally draining journey. Stage II endometriosis equals mild endometriosis, so we’re back to leaving it up to nature, even though our chances of conception are slim. I’m fed up with hope, with bullshit miracle stories about a friend of a friend who conceived a unicorn by eating a rainbow. I just want to “be” for a while. To sum it up, I would say we are taking a break until our Plan B becomes clear to us.

 

On your journey, was there a turning point moment when you listened to your body and defied an “expert’s” advice? Perhaps you pursued a test that confirmed a barrier you suspected, or perhaps it was that moment when your body announced it was DONE trying to conceive and nudged you forward into grieving and acceptance. We’d like to hear from you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

It Got My Thinking..About Celebrating My (Miraculous) Body

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Late last week I gave myself a nasty paper cut, one I didn’t fully appreciate until I tried out a fancy new salt scrub. Sweet mother of god! I’ve had spinal taps that were less painful!

I was certain I’d be nursing my grievous wound for weeks, so was pleasantly surprised when the band-aid fell off in the shower yesterday morning, revealing a perfectly healed finger. Amazing!

There was a time when I thought the only miracle my body was capable of, was worthy of, was creating, carrying, birthing, and nurturing a child. Now that that ship has sailed, I’ve become more aware of the miracles it performs every day. It swims, it runs, it carries 60 lb. dogs and bags of groceries up stairs. It breathes, it whistles, it sings! It turns brown in the sun, it blushes at the slightest flirtation, it gets splotchy when it cries, whether in sorrow or joy.

Many of us have felt that our bodies have betrayed us, and we’ve beaten ourselves up for what our bodies couldn’t or wouldn’t do. With my eye on the goals of full acceptance and healing from this childless-not-by-choice journey, today I choose to celebrate, with gentleness and gratitude, this miracle that is my body. It’s the least I can do after all it’s done for me.

 

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

It Got Me Thinking…About Going For It

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I was 43, I trained for and completed my first triathlon. A good friend earned her black belt at 47. A gal I know picked up a paintbrush for the first time after retiring from a decades-long career and became a successful landscape artist in her 70s. Another brave friend and her classmates, representing several decades, showed a gathering of a few hundred guests how real women (with curves) dance traditional hula.

I think our youth-obsessed society is under the misconception that courage is the domain of people under 30. They party, they experiment, they go on reality TV shows. But I disagree. I think real daring rears its beautiful head around the age of 39. I see it in so many of my friends, as they finally pursue long-held dreams or take new risks, whether it be diving out of a plane or going back to school and changing careers. I think it’s a combination of finally letting go of caring what other people think about us, along with renewed desire to try new things and a dash of fatalism—life is too short, let’s do this now!

I also believe we childfree women have a huge advantage. We don’t have to worry about what will happen to the kids if we end up in a cast and pretty much useless for 6 weeks. We don’t worry about embarrassing our teenagers. We have time on our hands and money not earmarked for someone else’s college education.

If you’re looking for inspiration, read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love or Julia Child’s My Life in France, both memoirs of childfree women who took big chances and dramatically reinvented their lives while their peers were shopping for strollers. Or watch Under the Tuscan Sun, Julie & Julia (based in part on Child’s book), or Last Holiday starring Queen Latifah for more stories about childfree women who dedicate their free time and passion to creating beautiful homes, beautiful foods, and beautiful lives.

Get creative, follow your bliss, explore what makes you curious, discover the blessings of a childfree life. This week, I have three words for you: Go For It!

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree life. Recently she’s been keeping her eyes and heart open to new experiences that might lead to a fulfilling Plan B. For starters, she’s learning how to run longer distances (and actually enjoy it) and grow edible plants (that actually taste good).

It Got Me Thinking…About “The Wall”

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I love my gynecologist. She’s smart, she’s about my age, and like me, she’s childfree. So, yes, I believe she “gets” me.

That’s why it continues to gall me that her office still doesn’t “get” how devastating each of my visits are. I make a point of not making eye contact with anyone else in the waiting room. I don’t want to know—I don’t want the possibility of sensing—that the woman sitting across the room from me is in the full bloom of pregnancy. I also don’t want to know if the woman four seats over is falling apart because she’s about to get confirmation that another round of fertility treatments has failed to produce a longed-for baby. Honestly, I have enough on my plate just keeping my own emotions in check as I telepathically beg the nurse to call my name next.

And I’m pretty successful until I walk past the gatekeeper and enter the hallway where I’m once again faced with The Wall.

Technically, it’s one long wall with three bulletin boards overloaded with healthy baby and family photos. Hello, knife to the heart! There’s no avoiding it. It’s literally IN MY FACE as I make my way to the scale, then to the ladies’ room, then back into the hallway and to the exam room. I get one last look as I head out, and I typically manage to hold myself together as I ride down the elevator (sunglasses on, just in case), exit the building into the glaring sunlight, and all but crawl into my car where I let it all go.

Failure. Loser. Incomplete Woman. Freak of Nature. These are all the labels I give myself as I process my annual confrontation with The Wall.

With this being National Infertility Awareness Week, I wish my doctor and her staff could be more, well, aware. For the sign on their office does not read “Health Care for Mommies Only” or “Doctor of Pregnant and Breastfeeding Women”. It’s supposed to be an office that provides health care for all women. Although my reproductive system may have exceeded its best if used by date, I am still going in for my routine physical checkups, I continue to be a paying customer, and (dangit) I’d like to be represented on The Wall.

So, here are my suggestions:

  • In the waiting room, post images of a variety of women, such as prints of famous works of art from different eras. Maybe one is a classic Mary Cassatt mother and child painting (By the way, did you know Cassatt was childfree?), then choose from the abundance of works by Botticelli, Michelangelo, Berthe Morisot, or Annie Leibovitz.
  • Or go abstract and hang a bunch of prints by Georgia O’Keeffe, you know, those floral images that subtly represent healthy female reproductive organs.
  • On The Wall, post photos of healthy women, all women. You don’t need to take out the babies and families—they have their place here too—but add to the mix your other patients, the single women, the lesbian women, the families of two, and the post-menopausal women who are still kicking, who tell their whole life stories in the lines on their faces.

I hope that I’ll see some changes on The Wall when I go in for my next checkup. But honestly, I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to look.

 

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

 

Trusting the Path When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen

By Lisa Manterfield
Do ever feel as if you’re in a constant battle with yourself? So often I make a decision and forge ahead on the path of my choice, only to catch myself looking longingly at another paths and wondering if I ought to have taken them instead. As soon as I make a decision I lose sight of all the things I’ll gain from choosing that path and can only see all that I’ll be losing from walking away from the other paths.

I certainly did that when I chose the “life without children” path.  I knew what I would gain by opting to stop treatments and I knew what I would gain by walking away from the adoption route we were on. I knew that my sanity and my marriage would benefit from that decision, and that I’d claim back the life that was passing me by. But I could also see clearly everything I would lose from walking away from the possibility of motherhood.

I know I made the right choice, and I’m glad I kept walking on my chosen path, but it doesn’t stop me looking back once in a while to see where I might have been.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend who was making some difficult life decisions. She talked about the idea of trusting that the path you’re on will take you where you’re supposed to be.

At first glance, this reeks of “everything happens for a reason,” a philosophy that makes me bristle. Personally, I do not believe that I was denied children so that I could take a bigger, more important path instead, or that I wasn’t granted motherhood because it was more than I could handle.  I have an untreatable medical condition; I cannot reproduce; end of story; $#it happens.

And yet I’m intrigued by the idea of trusting the path.

There is no doubt that not having children will take me on a very different path than motherhood; it already has. But what if I stopped fighting that? What if I stopped looking over my shoulder at all that I’ve lost and trusted that the path I’m on will take me where I’m supposed to go? Granted, I might not have much to blog about with my new peaceful self, but perhaps I could just enjoy the journey and see where it takes me.

What do you think about the idea of trusting the path?

Our Stories: Nora

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Nora endured devastating abuse from her parents and from a former husband. With such dysfunction in her world, becoming a mother wasn’t something she dreamed about. Then she discovered she was pregnant. “I wanted to keep the baby very much,” she says, “but the situation was too dire.” So she made the heartbreaking decision to end the pregnancy.

With the help of therapy and work in creative fields, she has survived her youth and has healed herself “to the point of being able to live in a loving relationship” with a wonderful fiancé. “I can finally do something productive with my life,” she writes, yet at the same time, feelings of doubt and failure pop up as she wrestles with the results of her choices (oh, how I hate that word).

I hope you’ll offer her words of compassion and encouragement in the Comments, especially if you can relate to her story and have escaped an abusive situation yourself.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Nora: I honestly never pictured myself as a mother. The whole idea felt too foreign to me, as I came from a religious family that was profoundly dysfunctional and had no internalized positive image of motherhood. I came to terms with the reality of being an orphan after I disowned my abusive parents and cut contact with my younger siblings who were my only other relatives. I started therapy as early as I could, driven also by the fear that if I didn’t arrive at a point of healing soon enough, I might be too old to create a loving family of my own when that day finally arrived. I have found this to be common among victims of child abuse.

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

Nora: Circumstance. I believe if I had had a semi-functional family background, I would have made better relationship choices in my 20s and I´d feel encouraged to plan for a family with my fiancé now.

I had an abortion at 27 when I unfortunately became the victim of a serial fraudster, a foreigner who married me and then took all my money. This man took advantage of my profound longing for family and for love. I wanted to keep the baby very much, but the situation was too dire. He was threatening me, and I was in danger of developing serious STDs, which could have affected the child, too. It all happened so fast.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Nora: Sometimes I think about that abortion, that somehow I “could have made it”, living in a shelter house, alone in a foreign country. But then I come back to my senses and realize it was the best decision. I would never want to bring a child into the mess I grew up in. The possibility of having a family is fading in front of my eyes when I realize that nothing is going to happen unless I put substantial effort into creating a suitable environment for a child—and I feel too hollow and tired to pursue it. I never really expected to become a mother, so it doesn’t surprise me. It just feels of empty and out of reach for me.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Nora: When I moved in with my fiancé, into his one bedroom apartment, it finally dawned to me that it’s never going to happen. He is a bachelor, 10 years older, and looking forward to his military pension. But I think we both find the fantasy somewhat comforting, that we “still can change our minds.”

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

Nora: Feeling like a failure, like I am not “good enough”, normal, natural, whatever. But I guess it’s cruel to measure oneself against other people’s standards. None of them has walked in my boots.

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

Nora: Somebody related the question of motherhood to a form of immortality, and said it is viable through creating children or something else of lasting value, like art.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Nora: I want to become a writer and documentarist. I find art and writing very fulfilling, but also it asks for your full being to be present. Sometimes I feel I have already given up some of that creativity by entering a close relationship, but I don’t regret that. I love my fiancé, and I can picture living a happy life together.

 

What is your Plan B? Or are your wounds so raw that you can’t even imagine a happy future? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

Why You Need to Fix Your Self-Talk

orange tulips in sunshine

By Lisa Manterfield

I’ve been spending more time than usual alone lately and it’s not good for my head. I’m beginning to talk to myself and some of those conversations aren’t good.

When I’m busy working, my brain and I get along just fine, but in the evenings, when I’m padding around the kitchen making dinner, doing dishes, or folding laundry, the conversations start.

You know the ones I mean. I pick up an issue that’s been bothering me, something someone said that stung, or some other injustice or conflict that’s gone unresolved. Then I set about solving the problem, confronting the offender, and getting into a big fight in my head. (Please tell me I’m not the only person that does this.)

Usually I gravitate towards the worst case scenario. I end up working myself into a lather over something that hasn’t happened, and may never happen.

Finally, I have to remind myself that my body can’t tell the difference between real conflict and imagined, and so it’s busy pumping all those stress hormones out into my blood stream, which isn’t doing my health any good. That’s usually enough to stop the arguments – at least for a while.

I used to do this a lot when I was busy beating myself up over infertility, trying to figure out why it happened – or more to the point, what I had done to make it happen to me. I’d think of all the choices I’d made along the way and imagine if I’d started earlier and had children with someone who wasn’t right for me, instead of waiting so long for Mr. Fab. Does any of this sound familiar?

Once you get that negative self-talk going, it’s easy to convince yourself of all kinds of things that aren’t true. And is that really going to help the healing process? Probably not. More likely it’s just going to create more stress and give you wrinkles.

So today, as you’re going about your business, listen to what you’re telling yourself. We all have plenty of real conflict in our lives; let’s not add to it by creating more in our heads.

Here’s a good article that explains more about the science of self-talk.

Our Stories: Lisa

As told to Lisa Manterfield

Our StoriesWhen Lisa Stigliano’s identical twin sister became pregnant within a few months of trying, Lisa was genuinely happy for her, but it also made her realize her own struggles to conceive were more complex than “being a little older.” Read on to learn how Lisa found her way into a new chapter of her life and a new career.

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood:

Lisa Stigliano: I was always a goal-oriented, ambitious, hardworking person. Being raised by a single mother with little money made me want to create a better life for myself and my family.

LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance? Please explain briefly.

Lisa S: About 10 years ago, like many other newlywed couples, my husband and I purchased our first home and were excited to start our family. I was 36 years old and time was of the essence.

After about a year of trying with no positive pregnancy tests, I consulted my OB/GYN, who suggested we keep trying, as it takes longer the older we get. After another year, we saw a fertility specialist who found polyps on my uterus that could be interfering with implantation. We waited a few months after the surgery for everything to heal and begin trying again. About six months later, we opted for Intrauterine insemination, which was also unsuccessful.

And then it happened. A positive pregnancy test. Oh no, not mine. My twin sister got pregnant naturally after trying for a few months. It opened my eyes to how serious our infertility struggle really was.

At this point we decided to try IVF. I was approaching my 40th birthday, my FSH [follicle-stimulating hormone] level was high, so the fertility clinic recommended donor eggs. This is when it truly hit, and I sank into a deep depression. So you are telling me that my eggs are too old to produce a baby but my twin sister’s are not? We are identical twins with similar lifestyles—no alcohol, nonsmoker, loved to exercise, etc.

This is when I came across a Naturopath doctor on my local news segment who specialized in women’s issues, and I knew I needed to do something fast. She introduced me to holistic ways to improve my fertility. And with her help and my new holistic lifestyle, I was able to lower my FSH level to an acceptable level for IVF. I was beyond thrilled. Like I won the jackpot or something.

Little did I know how grueling the next year would be. While my sister was preparing for her bundle of joy, I was in and out of fertility clinics.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Lisa S: After four unsuccessful IVFs through two different fertility doctors, I was emotionally and physically done. I decided I couldn’t take the treatments anymore. I had become so far from the woman I used to be, always crabby, depressed, and not fun to be around.

My husband was super supportive about stopping and even suggested looking into adoption. Then my father was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension and put on oxygen therapy. About six months later, he passed at the age of 61.

I was done with everything—the baby that may or may not come, the crying, the depression—and decided to focus on what I could control.

I allowed myself to grieve the loss and come to the acceptance that it may never happen. This was not easy, but I knew it was necessary in order to move on and become the best version of myself.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Lisa S: When I was ready, I started to make new goals. I enrolled in the Institute of Integrative Nutrition to pursue my interest in holistic nutrition. I loved the ways I could support my body naturally without the need for prescription drugs. I went on to start my own company, Keeping Fit After 40, where we support women in midlife with holistic lifestyles. I recently published my first book, Let’s Celebrate Midlife, and I am active with rescuing stray and abandoned cats.

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Lisa S: Everyday I try to be the best aunt to my six-year-old nephew, who I love more than anything. And yes, I spoil him and he loves it.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Lisa S: I could never have made it through this transformation in my life had I not gone through the stages [including letting go, grieving, making peace, and moving on] that Lisa talks about in her book, Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen. It has been a long journey, but one that was so worth it. I learned a lot about myself along the way, and I want to encourage other women that there is hope for living an amazing life without children. We don’t know what will happen in our lives, but I truly believe that there is still a life for us out there, baby or not.

Lisa Stigliano is a Certified International Health Coach. Her company is Keeping Fit after 40, which helps women over 40 transition naturally to midlife. She lives in New York with her husband.

Our Stories: Gill

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesI am so moved by Gill’s story. She has always wanted her children, but her husband doesn’t. And now that they are both dealing with health issues, they’ve made the difficult choice that it’s better not to have children. When asked where she is on her journey now, Gill responded, “Hoping for a miracle whilst trying to accept the inevitable.” I so get that!

Gill is now 33 and working to make peace with her lot in life. She admits to feeling alone on this journey, so after you read her story, I hope you’ll offer her your support and encouragement in the Comments.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Gill: My husband has never lied to me about not wanting children, but I’ve always thought he would change his mind one day. Fast-forward 11 years and my husband has been diagnosed with Asperger’s and anxiety, and has a real fear about how he would cope. Whilst I am still wanting children deep down, I know that the stress of having children will probably not do our relationship, or his mental health, any good. Not only that, but there is a real chance that any child we did have would have mental health problems (my husband’s condition is genetic, so chances are our child would also have autism) or allergies (I have asthma and eczema, also genetic) too. The best thing we can do as parents in not have a child, for who would want to put their child through a lifetime of struggling to fit in?

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

Gill: I feel my situation is different to most and that all people say to me is that I am brave for giving up on this dream. This doesn’t help! I really want to know if one day I will “get over it”. Although I understand and agree with our reasons, it still doesn’t help with the fact that I want to be a mum. I hate myself for being selfish and sometimes wonder if I did have children, would I always feel guilty if they had autism? I know that there is always the chance that we would have a healthy child, but the chances are slim and my husband doesn’t want to ruin what we have already.

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

Gill: A few people I know who do not have children due to infertility have said that it does get easier with time and that you begin to appreciate all the things you can do that you wouldn’t if you had children. For example, going on lots of holidays, staying out late, or maybe even enhancing my career.

LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?

Gill: I am going to have counseling to try to come to terms with not having children. I am lucky to be an auntie, so I plan to do lots with those children.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Gill: I love this website as it is full of nice stories that make me feel less alone on my journey.

If you’ve been feeling that you’re all alone on this journey, I encourage you to read other members’ stories here. There is a lot of wisdom and support in the stories themselves and in the Comments. Then, when you’re ready, I hope you’ll 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.

 

Marking Anniversaries…The Happy and the Sad

By Lisa Manterfield

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March is a funny old month for me. It’s filled with all kinds of anniversaries, both happy and sad.

March is the month I lost my dad (sad) and, later, my stepdad (also sad).

March is also the month I married Mr. Fab (happy). We celebrate 11 years this year (very happy).

March is the month Mr. Fab’s granddaughter was born (happy and sad) and quickly became the month we decided to stop the quest for a child of our own (very, very sad).

It’s also the month I wrote my very first post on this blog (sad at the time, but very happy now).

So you can see, checking off the days on the March calendar can be a bit of an emotional ride.

What I notice, though, is that with each passing year, I’m less sad about the sad anniversaries and more happy about the happy ones. Even though “time heals all wounds” can ring hollow in a time of sadness, I’ve come to learn that it’s actually true.

Five years ago, when I wrote my first post, I couldn’t imagine that life could be happy without children. Oh sure, I knew I’d “get over it” eventually, but I never expected to move beyond the sadness.

What I’ve learned from all my sad anniversaries is that the sadness gets smaller every year, just a little at first, sometimes so little that you barely notice, until one day you can talk about the thing you’ve lost without choking on the sadness.

The sadness doesn’t completely go away, but most days it’s so small I barely notice it.

 

What’s next?

Anniversaries of all kinds are a good time to step back, reevaluate, and look back at how far we’ve come.

When I look back at some of my early posts on this blog, I see a woman who was angry and lost, but also skirting the deeper emotional truths about what she was going through. And she was still hiding in shame.

Later, I found a way to write more openly about how I felt, and eventually I was able to gain insight into the effects of my loss and how I might have better handled my grief.

These days, I’ll admit that I don’t have much new to say. I’m still learning, of course, but much I’ve what I’ve learned on my journey has been channeled into the ebook series, which I hope will continue to help other women stepping onto this path.

Those of you who’ve been long-time readers (and thank you for your support over the years) will no doubt understand how something that once consumed every waking moment can become something you think about only once in a while.

I also know that new readers are experiencing this for the first time, and I want to maintain this community, because I know it’s one of the few places to find true support and to be able to voice what our friends and family often don’t understand.

Over the coming year, I plan to rerun some of the more helpful posts from the past five years, as well as new ones as they come up. There’ll be posts from Kathleen and me, and of course, I wouldn’t dare take away Whiny Wednesday. If you’ve been a reader for a while, it’s a good way to see how far you’ve come over the years. If you’re a new reader, I hope you’ll find these posts resonate with you.

And what will I be doing with all my spare time if I’m not writing new posts? I’ll be working on the final book in the series, due out in June. I’m also working like crazy on a new novel that I hope to be able to tell you more about soon.

 

And there are presents!

As this is a celebration, of course there are presents. Several people have asked me if the ebook series will be available in format other than for e-readers. The ultimate goal is to put all four ebooks together as a print book later this year, but in the meantime, I’ve created downloadable PDFs of the books.

In honor of our five years together, you can grab yourself a free copy of the first book in the series. It will be available until the end of March, and can you get your copy by using this special link.

Get your free ebook

The other two books are also now available in this format here:

Workbook 2: Getting Through the Grief of Childlessness

Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges

Workbook 4: Thriving in a New Happily Ever After (Out June 2014. Available for pre-order)

So, all that’s left is to say thank you for your ongoing support, for showing up here and reminding me that I’m not alone, and for continuing to support and help one another on this journey. I’m very honored to share this space with you.

~Lisa