Kathleen sent me this photo forwarded from a friend, and I thought it would make a great Whiny Wednesday topic. So, here you go:
Our Stories: Ani
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“Since none of my sisters or my mom had troubles getting pregnant (well into their 30s),” Ani* wrote, “I had no worries about waiting until after my 30th birthday to start thinking about babies.” As many of us can imagine, she was devastated and wholly unprepared when she then suffered two miscarriages.
Today, Ani and her husband are trying to come to terms with being a family of two. That journey includes some days of feeling anxious, bitter, and depressed, and others days hoping they can make peace with their childfree life.
At the end of her story, she shares her hopes for the new year. I hope you’ll jump on the Comments to offer Ani some encouraging words and share with all of us what you’re hoping for in 2016.
LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Ani: I’ve always loved kids. I am exceptionally close to my niece and nephew (who live in the same town as me), and I adore my other three nephews. I have always just assumed I would be a mom.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Ani: Circumstance. We have been trying to conceive/not preventing since October 2013. In December 2013 we got pregnant the first time, which ended in heartbreak when I miscarried in January 2014. December 2014, almost exactly a year after our first BFP [“big fat positive” pregnancy test], we got our second. I was super-cautious about getting excited too quickly, and was proven horribly right when I suffered another miscarriage in January 2015. We’ve been checked out, and seemingly things are physically alright with me, except for being overweight. My husband has very bad sperm morphology.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Ani: I would say I am still in the depression state of mind. Pregnancies give me anxiety and make me feel so bitter toward even my greatest friends. I am fine with babies and older kids, but seeing a pregnant belly or positive pregnancy test or a sonogram picture can send me into hysterics.
I want to accept my childlessness, and my wonderful husband assures me constantly that we, as a couple, are enough. But I feel like I’ve ruined his life and chance at being a father, and I fear that he will one day resent me for not being able to carry a child for him.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Ani: People treat you as “less than” when you don’t have kids. You will also never know what being tired or sick or upset feels like, because those feelings are reserved solely for parents (*sarcasm*).
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Ani: Having our free time. We can sleep in or stay up as long or as little as we want, with nobody but our cats and dog to worry about. I also think having a child would send my anxiety into overdrive, since I would constantly worry about money and safety issues, etc., etc.
LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, teachers, strangers) to know about your being childfree?
Ani: Please don’t treat me as useless or irrelevant just because I don’t have kids.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Ani: That my husband and I will be able to fully make peace with our childfree lives and spend as much time as we can doing the things we love to do together…without worrying about the past.
*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.
Where are you on your journey? Are you wounds raw? Have you made some progress toward accepting a life without children? 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.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Learning to Ask for Help
By Lisa Manterfield
“Ancora imparo. [I am still learning.]”
― Michelangelo, at age 87 in 1562
I am still learning. And thank goodness, too. If all I had to go on for the rest of my life was all I know now, I think I’d be in a lot of trouble down the road. That’s the beauty of age, experience, and wisdom, I suppose. It takes life experience to gain knowledge, and life experience only comes with checking off the years.
A couple of years ago, I learned an important lesson that I wish I’d learned much sooner. I learned to ask for help.
Near the end of last year, I was working through where I wanted to take this site, while trying to keep my freelance writing jobs going, and thinking about the novel I’m supposed to be writing. I was trying to write blog posts, maintain the website, fix tech issues, run a workshop, and keep a marriage ticking along. Finally, I threw up my hands and said what equated to, “I can’t do this all by myself, so I’m not going to do any of it.” I really was ready to throw in the towel.
Fortunately I have a wise group of peers and an amazing mentor who talked me through my angst and convinced me to ask for help. I found an assistant to help with the blog and found a web designer to take care of the site properly. Their help freed me up to do the work I really wanted to do, which is writing posts and developing this community. What’s more, the other work got done quicker and better than if I’d struggled along as usual trying to figure it all out for myself.
The experience gave me pause and caused me to look back at my past and take a close look at myself. Turns out I have never been a person who asks for help. It’s not so much pride that stops me from asking, but more a sense of toughness. “I can do this on my own. I don’t need help.” Now I’m writing it here, it sounds an awful lot like stubbornness, but there you go.
I was also tough (or stubborn) when I was going through the grinder of infertility and later, when I was trying to figure out how to ever make peace with my situation. I never asked for help, even though I needed it. In part I believed it was pointless to ask for help because no one else could really understand what I was going through. I also didn’t want to upset people I knew and cared about, and I didn’t want to put myself in the position of comforting them.
In hindsight, I wish I’d asked for help. I wish I’d taking the chance of confiding in a friend. I wish I’d thought to look for a support group or hired the professional help of a therapist. I would have arrived at my place on peace a lot sooner than I did. But hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and I hadn’t yet learned the value of asking for help.
How about you? Have you asked for help? If so, where have you found it?
Whiny Wednesday: The Last Whine of 2015
Can you believe this is the last Wednesday of 2015? This year has just flown by. This means it’s also the last Whiny Wednesday of the year.
I’m going to open the floor for all whines today, but wanted to add one extra consideration. If you were visiting this site at this time last year, what’s changed for you? Are there things you would have whined about then that don’t affect you in the same way now? Can you see improvements in your outlook on life? Are there things you’re less tolerant of now than you were last year?
Enjoy your whining and I’ll look forward to seeing you here next year.
Happy New Year!
Looking for Potential
By Lisa Manterfield
Lily 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.”
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 Blues and a Celebration
By Lisa Manterfield
That’s me, learning to sail.
Every year it seems I get caught out with a bout of the Holiday Blues.
After a really fun and non-traditional Thanksgiving with wonderful friends, I headed into December ready to celebrate the holidays my way. Then Bam! I came down with the Holiday Blues.
There will always be things I wish were part of my festive season, like hand-delivering gifts to my family, shopping for small children, and creating the kind of Christmas I had as a child. But it wasn’t theses losses and what-ifs that gave me the blues this year.
Maybe it was the rainy weather that kept me indoors for much of the week. Maybe it was the end of year racing towards me highlighting the things that didn’t get accomplished this year. Or maybe it’s that Christmas doesn’t really feel like something to celebrate anymore.
Finally, I took my own advice, and that of a couple of friends, and dusted myself off. I bought a tree, made plans for Christmas Eve dinner at a favorite restaurant, and wrote and sent my cards. And then I made myself a cup of tea and sliced off a chunk of proper English fruitcake, and I curled up in a chair and wrote in my journal.
I made a list of everything good that happened this year—all the fun things I did (see photo, for one), the challenges I overcame, the goals I reached this year, the friends I spent time with, the family I visited.
And guess what I discovered? It’s been another great year this year. I have lived my life, perhaps not always to the fullest, but to the best that I was able. And I had a good time doing it.
That, I think, is plenty of reason to celebrate.
Our Stories: Gini
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Gini’s response to “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” made me catch my breath: “No one to utterly delight in!” Oh, how I get that. So many of my hopes and dreams about my own longed-for children could be summed up in that one statement.
At 51, Gini is, in her own words, “past child-bearing age”, yet she candidly shares that she still feels as if she’s on an irritating rollercoaster of hope. So often, as each of us rides the twists, turns, drops, and climbs of our journeys, it feels like we aren’t making progress toward healing. If you are struggling today, I hope you’ll find some solidarity—and solace—in Gini’s story.
LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Gini: I have loved babies since my nephew was born, just before I turned six. I volunteer “babysat” until I was 12, and continued my professional babysitting career through high school. I studied early childhood education in college and returned to volunteer babysitting with my husband. Since we didn’t have children of our own, but loved them so much and were “so good with them”, we were frequently asked to watch children of our friends. I wanted to have 10 babies and then adopt 13 special needs children.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Gini: We are childfree by chance. I always knew that if we were to see doctors or adopt, God would let me know. Although we did consider adoption, it was cost-prohibitive. I’m now menopausal and mentally DONE with the whole idea.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Gini: I’m on a rollercoaster! Most of the time I am absolutely thrilled with life with My God, My Love, and our two kitties. Occasionally anger and depression sneak up on me. Although I am past child-bearing age, hope still lives in my heart—and that really irritates me!
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Gini: No one to utterly delight in! No one to sing songs, play games, and dance with! No one to build things and paint and sew and create with!
LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?
Gini: Realize that your Creator delights in you. Sing, dance, play games with, build with, and create with Your Amazing Creator. You are never alone!
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Gini: After a two-year intermittent process of researching and working out what I thought would be an online business site, I named my website, “my catherine grace.” [See below.] The process has been cathartic and has stirred up a plethora of cascading emotions that led me too look for support online. I am thrilled to have found LWB.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Gini: To continue processing the plethora of cascading emotions and continue blogging as a personal journey through “eel-infested waters.”
Gini runs an online business and blogs at www.mycatherinegrace.com. This is from her May 4, 2015 post, “Baby Names”:
When My Love and I were just married, we picked out names for our children—one for a boy, one for a girl. Our girl was to be named Catherine Grace.
Catherine = pure
Grace = empowering Presence of God enabling you to be who He created you to be
My Love and I lived oversees for seven years. The people of Central Asia stole our hearts. In their language, nicknames are created by adding “my” to a child’s name.
Therefore, mycatherinegrace.com!
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.
Whiny Wednesday: Spouses Not Dealing
Happy Whiny Wednesday! I hope you’re doing okay today. If not, this is the place to get it off your chest.
This week we turn to spotlight on the men in our lives and discuss the topic of:
Spouses or partners who aren’t dealing or healing
If you have one of these, we’d like to hear to about it.
Resetting Holiday Expectations
By Lisa Manterfield
Recently a friend posted this question of Facebook:
“Are you the adult you dreamed of becoming?”
I laughed when I read it. No! Of course I’m not. The adult I dreamed of was an international engineering consultant, living in a large house with a circular driveway, with a fabulous husband and four beautiful children, including one set of twins.
Aside from the fabulous husband, that adult is almost the polar opposite of the adult I am now. I’m a writer, who works from my very small rented beach cottage, and of course, there are no children in my picture. And yet, once I stop to consider my friend’s question, I realize that I’m a lot happier as this adult than I would have been had my expectations been met. I’ve met the person I’d once dreamed of becoming; she wasn’t a very happy person and she definitely had more grey hairs than me.
Half the battle of coming-to-terms with a life without children is letting go of our expectations—and creating new ones. This is never more true than during the holiday season, one of the most difficult times of the year to be childless.
When I think of my expectations of what Christmas should be like as an adult, those four children are always there, gathered around the tree, gathered around the dinner table, and then gathered around me as the day comes to a close. Even when I realized that children wouldn’t be part of my life, I still strived to make Christmas live up to my expectations. Consequently, Christmastime was very sad time for a number of years. I knew there was no way my expectations could be met, and eventually I stopped making an effort to celebrate.
The worst year was when my husband and I found ourselves sitting at home, with no Christmas tree, no plans, no celebration, and we knew we’d allowed our lack of children to take over our lives. We also realized it was time to set new, more realistic expectations.
When I took a step back and looked at what I really wanted for Christmas, not on the surface of gifts, family, and decorations, but on a deeper emotional level, I discovered that my spiritual wish list included love, peacefulness, companionship, and a good dose of silly fun. I needed to explore new ways to get what I really wanted.
It took a couple of false starts to find a new way to celebrate Christmas, but a couple of years ago we nailed it. Mr. Fab and I rented an apartment for three days in a nearby beach town. We celebrated on Christmas Eve with a lovely dinner at an historic hotel with an enormous Christmas tree, roving carolers, and even an outdoor ice rink (in Southern California!). On Christmas Day, instead of sitting at home feeling sad about a pathetic Christmas for two, we went to the zoo, like a couple of big kids, and had a whale of a time. I even got to feed a rhino and have an ice cream. We both agreed it was the best Christmas we’ve had for a long time, plus there were no tantrums or mountains of dirty dishes to deal with.
It’s hard to let go of our expectations, especially when they’re often so deeply engrained, but if you’re struggling to find your holiday cheer this year, I encourage you to look beneath the obvious losses and examine what’s really missing for you. Even if you can’t meet your tangible expectations of what the holidays should be, you might be surprised to find you can satisfy your true needs in unconventional—and unexpected—ways.
I sat down recently with Jody Day of Gateway Women to talk about how we’ve adjusted our expectations and reclaimed the holidays. You can find the interview at Gateway Women.
It Got Me Thinking…About Holiday Slights
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“Come One, Come All!” trumpets the headline.
I’m skimming the special calendar section of our local paper and find myself drawn into a description of a holiday spectacular and crafts fair, featuring actors as classic Dickens characters and carolers strolling in Victorian dress as they sing in the season. I am so there!
But then I read the small print: “Revelers (that’s me!), particularly families (uh, wait), are invited to enjoy the festivities.” It’s possible I’m being over-sensitive, but I am so sick and tired of slights like this, and it seems to strike an especially painful chord with me as we approach the holiday season. The “Family Sing-Along” at church. The “Family Pot-Luck” intended to bring coworkers closer together. The “Family Movie Night,” where multiple generations come together to enjoy a touching holiday-themed film. I love love love all of these fun activities, and will participate even though I’m not a 5-year-old, even though I am not part of a “family.” It’s sad to me, though, that my revelry is diminished by the sting of not feeling legitimately part of the event, all because of a marketing choice.
While I don’t want to get PC (politically correct) to the point of ridiculousness, I’d like to suggest to the world that there are other ways to welcome everyone without making single and/or childfree people feel…well…unwelcome. “Fun for all ages!” “Something for everyone!” The marketers for the fair had me at “Come One, Come All!” I wish they’d left it at that.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. “Mele Kalikimaka” might be her favorite Christmas carol.
