Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Whiny Thursday: Are You Still Talking About That?

Whiny_WednesdayMy apologies for depriving you of Whiny Wednesday yesterday. I hope to make it up to you today.

It’s now been six years since I let go of my plans and dreams of motherhood and started talking about “life without baby.” Six years later, I’m still talking about it, and I have no plans to stop talking about it any time soon.

So, this week’s Whiny Wednesday (on Thursday) is something I’m sure many of have heard in some form or another as you navigate this rocky road to healing:

Are you still talking about that?

Whine away, my friends.

And if you’d like a chance to win a copy of Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen, just add #whine to the end of your comment and I’ll enter your name into a drawing at the end of the week.

Two Wiser Women

 

IMG_0799When I asked Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos if I could make a stop at Silent Sorority on my blog tour, I should have known she wouldn’t let me get off lightly. If you’re familiar with Pamela’s work, you’ll know that she doesn’t skirt around challenging issues and she’s not afraid to write frankly about infertility and involuntary childlessness.

Pamela is a pioneer in our community, creating one of the first blogs (Coming 2 Terms, which grew into Silent Sorority) on the topic of life after infertility. Her book, Silent Sorority, was the first book I read about another woman who’d walked away from the infertility craziness. Since then she’s become a powerful voice, penning a follow up book, Finally Heard: A Silent Sorority Find Its Voice and gaining national attention for the infertility community.

As expected, Pamela asked me some thought-provoking questions about where I find myself today after surviving infertility and thriving without children. You can read our conversation in her post, Two Wiser Women.

Embracing Possibility on the Road Less Traveled

pathWhen I first began stumbling around the internet looking for other people like me, I came across loribeth and her wonderful blog, The Road Less Traveled, in which she wrote candidly about coming to terms with infertility and a life without children after the stillbirth of her daughter.

From loribeth I learned the power of writing honestly about the hard emotional aspects of this life, rather than writing around the edges, as I so often found myself doing. I realized that when I wrote on my blog, I wasn’t writing into an abyss—even though it felt that way sometimes—but for real people, dealing with so many of the same issues I was dealing with.

You’ve probably already met loribeth in the comments on this site. She’s been incredibly supportive of me and other readers. And recently, after almost six years, we’ve both stepped out from behind our blogs and had the opportunity to get to know one another in our “real lives.”

I’m honored to be loribeth’s first ever guest blogger today, writing on the topic of Embracing Possibility, something she’s been very familiar with lately as she embraces an exciting new chapter in her own life.

Please hop over to The Road Less Traveled and say hi to loribeth.

Loribeth, thank you for all your support.

 

Introducing an Incredible Community of Women

Lisa _Book1Today is Publication Day!

My new book, Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen is making its debut today and I’m so pleased to be able to share it with you. It’s chock full of everything I’ve learned on this long, sometimes rocky, path to making peace with a life without children.

Perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned since deciding to walk away from the possibility of motherhood is that none of us needs to go through this alone. Even though I once felt as if I was the only person this had ever happened to, I quickly learned that there is a generous and supportive community of women out there. And I’d like to introduce you to some of them.

Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be visiting some of my favorite bloggers around the world. I hope you’ll come with me to discover some new resources and to meet some truly remarkable women.

I’m kicking off my tour today with a trip to Australia, where I join Michelle Marie McGrath on her Unclassified Woman podcast. Michelle has put together a fantastic series of interviews with childless and childfree women from around the world. We spoke about dealing with grief, debunking myths about childlessness, and about the healing power of writing and other creative pursuits.

Michelle will also be giving away of copy of my book, so we sure to tune in for your chance.

You can listen to the podcast here.

Remembering to Honor Your Mother

By Lisa Manterfield

Mum

Mum and I on the water

Next Sunday is Mother’s Day in the UK, which, let’s face it, is about the worst day of the year to be childless. I think the UK is still catching up with the States as far as turning this quiet, “honoring of one’s mother” into an all-out Hallmark bonanza, but given the recent surge in popularity of Halloween and Black Friday sales, Mother’s Day is unlikely to escape.

As I live on the opposite side of the world from my own mother, I can usually escape the Mother’s day madness that happens here in the US. I’ve sent a card and gift and I’ll make a phone call, and my mum will be appreciative of the gesture. She doesn’t want or need any more fuss than that. But come May, I know that many of you here in the US will be facing far bigger expectations, so let’s take a breath before the madness begins and start with a little history and perspective.

The modern idea of Mother’s Day here in the U.S was started in 1905 when Anna Jarvis, a woman who wanted to honor her own mother and her contributions to Anna’s life, fought to make it an official celebration. Mother’s Day as we know it was made official in 1914, when President Woodrow Wilson designated it as a national holiday celebrating mothers. It was quickly adopted and subsequently commercialized.

Anna (who was not a mother herself, by the way) never intended the day to be a celebration of motherhood, but a way for people to honor their own mothers in their own way. She was so enraged by the twisting of the quiet commemoration she’d envisioned that she actively protested the holiday that she’d fought so hard to create. I think poor old Anna would turn in her grave if she saw what Mother’s Day has become.

Keeping some perspective on the original intention can help you get through this difficult day, especially if your own mother is still in your life. You’ll need to find a way to celebrate her that’s appropriate for your relationship and your own need for protection. Perhaps you can send her a card or flowers. If you like to take her to lunch, suggest doing it the week before or after Mother’s Day, when it won’t be so crowded and you can enjoy your time together. Use this as an opportunity, if you can, to create a more meaningful tradition with your mother. This isn’t about poo-pooing Mother’s Day and all mothers, including your own, but it is about protecting yourself and honoring your mother in a meaningful, rather than a wholly commercial and meaningless, way.

Mother’s Day is still a couple of months away here, but taking a few minutes now to think about the challenges you might face and come up with a plan will help you get through the day. So what’s your 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?

Rules to Live By

By Lisa Manterfield

I came across a copy of Whole Living magazine lately. I found the articles interesting and it’s one of the few women’s magazines I’ve found that isn’t focused on children. Refreshing.

What’s also refreshing is that, along with their Mission Statement, they also post their Ten Tenets of Whole Living. You can read them here:

These are a couple of personal favorites:

#1 Happiness is a choice. Make that choice today and every day.

I’ve spent a good chunk of the past few years feeling sorry for myself because I can’t have children. But I’ve come to appreciate the life I am able to have because of my childlessness. I’m pretty happy with this life and, if the opportunity presented itself to become a mother, I am no longer sure I would take it.

#5 Laugh at yourself. You’re funny.

Never a truer word spoken. It’s so easy to take yourself oh so seriously, but really life is pretty ridiculous. Case in point: I married a man who couldn’t have children. We spent five years trying to fix that, only to discover that I was infertile. Not funny at the time, but the irony isn’t lost on me now.

#9 It’s never too late to take the first step toward your aspirations.

When she was in her 60’s, my mum graduated with a bachelor’s degree in science and learned to drive. Anyone who tells you you’re too old to follow your dreams deserves a poke in the eye.

What are some of your tenets, rules that you choose to live by?

Whiny Wednesday: The Hardest Job in the World

Whiny_WednesdayThanks to Kath for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic. It’s a good one.

Parenting is the hardest job in the world!

 And, go!

Whiny Wednesday: Love

Anyone who knows me in the real world will tell you that, in person, I am not a gusher.  I’m an enthusiastic sort when the occasion calls for it, but I’m not one for public shows of excessive affection. If I don’t tell you “I love you,” don’t assume I don’t care; it’s not a phrase I toss around lightly and if I say it, I mean it.

Like I say, I’m not big on public affection, either physical or verbal.

So, I’m not going to tell you, dear readers, that I love you, because I’ve never even met most of you, and “love” just isn’t the right word. What I will tell you though, is how very much I appreciate you and how glad I am that you are in my life.

I have been sitting here reading the comments you’ve left on some recent posts and I am touched by your incredible generosity in sharing your hearts with me and with other readers. I am in awe of how you reach out to one another – to people you’ve never even met – and offer words of kindness and encouragement. It is the most wonderful and inspiring thing to watch, and seeing it restores my (sometimes flagging) faith in the human race.

As I said, I’m not a gusher, but today I felt the need to gush a little.

It is Whiny Wednesday, of course, and even though I don’t personally have anything to whine about today, I hope that my mellow mood won’t deter you from letting rip, should you need to. Whine on!

Our Stories: Holly

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our Stories“I need to start doing something with my life,” Holly, age 36, wrote, “otherwise it’s all just a waste of time.”

Holly is in that horrible ugly weird limbo in which she’s grieving her loss of the dream of motherhood, kinda still “hoping for a miracle a little bit”, while also trying to work through her anger and figure out a Plan B. Sound familiar? I thought so.

Read on to see how she’s doing, and consider sharing some of your journey with her in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Holly: I have never been a particularly child-orientated person, meaning I didn’t obsess over other people’s children or coo at strangers’ babies. But there did come a point in my life when I just felt ready to have my own. It felt natural and not at all scary.

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

Holly: Circumstance: I ran out of time. I have been with my partner for 17 years. He is 22 years older and has four grown-up children. At first, he said he didn’t want any more children and it didn’t matter to me because I was young and didn’t know that I wanted them myself. At the start I was so in love, I couldn’t contemplate life without him and I thought it would work out somehow. I realise now that I should have thought ahead.

More recently, though I still love him, I have considered leaving him. But I know it would take me a long time to get to a point where I can start a family with somebody else. I might even have to go through a few somebodies before I find “the one”, then I would need to wait until we’re at the right stage of our relationship before starting a family, and then how old would I be? Although there’s still some sliver of possibility, I made the decision to stop believing, stop wishing, and start accepting a life without children.

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

Holly: A lot of my friends are getting married and having children. When they break the news to me, I have to look all excited and interested. I’m not doing either of those things. A friend of mine who had been trying to convince her husband to get a cat told me she had some news. “Ooh, are you getting a cat?” I asked. “No,” she replied, “I’m having a baby!” I just replied, “But you can still have a cat, can’t you?” It’s knee-jerk reaction for me to find something jokey to say when I get that kind of news because I’m concerned that if I just say “Congratulations”, they’re going to hear the insincerity in my voice.

What I hate most is the ease with which they do it; most of them fall pregnant a few short months after getting married. It’s like they say, “What shall we do now? Have a baby? Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” Like they’re just deciding to walk through a fucking door, and they don’t seem to appreciate that some people are bricked in.

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

Holly: I always dreaded the baggage that came with having children. I am very glad to have escaped having to be friends with parents who have no personal identity and talk constantly about their children; having to go to (or host!) children’s parties; and being forced to talk to strangers and give them updates on my son/daughter.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?

Holly: Never take anything for granted. Younger woman should not take it for granted that they are going to have children and start thinking about a Plan B. Mums and dads should not take it for granted that everybody can have what they’ve got. (And try to exercise a little tact rather than parading their children around like they’re the second coming, or saying “you’ll understand when you have children”.)

Also, this pain isn’t that of wanting something that I cannot have; it’s more a loss, a grief. Years ago I imagined that my baby already existed somewhere and I was just waiting to meet him. I bought a little jumper and an elephant toy for him, things that I had seen when out buying things for my sisters’ babies and thought I would save for the future. So there were already traces of him in my life. When it became clear my boyfriend did not want children with me, I sat and held these items and talked out loud to my baby. I told him that I loved him and that it wasn’t his fault. I’ve never said any of this to anybody and I know why: it sounds ridiculous. What I mean by this is that I’m not coming to terms with not being able to have a baby, rather I feel I am having to lay my baby to rest. I would never want to compare myself to a grieving parent, as that must be the worst imaginable nightmare, but I do feel this is loss I am feeling.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Holly: I don’t have a Plan B. I’m still trying to work that one out. Right now I am not living my life like somebody who is free of children. I don’t travel, I don’t follow my hobbies or my passions. I need to start doing something with my life, otherwise it’s all just a waste, but I don’t know what that’s going to be yet.

Where are you on your journey? Are you angry? Grieving? Outlining a Plan B? All of the above? We’d love to hear from you so we can better understand our own journeys and so we can 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.

You can find more of Our Stories here.

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

Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen

By Lisa Manterfield

Lisa _Book1I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I first acknowledged that motherhood would not be part of my future. The idea started as a knot in the pit of my stomach, a fleeting thought of “What if this doesn’t happen for me?” It put out little tendrils of doubt that manifested in sadness and frustration that I couldn’t get this thing I wanted so much. But even as doctors shook their heads and test results showed over and over again that I could not conceive, the idea that I would never be a mother was unimaginable, and the possibility that it might not happen was drowned out by hope and my blind determination that, if I just kept trying, it would all work out in the end.

But it wasn’t naïve denial that kept me pursuing my dream of motherhood. It was the completely blank canvas of the unknown that lay beyond if I made the decision to give up. I had no idea what the future would hold for me, and it was easier to stay in that awful place of painful possibility than to cut my losses and step into an uncertain future. Despite being surrounded by loving friends and family, I felt completely lost and alone, carrying around with me a deep grief that had no outlet. I’d never met anyone like me before, and I didn’t know where to turn for help or even what kind of help I might need. I didn’t even realize I needed help. I just pushed along on my own, taking it one day at a time, and trying to figure out how I was ever going to make peace with the enormous loss I felt. I honestly wasn’t sure I ever would.

Book_CoverIt was a long process that didn’t come with a roadmap. There were no books to guide me through the process and no one to help me understand the sadness and confusion of losing something that I’d never had in the first place. I wrote about what I was going through, first in a journal, then as exercises in a writer’s workshop, which became chapters of a memoir. When I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood was published in 2010, I felt as if I was laying out all my shortcomings for the world to see—assuming anyone would actually read it. But a funny thing happened: As I began to write publicly, in the book and on this blog, I found you, a community of women—each with her own unique story—all struggling with the same issues and trying to find acceptance in the life you’d been dealt. For the first time, I felt as if I wasn’t stumbling through this alone.

Some you are like me and have dealt with infertility and never been pregnant, while others have suffered miscarriages or delivered stillborn babies. Some of you have dealt with health issues that forced you into a decision not to pursue motherhood, and others are dusting yourselves off after the blow of a failed adoption. Some of you have watched your dreams of motherhood dashed as the search for the right mate kept turning up the wrong man. Others have found yourselves facing divorce or the death of a spouse, or a partner who had a change of heart about parenthood. Each of you has your own story about how you came to find yourself watching the window of opportunity for motherhood slowly close—and yet we all share so many common issues. What I’ve discovered through you is that, when I wrote openly about the tangled emotions and “crazy” thoughts I’ve had, you keep responding with “Me too.”

I realize how important it is to walk this path with others who’ve been there and how sharing my story helps me to feel normal again. I’ve learned a lot from my own experience and from your comments on this site. I’ve come to understand the importance of grieving something that never existed, even if my immediate family and closest friends couldn’t fully understand my loss. I’ve learned the value of a compassionate community and the power of knowing I am not alone. I’ve also learned to look forward toward a future I hadn’t planned and to find joy and passion in my life again. I’ve learned not just how to survive, but how to thrive in a life without children.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been collecting all that I’ve learned into a book. I’ve released sections in the Life Without Baby Workbook series and now (drumroll, please!) the complete book is finally finished!

It’s called Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen, and it’s available March 7 in both print and digital formats. (You can pre-order the ebook version here if you want to be among the first to get a copy.)

So before I get too wrapped up in all that’s involved with publishing and promoting a book, I wanted to say a big thank you to all of you—for your ongoing support, for teaching so much about myself, and for taking such good care of one another. I am truly honored to be part of this community.