Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

The Sliding Scale of Coming-to-Terms

J and I just purchased a used trombone. In the very early stages of our relationship we discovered all sorts of odd things we had in common, one of which is that we both played the trombone as teenagers. Anyway, we’ve been talking about learning to play again, and we finally found a used instrument in good condition.

 

The main difference between a trombone and other brass instruments is that you make the notes by moving a slide up and down, rather hitting a key. It makes it a lot more difficult to hit just the right note. It’s also what makes the trombone so much fun to play, because you can slide easily from note to note, up and down and back again.

 

The reason I’m telling you all this is that today I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole coming-to-terms process. I’ve been thinking about it in terms of school grades, with the freshman class having just made the decision to live childfree or to stop fertility treatments, and having no idea how to start getting used to the idea. They eventually graduate to acceptance and begin to find a way to get happy, and ultimately go on to live a full and happy life without children.

 

But it’s really not that simple. You never really do hit all the notes precisely and in order. It’s much more like playing a trombone, where you slide from one state to the next and sometimes back again. One day, you’re content and determined to make the most of your situation, then something happens to trigger all those old emotions and you find yourself sliding back down. Then you get to talk someone who understands you and you feel like you can really figure this out…until your friend announces a pregnancy and back down you go again.

 

So, I’m wondering, where are you on the sliding scale of coming-to-terms? Where are you right now and have you been better or been worse? Do you feel that, even though you have setbacks, you’re slowly moving towards a place of peace, or can you see no way to ever come-to-terms with your lot in life? Or have you already been up and down the scale and have finally found a place of contentment? I’d like to know.

IComLeavWe February 2011

I’ll say right up front here that, while I’ve been aware of the existence of Melissa Ford and her Stirrup Queens blog for a number of years, I’ve always stayed away.

One of the hardest parts of coming to terms with being childless is the constant lure of the miracle treatment. I know I’m over it, and I understand that some precise combination of yoga, asparagus, and ground yak horn is not going to fix my dodgy ovaries, but I can never help thinking what if? For this reason, I’ve steered clear of any fertility websites that are still in the TTC mode.

Regardless, I ventured over to Stirrup Queens recently and was pleasantly surprised to find that Mel now has a whole section of blogs devoted to living childfree after infertility, and that some of my favorite blogettes have their sites listed.

So, this week is IComLeaveWe, or International Comment Leaving Week, on Stirrup Queens. There’s a full explanation here:  [link] but basically, the idea is to support this community of bloggers by posting comments of five blogs every day for the week of February 21-28 (plus replying to one comment on your own blog, if you have one.)

So, in the spirit of community, I will be lurking around the blogosphere this week, catching up on what others are doing. Here is Mel’s list of blogs that are covering the “childfree after infertility” point of view. I plan to visit these and others on my own blogroll, and bring back my favorites to share.

  1. A Fresh Start
  2. Apron Strings for Emily
  3. BarrenChemist
  4. Barren, Broken, and Beginning Again
  5. (NOT) Coming to a Uterus Near You
  6. Coming2Terms
  7. Crashing, Burning, & Getting Back Up
  8. The Fertile Soul
  9. Forever Reaching
  10. La Belette Rouge
  11. Life Without Baby
  12. Making Toy Soldiers
  13. The Miss Ruby
  14. My So-Called Life
  15. my whole is greater than the sum of my parts
  16. My Words Fly Up, My Thoughts Remain Below
  17. No Kidding in NZ
  18. Plan B: Family of Two
  19. That Girl with Endo
  20. Upon Awakening…

If your blog isn’t listed, please add it here and I’ll put it on my tour.

Life and Friendship After “The Thing”

Please take a moment and contribute your opinion to this poll.

Last Saturday, I met Pamela (Silent Sorority) for the first time. We had lunch and talked. In fact we talked for so long and so easily that I forgot to collect my husband from the airport. No long-term harm done, thankfully.

Pamela and I talked about many things, but we didn’t talk about “the thing” – our infertility – even though that was the common tie that brought us together in the first place.

What we talked about mostly was the future. What’s next? Once you’ve come to terms with a life without children (no short or easy journey, I might add) where do you go next? Once you’ve found your tribe of women who aren’t going to bring their offsring into every conversation, and aren’t going to spring a surprise pregnancy on your friendship, what do you talk about, when you don’t want to keep talking about “the thing?”

Pamela and I batted around some new ideas. She talked about her view of our meeting in a post today, and also put together a poll. Please take a moment and add your two cents.

When you don’t want to talk about “the thing” anymore, what do you want to talk about?

Advice for “30 and Childless”

I came across this question on Yahoo Answers recently: “How rare is it to be childless at 30 years old?”

In my world, it’s not rare at all. Thinking back to when I was 30, very few of my friends had children. When I was 30, I wasn’t ready to have children, never mind the fact that I hadn’t found anyone responsible enough to have them with! So, my answer to this woman is, “Don’t worry about. Just live your life!”

And yet…

When I was 30 I had no idea that my fertility was already in decline, and I hadn’t yet seen the freefall that happens on the fertility rate chart when a woman hits 35. Given my own experience with trying to conceive in my 30’s, it makes me want to offer this woman some of my hard-earned wisdom.

But what would I tell her? Don’t wait too long? If you think you might want children someday, consider freezing your eggs now? Think about your long-term goals and priorities? Find a man and hurry up?

Blach! Of course not! When I was 30 I would have rolled my eyes at this advice, too – probably did, in fact. And who am I to tell this woman that life isn’t as straight-forward as it’s cracked up to be? Who am I to tell her she needs to hurry up and take on the responsibility of being a parent?

I was happy being childless when I was 30. I was unhappy being childless from 34 to 40, and now I’m looking at 41, I’m still childless, but you know what? I’m happy again. It’s called life and you can plan it until you’re blue in the face, but sometimes it just happens how it happens, and you find your way. So I won’t offer her any advice (especially as she didn’t ask for it) and I’ll just trust she’ll find her own way.

How about you? What would you tell this woman?

Friends in High Places, Low Places, Cold Places, and Warm Places

The worst thing about moving 400 miles to the northern part of my state is leaving all my LA friends behind. Through my husband’s job, I know three people up here, plus one good friend who is an hour’s drive away, so I’m working on making new friends.

Jose was traveling last week, so I spent much of the time alone, and frankly I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

Then, on Monday, I received a copy of Lori’s new book in the mail. I read a couple of chapters and it made me laugh. On Tuesday I spoke of the phone with Lily, who was snowed under in Indiana. I’ve never met her, but we’ve become phone friends over the months.  Later in the week, I chatted by email to Monica and Sonja, and made plans to have coffee with Kathleen. I also finalized lunch plans with Pamela, something we’ve been trying to accomplish for months now.

I share one thing in common with all these women, and that is that we are childless, but beyond that I’ve discovered we have so much more in common and that these women have become my friends.

I know that many of us feel, or have felt, isolated in our childlessness, and that the web has enabled us to find our tribe. But beyond that commonality are the possibilities for friendships, and I encourage you to find those opportunities.

On the main members page, I’ve recently added a chat feature; the forums are always buzzing; and you can send messages to other members or say hello on their walls.  There are plenty of ways to make connections and hopefully to make some new friends.

Report in on friends you’ve made through this or other sites.

Going to the Silence

Pamela posted this Huffington Post article yesterday and I saw it circulating around Facebook, so I’m sure many of you have seen it.

I thought it was a very intelligent and insightful piece and I was so glad the author was talking about infertility as a disease and how it’s something that needs to be talked about and better understood.

Of course, many of the comments just served to prove the author’s point that infertility is misunderstood, that it’s about so much more than selfish reproduction of oneself, and that the mental health aspects are hugely underestimated. If you decide to read the comments, be warned that they are not kind.

I read the article and I read as many of the comments as I could bear, and then I shrank down in my chair and reached for the mouse to close the article. I was upset, but I didn’t have the strength to add to the discussion. I didn’t want to get involved. I just wanted the whole thing to go away and leave me alone.

I’ve been feeling this way all week, which is why my posts have been creeping in mid-morning, instead of at 6:00 a.m. sharp. Because this week, I’m one of those women mentioned in the article who doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to announce my infertility to the world; I don’t want to have to defend myself against people who would rather say something spiteful than engage their brains and think beyond their own little worlds for just a minute. I don’t want to speak up.

Taped to my computer screen is a quote by Amy Goodman. It says, “Go to where the silence is and say something.” It’s the mantra I use to remind myself to push the writing envelope and dare to say something that hasn’t been said before. I try to do that when I write, but it’s uncomfortable and painful, and just plain easier to not do it.

But the quote applies to my infertility too. It’s painful and uncomfortable to talk about it, and it’s so much easier to stay quiet and say nothing. But there is a silence out there and it’s damaging. As long as we stay quiet, the stigma, the misunderstanding, and the hurtful comments will prevail.

I didn’t want to, but I left a comment on the Huffington Post article and I’m reposting the article here. It’s not much, but it’s my way of going to where the silence is and speaking up until we are heard.

Go Forth and Multiply…Like Rabbits

A happy (if slightly belated) Chinese New Year to you! In this year of the rabbit, we should look forward to a placid, unhurried year, where we can expect to be carefree and happy without too many annoyances.

Unless you happen to be childfree in Singapore.

According to CNN, Singapore’s prime minister is urging citizens to follow the example of the rabbit and reproduce.

“In his annual Chinese New Year message Wednesday, Prime Minister Lee Hsien Loong noted that Singapore’s fertility rate fell to an all-time low of 1.16 percent in 2010 and urged couples to have more babies.”

As if the childless and childfree don’t have enough pressure from family, friends, and society to get onboard and reproduce, now the government is adding their two cents. As if getting out there and “having more babies” is just so simple.

I understand the socio-economic reasons behind this push, but the reality just isn’t so straightforward.

So much for the carefree and unhurried year ahead.

Expressing Motherhood Report

As I mentioned last Thursday, I went to see my friend Holly in her show Expressing Motherhood last weekend. I got myself dolled up, drove to Hollywood, circled the dodgy neighborhood until I found parking, and took a seat in the 4th row.

I decided I was going to get past my hang-ups and do this for my friend, but about ten minutes before the show, I suddenly thought, “Oh, God. What am I doing here?” The audience was about 95% women, and I’d guess from the conversations going on around me, about 95% of them were mothers. And there I sat, on my own, wondering what the hell I had been thinking. But then the lights went down and I had no choice but to sit it out.

For the next two hours 13 mothers told stories and sang songs, but here’s what was really interesting. To me, they weren’t 13 mothers, they we simply 13 women who just happened to be mothers. Granted, some of the stories, particularly the funny ones, were about the ups and downs of raising kids, but I was able to laugh just as easily as the mothers in the audience.

There were stories about relocating to a safer friendlier city, about becoming a 30-something widow, and about the funny side of living with Stage 4 Breast Cancer (and yes there really is a funny side!) One woman talked about reconnecting with the Chinese heritage that her father had eschewed in the name of Westernization, and another talked about the effects of her husband’s job loss.

I could relate to all of their stories in some way, or at least see the humor or pathos (although I’ll admit that during one particular story, the only dry eye in the house was mine, but that may have been because I’d steeled myself for the show and perhaps closed myself off a bit. Or maybe I’m just hard-hearted. Whatever.) The point is that yes, I was a lone non-mom in a sea of mothers, but we were all (or at least 95% of us) were women, and 100% of us were human beings, and we can all relate to that. Being a mom, or a non-mom, is only a part of who we are.

This particular show has closed now, but another show with a new set of performers will be coming soon, and I may even go back.

Whiny Wednesday: On Being [Childless]

I could whine about the hassle of moving, but that would be too easy. The memory of the blowout on Highway 5 is fading, the numerous cock-ups (such as packing my computer, but leaving the keyboard and mouse behind) are being resolved, and Felicity (my cat) survived the trauma and even came out from under the bedding today. But I do have something on my mind.

I’ve been thinking about being “bitter and childless.” It’s a horrible expression, but the two words so often get put together. I don’t think of myself as being bitter about my childlessness, but sometimes I hear a bitter edge in my posts here. Or more to the point, I can see how someone might interpret what I post as bitterness. That’s not what I’m about here.

By the same token, I don’t exactly celebrate my childlessness either. I’m not glad I don’t have kids; but I’m no longer sad either. Yes, sometimes when I see harassed mothers I think that I had a narrow escape, but I’m not really relieved by my escape. I’m not sad and not glad; I just am.

Maybe I should change today’s title from Whiny Wednesday to Waffle-y Wednesday, but there, that’s what’s on my mind today.

You?

Fathers Work Longer Hours Than Childless Men

According to this recent article from the Institute of Leadership and Management, fathers work longer hours than childless men. It states that:

One in three fathers work more than 48 hours a week compared to just 25% of men without children, according to a report by think-tank Demos.

The article doesn’t offer any explanation for this trend, so I’m tossing out a few theories of my own:

Maybe fathers, with numerous dependents, feel more pressure to do whatever it takes to stay employed. Maybe they have more distractions during the workday so need to work longer hours to get their jobs done. And there’s the other (perhaps cynical) theory that fathers spend more time at work so they have to spend less time at home being fathers.

I’d be very interested to hear your theories on this, too.

What I do find interesting is that I’d be willing to bet these statistics don’t apply to mothers, and that a similar study would show that it’s the childless women that put in the longer hours. If that’s the case, however, I suspect that says less about the parent/childless divide and more about the inequities of shared parenting.

What do you think?