I hope you made it through the past weekend relatively unscathed. So, do tell:
How did Mother’s Day go for you?
How did you handle it? How did it go? What went well? What didn’t? Let us know the good, the bad, and the flat-out ugly.
Kate Kaufmann on Life as a Non-Mom
Kate Kaufmann embarked on her life as a non-mom when she abandoned fertility treatments, quit her corporate job, and moved from the suburbs to a rural community to raise sheep. Since then, she has talked intimately about the topic of childlessness with hundreds of women and men, and hopes to spark 2 million conversations to dispel stubborn stereotypes and stigmas about the childfree and childless.
I spoke to Kate about her work and about her new book, Do You Have Kids? Life When the Answer is No.
Life Without Baby: Can you tell us a bit about your journey from wanting children to where you are now?
Kate Kaufmann: In my mid-thirties I went through several years of infertility treatments and never got pregnant. I was a wreck from the drugs and monthly emotional rollercoaster, and we decided to stop treatments. I was about forty-two, my then-husband eight years older. We reconsidered our life plans and made a radical change—we quit our corporate jobs and moved to a rural area. I rarely met other women who didn’t have kids, which instigated my quest for sources of information and guidance that proved difficult to find and challenging to approach. It took quite a long time, but I gradually found women willing to talk. Those conversations lead to more comprehensive interviews that form the spine of my book, Do You Have Kids? Life When the Answer is No.
Thanks to my project, I now have a growing network of women and men with whom I can explore unique aspects of life as a non-parent—from careers, friendships, and family to aging and the legacies we leave. I now recognize and celebrate the broad-reaching value we offer our communities as a result of not having kids of our own. What’s the hardest part for you about not having children
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
KK: Over the years certain holidays, especially Mother’s Day and Christmas, have been challenging. Once I faced that reality myself and with select loved ones, it got a little better. Then the challenge was figuring out what to do about it. Traveling somewhere in December helped, especially to places where there was less hoopla surrounding holidays. Asking for acknowledgement from friends and family also helped. So has recognizing that holidays are just like other days, and I have choices about how and with whom to celebrate.
I may always wonder what the kids I’d hoped to have would be like, but now I realize it’s much more fruitful to notice and appreciate the many wonderful people of all ages who are now present in my life, those who graced my past, and those I’ll meet over the rest of my days.
LWB: How do you answer the question, “Do you have kids?
KK: I used to say, “I tried but it didn’t work,” but that either stopped conversation cold or elicited a sorrowful “aw” and what felt like a pitying pat on the arm. Now I often try to engage the other person about the topic. Sometimes I’ll say, “No. Who else do you know who doesn’t have kids? Do you ever talk about how their lives differ from yours?” If I want to change the topic immediately, I say something like, “No. Other than kids, what’s getting your time and attention these days?” Of course, since starting my book project, I relish talking about what it’s like not having kids.
Since we who aren’t parents already know the answer to the question, I think it makes sense to approach social and work situations prepared with several responses. We’re going to get the question for the rest of our lives and can take advantage of the opportunity to lead conversations in a direction that suits our current circumstances, emotional readiness, and states of mind.
LWB: How have your relationships with family and friends changed because you did not have children?
KK: I’m the eldest of 4 girls, the only one without kids, and most of my friends have historically been parents. Once I noticed the imbalance, I started to consciously seek out non-parent friends. I still love my parent friends and family members, of course, but because our interactions so often focus on their kids, I often feel like I know them better than they know me. I try to shift the conversation to other topics that matter to everyone present, but that only works when others are willing to engage. Sometimes that seems impossible.
LWB: Many of us worry about aging without children. What advice would you give?
KK: Consciously increase and deepen friendships with women and men who don’t have kids, and don’t limit yourself to people your own age. One of the greatest gifts I’ve received from writing Do You Have Kids? is the discovery that childless and childfree people of all ages have so many shared experiences, joys, and concerns. I’ve developed what I hope are lifelong connections with non-moms and dads by taking initiative to open up about this rich topic with sensitivity and respect.
I’m a big believer in pooling resources, which includes brainstorming how and where to live and who we can ask to play important roles in our futures. Parents can be blindsided when their kids can’t or don’t engage (due to geographic distance, competing priorities, or other issues). In some ways we’re at an advantage, because we know for sure our kids won’t be there to help us and can explore options and put plans in place that fit our vision for our elder years.
LWB: Your goal is to kickstart 2 million conversations about childlessness. What do you want people to know? Do you have suggestions for anyone wanting to start their own conversations, but nervous about the reactions they’ll receive?
I want people to know that those of us who don’t have kids are not better or worse than parents; our lives simply differ significantly, which can be really interesting to explore. We have a lot to offer each other when we approach the topic with open hearts, curiosity, and lack of judgment. If those elements are missing, the conversation is bound to be rocky, so go slowly and pay attention. Take care of your needs in the moment, even if that means excusing yourself from the conversation. In Do You Have Kids? I offer specific suggestions for how both parents and non-parents can broach the topic constructively and with respect.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
I’ve been entrusted with true stories about how life can unfold when kids of our own are not in the mix. Using my book as a tool to broach the topic, my mission is to address the stigmas and stereotypes people hold about us, which haven’t changed in decades. Those who wanted kids and didn’t have them most often elicit pity; those who chose not to have kids a mixture of envy and disdain. Pity, envy, disdain—none of those put us on equal footing, rather we’re often seen as lesser “others.” Truth is, there will always be people who aren’t parents, and we fill crucial roles in our culture that warrant interest, care, and respect.
Do You Have Kids? Life When the Answer is No is available from Amazon and wherever books are sold. Learn more about Kate and her work at KateKaufmann.com.
It Got Me Thinking…That You Are Not Alone
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I’ve been reading John Pavlovitz’s blog for some time now, amazed at how often he nails what I have been feeling but have been unable to fully articulate. This week’s post was no exception. He had me at the title:
For Those Who Hurt on Mother’s Day.
It’s taken me decades to get to the place of peace where I am now, and I’ve forgotten some of the lessons learned along the way. Like “Don’t look at social media in the weeks before and after Mother’s Day”. I made that mistake early this week when I oh-so-innocently logged in to check in with a couple of friends and got bombarded with “The Perfect Gifts for Moms!” and questionnaires asking for “All the Things You Love About Being a Mommy” and throwback photos of babies and toddlers alongside current photos of those same sweet humans who are now graduates and parents themselves.
You know what? This whole week f-ing hurts.
So it felt really good to be understood. To be acknowledged by a man — a dad, no less — who recognizes that this Sunday’s holiday isn’t all flowers and brunches and kisses and cuddles. To hear that at least one other person is aware of my grief and my right to grieve some more.
Pavlovitz offers a line that I often share: “You are not alone.” And today I feel it, from his words and from my being part of this amazing and supportive LWB community. (Thank you.)
He then closes with lines of encouragement that went straight to my heart. It’s what I have felt, what I would like to say to you — and he says it beautifully. I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read his post and let it touch you too.
Be gentle with yourself this weekend.
xoxoKathleen
Please note: Many of Pavlovitz’s messages are political or religious in nature and we at LWB do not necessarily share his views on all topics. Please consider this before clicking beyond the post we have shared here.
Whiny Wednesday: Don’t Pity Me
A while ago, I asked you to share topic ideas for Whiny Wednesday. Quite a few of you were glad to oblige. Thanks for the great ideas. If you’d like to suggest a topic, please leave it in the comments below.
This week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is this:
Other People’s Pity
As always, you’re free to vent on your own topic, too.
Preparing for Mother’s Day
Let’s just say it: Mother’s Day is the nuclear bomb of holidays when you don’t have children. It’s a day of brunches, church services, and flowers, when shops, offices, restaurants, and even our social media feeds are filled with celebrations of moms and all things motherhood. To top it all, this holiday has somehow escaped the political correctness cleanup that other holidays have undergone, so while many people are hesitant these days to wish someone a Merry Christmas, lest they offend, no one seems to have any qualms about wishing everyone a Happy Mother’s Day.
It took me a long time to be able to face Mother’s Day, but in more recent years I’ve done something fun for myself on that weekend. A couple of years ago I planned a trapeze class and another year I ran a half marathon at Disneyland. Each year, I’m able to note that the day bothers me less and less, and I use it to mark my own progress. I know that many of you aren’t there yet, and from past experience I know that it pays to face the day prepared.
If you plan to venture out over Mother’s Day weekend, be ready for almost everyone to wish you a happy Mother’s Day. This includes friends, neighbors, sales assistants, parking attendants, and even complete strangers. Prepare your arsenal of stock replies and be ready to respond, so you don’t find yourself caught unawares and having to explain why you’re standing in the middle of the street in tears, yelling “It’s not a happy day at all!” to an unsuspecting stranger. My standard response is to say “Thank you. You too” and move on as quickly as possible.
Once you’re aware of the inevitable challenges the day can bring, it’s good to make a plan to keep yourself protected. If you know you’re not going to be able to make it through the day with your emotions intact, stay at home or make plans to go somewhere away from the biggest challenge spots. If you’re expected to attend a big family gathering, consider if you could take a pass, just this year. Even if the next Mother’s Day is months from now, take a few minutes to jot down the challenges you might face and come up with a plan. How will you spend the day? How will you honor your own mother? And how will you deal with the challenges you can’t avoid?
To Heal, First You Have to Mourn
A while ago, I shared this beautiful interview with poet Edward Hirsch on the topic of grief. I listened to it again recently, and reread his heartbreaking poem, Gabriel. It moved me just as much as it did the first time.
You may be wondering why an interview with a poet about the death of his son has a place here, but listen carefully to what he says about loss, mourning, and the process of healing. So much of what he has to say is what I’ve also learned about healing from loss.
“There is no right way to grieve, and you have to let people grieve in the way that they can. One of the things that happens to everyone who is grief-stricken, who has lost someone, is there comes a time when everyone else just wants you to get over it, but of course you don’t get over it. You get stronger; you try and live on; you endure; you change; but you don’t get over it. You carry it with you.”
In his 78-page elegy to his son, he writes that mourning is like carrying a bag of cement up a mountain at night. There is no clear path to follow, but when you look around you, you see everyone carrying their own bags of cement.
As a poet, Hirsch used his writing, not as a way to escape grief, but as a way to express what he couldn’t otherwise say. One of the most striking points he makes is on the topic of healing and how our society talks about the need to heal. But, he says, in order to heal, you have to be able to grieve first.
Most of us have faced a lack of understanding about the loss we’ve experienced because we didn’t get to be mothers. We have no place to express that loss, and without facing it and acknowledging it, we don’t get to grieve and we don’t get to heal.
If you’re struggling with loss, have you found a way to express your grief? Even if you’re not a writer, could putting your feelings down in words help you move through your grief? I know it has helped me through mine.
Whiny Wednesday: The Baby Aisle
When you’re deep in your grief—and even when you feel like you’re finally in a good place—there’s one place that continues to be a trigger:
The Baby Aisle
Has it caught you unprepared? Did the sight of binkies, diapers, onesies, and teething toys bring on an epic meltdown?
Here’s your chance to vent.
Why I Didn’t Adopt After Infertility
Following your response this Whiny Wednesday post, I decided to add my own two cents to the adoption discussion.
When I would tell people I didn’t have children and the topic of infertility came up, they would often ask if I’d considered adoption. Can I tell you how hard it was to keep my sarcasm at bay and to not answer, “Adoption? Really? No, I’d never thought about that. I’m so glad you brought it up.”
But now I’m in a better place I can answer that question easily and in a more friendly and helpful way. I’m doing it today, not for those people who want to make sure I’ve thought of every avenue, but for those of you on this site who might be thinking of adoption and wondering why I didn’t do it.
My answer could be very complex and I could talk about how our adoption options were limited by age and finances, about how much more complicated and heart-wrenching the process was than we’d expected, and about how we didn’t have the emotional strength to risk being matched with a child who could be snatched away again in an instant. But having some distance from that time in my life, I see it more simply now.
We didn’t follow through with adoption because we hadn’t yet dealt with the loss dealt by infertility.
During our adoption training we were warned about the importance of resolving our infertility before diving into this new avenue, but at that time, I didn’t want to hear that. Now I think it was perhaps the most important piece of advice we were given. Adoption isn’t the next logical step on an infertility journey; it’s a step off that road and onto another completely different path. But the infertility journey still needs to be brought to a resolution. You still have to work through that grief.
When we ventured into adoption, we didn’t fully understand this. Perhaps if we’d taken some time to heal first, we might have been better equipped to deal with that wild emotional rollercoaster, but we didn’t, and we weren’t, and that’s the way that story went.
I know that some of you are still weighing your options and making some big decisions. My story is unique to me and my opinion is based solely on my experience, but I hope hearing it helps you.
Whiny Wednesday: “I Never Knew Love Until…”
This hot-button whine was sent in from one of our readers.
When you read an interview of some celebrity or hear someone say:
“I never knew what love was until I had a child.”
So…is she saying that because I’m childless I’m not capable or “real” love or that I will be denied the experience of the highest expression of love?
Whether this makes your blood boil or cuts you to the core, whine away, sisters!
And if you have another great whine you need to get off your chest this week, here’s the place to let it rip.
What Do You Wish You’d Known About Life Without Children?
I try not to drag regrets around with me. It doesn’t help to dwell on how things might have turned out differently when it’s too late to do anything about it. But sometimes, there are things I wish I’d known before I’d hung my heart on the idea of having children.
I wish I’d know how common fertility issues are.
I wish I’d known what questions to ask at the very start of our journey.
I wish I’d known where to find real support.
I wish I’d known how valuable that support, once I found it, would be.
I wish I’d had a wise mentor to help me see logic when my poor emotionally-addled brain couldn’t make sense of anything.
I wish we had talked more about how long we’d try, how far we’d go, and what we would do if it didn’t happen for us.
And I wish I’d known that we would be okay as a family of two.
What do you wish you’d known before the start of your journey?
