Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Looking for Potential

By Lisa Manterfield

Failed TestLily sent me a wonderful blog post that I wanted to share with you as we go into the New Year. It begins with this quote:

“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives… not looking for flaws, but for potential.”

~Ellen Goodman

I really relate to this quote because, in the past, this is exactly how I’ve approached the New Year. I’ve gone room-to-room looking for all the things wrong with me and resolving to fix them in the New Year. Come year-end, I’d look at my goals for the previous January and inevitably find that I’d fallen short, let myself down yet again. So, I’d resolve to do better the next year, to make it the year I improved myself.

I’m not sure whether it’s facing the reality of infertility that’s made me realize there are things about me that just cannot be fixed, or if I’ve just reached an age where I’ve decided to be kinder to myself. Whichever it is, I’ve adopted a new philosophy about New Year’s resolutions.

I no longer resolve to fix my flaws. I’m not going to aim to lose weight or organize my house or try to be more stylish. Nor am I going to compare myself to others—especially women with children—and find myself falling short. I am who I am and, even though I’m far from perfect, I don’t need to be fixed.

Instead I’m looking for ways to tap my potential and be the best version of me I can be. Instead of resolving to be who I’m not, I will try to nurture the best of who I am. I will set goals that point me in the direction I’d like my life to go and not worry about whether the “me” that arrives there is perfect.

As you head into the New Year, will you be making resolutions or setting goals? If so, are you being kind to yourself or are you treating yourself like something that’s broken and needs to be fixed?

Holiday Self-Preservation

By Lisa Manterfield

Woman Giving Gift, Portrait, Blurred.Imagine you have a good friend who experiences a death in the family right before the holidays. She’s dealing with funeral arrangements and in among the holiday cards that people sent before they got the news are sympathy cards and notes of condolence. She has her loved one’s belongings to go through and her mind is anywhere but on the holidays. She is mourning and there is little or no room in her grief for festivities.

You understand this and so you forgive your friend when she doesn’t send a card or a gift this year. You don’t expect her to attend the annual get-together you usually have with your group of friends. Instead, you check in on her to make sure she’s okay and you let her know that you’re there for her if she needs anything. You both know next year will be different, that she’ll be back celebrating with you, even though this will always be a difficult time of year for her.

If you’re in the earliest stages of your journey, where perhaps your latest round of IVF has failed or you’ve just come to the realization that children aren’t going to be part of your plan, you’re also grieving a great loss. The difference is, most people around you aren’t going to understand why you aren’t in the holiday spirit and they’re going to expect you to attend events, show up with gifts, and contribute to the merriment. They probably won’t make the same concessions you would make for your friend, so it’s up to you to treat yourself as kindly as you would treat her.

If this year feels too difficult for you, consider taking the year off.

Seriously, what would happen if you didn’t send out cards this year? What would happen if you mailed gift certificates instead of subjecting yourself to the mall and all its triggering festivities to shop for gifts? Do you have to decorate? Can you make excuses for parties you don’t want to attend? Could you even take a year off from whatever family obligations you might have?

It’s just one year. Will the people you love disown you? Some might be upset and yes, there’ll be that relative or friend who’ll never let you not forget, but odds are, most will forgive and forget.

We often try so hard to be there for other people, to meet their expectations and give them the holiday experience they want. But maybe this year you could give yourself what you need instead.

Holiday Support Call

invitation - pixabayYou’re invited!

You’re probably seeing these words pop into your inbox or land in your mailbox as we head towards the “festive” holiday season. Invitations to family gatherings, company parties, and get-togethers with friends can seem more like a burden than a gift when you’re facing the holidays without the children you’d hoped to have.

So, I’m inviting you to an altogether different kind of gathering this season—an invitation to spend the holidays with friends.

Please join me for the Life Without Baby Holiday Support Call on Tuesday, December 9th, at 6:00pm PDT.

We’ll gather by phone for an hour or so to discuss the issues you’re facing this holiday season, share tips and ideas for making it through, and, perhaps most important of all, spend some safe time with people who understand that this might not always be “the most wonderful time of the year.”

During the call I’ll answer your burning questions and provide a safe space to talk with one another. And if this sounds like your worst nightmare, you’re also invited to come along and just listen. Unlike other holiday gatherings, you won’t need to feel you have to mingle.

If you can’t make the call or if you don’t feel you’re ready to join in, you can also get a recording of the call to listen to on your own time.

However you’d like to participate, you can sign up for the call here. It’s free to attend. Once you’re registered, you’ll receive the private call-in information, instructions on submitting topics and questions, as well as the recording after the call.

I hope you’ll join me and not go through this difficult time of year alone.

It Got Me Thinking…About Defending My Decisions

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

IGMTWhen I was growing up in the 1970s and early ’80s, “choice” referred to being able to have a legal, doctor-performed abortion for any reason. You were “pro-choice” or you were “pro-life,” and in some areas of our world, there is still no common ground.

So I’m finding it interesting that I’m now hearing about another choice for women, specifically whether or not we choose to have children. Recently Erin Tatum wrote “5 Things You Shouldn’t Say to Women Who Don’t Want Children” for Everyday Feminism magazine. Read the full article here. I am encouraged that this topic is getting some mainstream attention, that insensitive people are being educated. That’s the good news.

The bad news is that it doesn’t hurt any less when comments like the ones she lists are lobbed our direction. “You’ll regret it when you’re older” is #1 on her list, and whether you’re childfree by choice, circumstance, chance, or a combination, that one line has the potential to pour salt into new wounds and reopen old wounds.

Take a look at the article and let me know what else would be on your list of things that should never be said to a childfree woman. And in case you don’t feel like reading to the end, I want to be sure you see what she says in closing:

It can be difficult to defend your decisions when faced with so much ignorance, but always remind yourself that your life is your own and you don’t need anyone else’s validation to justify how you live it.

Embrace childfree living and start exploring all the opportunities that await you.

Yes!

 

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

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayTonight is Bonfire Night in the U.K. As a child, it was one of my favorite nights of the year, second only to Christmas Eve.

We’d have a bonfire in the backyard, and my dad would bring home a box of fireworks to set off and a couple of packets of sparklers. We’d have baked potatoes and roast chestnuts, and my mum would make parkin and gooey, delicious bonfire toffee. It was an evening spent outdoors, clustered around the fire. It was about friends and food and a little bit of danger.

It’s one of the many things I miss about my homeland, and it’s one of the traditions I would have enjoyed sharing with my children. And that’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Traditions you won’t get to share with your children

Happy Bonfire Night and happy whining.

(Still) Learning About the Fertility Industry

By Lisa Manterfield

thinkingIf you’ve been hanging around the childless-not-by-choice community for any length of time, you’ve undoubtedly come across the wonderful Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos. Author of the groundbreaking book Silent Sorority, Pamela has long been a steady and articulate voice for our community.

More recently, she’s turned her attention and her voice to the fertility industry. After the recent announcements from both Apple and Facebook that they would include egg-freezing coverage as part of their employee benefit packages, Pamela wrote articles for two renowned publications on the realities of that procedure. You can read what she has to say in Fortune and Wired.

As always, when I hear first-hand accounts and well-researched data on fertility treatments, I find the statistics shocking, sobering, and infuriating. I think about all the people who told me to “just do IVF”, often based on nothing more than the fact that such-and-such celebrity had done it and had been successful, but with no knowledge of what the procedure actually involves, what the odds of success might be, or whether it was even a viable option for my situation (which it wasn’t).

Even the medical professionals I met during my journey offered little in-depth information about what was ahead for me. My first experience was an almost flippant referral from a primary care physician, basically “Go see this guy. He’ll get you pregnant.” And my first visit to a fertility clinic involved a calendar of procedures and a chart of costs, with no discussion about the physical or psychological effects of what I was about to go through, or honest and realistic statistics of what the chances of success really were.

I’ll admit I was naïve going in, but I don’t consider myself to be an ignorant person. I did my research, but I still wasn’t prepared. I was given glossy brochures filled with terms I didn’t understand and procedures that seemed more invasive than what I felt I needed. And they all included pictures of adorable babies and joyous parents, but never hard information—the kind I needed to make a life-changing decision. I received a stellar sales pitch, but never felt guided by a trusted professional who had my welfare and best interests at heart. Even though I’m wiser now, I continue to be educated by people like Pamela.

If you’ve been through fertility treatments, how do you feel about the process? Has your view changed? Do you feel you went in prepared? What do you think should change for women facing this in the future?

Please leave your comments below and also consider stopping by Pamela’s blog to offer support for the work she’s doing.

Talking About Grief

By Lisa Manterfield

MP900438973I’ve been writing and talking a lot about grief lately—here on the blog, in my fiction, in my personal life, in the novels I’m reading, and for the new ebook series. Even last week, when I got chatting to a stranger on a train, the conversation turned to the topic of grief.

Over paper cups of tea, this woman—who had lost her brother to suicide—and I talked about how grief stays with us long after we’re “over it”, how the shape of grief changes with time, how it can change us, and how everyone carries around their own personal grief.

My only regret in the discussion is that it didn’t begin sooner on our journey, because I would have liked to hear more about what she had to say on the subject. But eventually we parted ways, she to her office and I to airport, and I didn’t have the opportunity to ask her more about her grief.

So, I’d like to ask you instead.

  • How has your grief changed over time?
  • How has your loss changed you?
  • In what ways has your grief crept out, even when you’ve tried to keep it under wraps?

As a society, I don’t believe the topic of grief gets enough attention. We’re uncomfortable with grieving people, no matter what type of loss they’ve suffered, but it’s especially true when the loss isn’t understood.

So let’s start the conversation now. Let’s talk about this grief. I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayThis week’s suggested Whiny Wednesday topic is thought-provoking:

Fearing the quiet we will have for years

How do you feel about this? Is it something you worry about? If not, what is on your mind this week?

If I Had to Do It All Again…

By Lisa Manterfield

img_3090_#1 - Low RezMr. Fab and I don’t talk much anymore about our infertility journey. He’d as soon forget the whole ordeal and I prefer to look forward rather than dwelling on what might have been. But recently it came up in conversation.

“If I had to do it all again, I would,” he told me.

My first thought was “No way!” I wouldn’t wish that experience on my worst enemy and I don’t think I could bear to see Mr. Fab go through it again. But when I thought about it some more, I see there are positives that came out of it.

We are tougher than we were before, both individually and as a couple. We now know we can weather a major storm, and we’ll be okay when the next one comes along (and they always come along). I’m more compassionate toward others who might be in pain, now that I know what it’s like to be smiling in public and dying on the inside. I learned a lot about myself and how I handle crisis, and we’ve learned about one another. We’ve uncovered the people we really are.

So if I had to do it all again, I would. Would you?

Our Stories: LuDexMommie

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our Stories“This infertility journey nearly broke me on multiple levels,” LuDexMommie* writes. She believed she deserved to have a child, and as multiple fertility treatments failed her, she found herself in a very dark place on the “hope-despair rollercoaster”. Now 39 and soon to be divorced, LuDexMommie acknowledges that she could keep trying, she could recruit a surrogate or adopt, but “I am loathe to open myself up to more pain.” We can relate, can’t we? More of her story is below.

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood:

LuDexMommie: I didn’t dream, I assumed. I could easily picture all the wonderful moments shared between my child and me. I knew there would be challenges, but I felt I had the capacity to excel at raising a child. In fact, I was so confident that I went to lengths to develop my career and put motherhood (and what I felt to be a requisite relationship) on hold. My philosophy was that if you worked hard enough at something, you would get it. But I never considered having to work to have a baby.

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

LuDexMommie: I have premature ovarian failure and adenomyosis, and I consumed infertility technology for three years to battle against this. I have had four IUIs, two IVF procedures with two different egg donors (one was my sister!), two transfers with donor embryos, and two surgeries. Out of all that, only two chemical pregnancies resulted with a hell of a lot of heartache and grief. Circumstances got me here, but I find myself moving toward choosing a childfree life.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

LuDexMommie: Over the past few months it became clear that my marriage is an irreversible source of frustration, not support. I have always had difficulty relating to the term “DH” [Darling Husband] that I read about on blogs. My husband was quite limited in what he was able to give to the relationship, so I am choosing to move forward alone. I am hoping to connect with others without a DH.

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

LuDexMommie: I wish I could take that cold, hard scar out of my heart and put it in someone else so they could instantly understand how much it hurts. I will not see an ultrasound picture of a baby growing inside of me. I will not brush my child’s curly hair. There won’t be recognition of myself in a child’s mannerisms. I cannot hug or kiss my child, and no one will run to me for comfort. I won’t be able to teach or learn from my child. I will not experience the pride that parents have for a variety of childhood “firsts”. There will be no school supplies, sports teams, musical instruments, birthday parties, scraped knees, bedtime stories, school dances, family vacations, or driving lessons. I won’t be mother of the bride or groom. No grandchildren for me. I anticipate loneliness. I anticipate pangs of jealously. I am fully aware that parenting is not all roses, but the decision to stop trying when so many rewards are possible is very, very difficult.

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

LuDexMommie: Getting “me” back, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Opening up choices for myself. Getting out of a dysfunctional relationship and making myself ready for a healthy one. Cultivating special relationships with my nieces and nephews. Simplifying my life. Recognizing my potential as a human being. Acknowledging the difficulties that having a child in my 40s would present, and taking advantage of the freedoms that being childfree affords.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

LuDexMommie: I am surprised that I’m willing to consider being childfree; I would not have predicted that when this process began. I learned what my limits are. I learned I am a positive person at my core, but not at the expense of being practical. I learned how people not going though infertility pain could not help me in the way that I wanted them to. I became more forgiving of obliviousness. I am still trying to understand what “grief work” is. I recognize better what makes me happy, what makes me anxious, and what I am willing to do. I am kinder to myself.

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

LuDexMommie: I say, “No. Do you have dogs?”

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

LuDexMommie: Ha! I’m way past Plan B. It’s time to rediscover myself and do things that make me happy.

 

*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.