Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Moving on from Infertility

People come and go from this site all the time. Some people observe for a long time before quietly slipping into the conversation. Some actively engage when they need help and stick around to help others. Others come for a while and slip away unannounced when they’ve got what they needed. I’m glad for all these people.

I don’t always hear the reason why someone decides to move on, and that’s okay. When someone leaves, I wish her a silent farewell and good luck.

Recently, though, one member left and gave this wonderful reason:

“I am moving on from my identity as a childless woman.”

I wanted to throw her a party. She’s not leaving because she’s no longer a childless woman; she’s leaving because she no longer wants to carry around that label and all the stigma and resentment that can come along with it. She’s moving on, I assume, to embrace her life as a woman, with all its facets.

We play many roles in our lives and carry an assortment of identities. Sometimes those identities no longer suit us and we have to let them go. And while I’m sorry to lose a reader, I truly wish her nothing but a wonderful life.

And so this feels like a good segue into something I need to do, which is to say good bye and slip into my own new identity.

Back in March, I wrote that I would be posting a last post and leaving the site up for people to find the posts they need. Then the pandemic hit and it felt like the wrong time to leave. But now it’s time for me to throw my own moving on party.

I have loved running this site for the past decade. I’m honored to have had you in my own support circle. I’m grateful that I even got to meet some of you in person over the years, or at least got to know you virtually. Now I need to step into my own identity.

I am a childless woman and I am at peace with that now. I am an author of novels with big plans for my career. I am the wife of a recently-retired man whose company I want to enjoy. I am a gardener, a cat lover, a daughter, a runner, a foodie, a reader. I am many things and these other identities need my attention.

I hope you’ll continue to find solace and belonging among the many (almost 1,700!) posts on this site. I hope you’ll seek out the books I wrote to help you work through this journey. I hope you’ll stay in touch through my other channels (see below). But most of all, I hope you’ll find your own way to peace and acceptance of this life that none of us chose. 

Until we meet again, stay safe, be well, and remember: You are not alone.

***

If you’d like to stay connected you can find me at LisaManterfield.com and on my social media: Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. I hope to meet you again there. -x-

Whiny Wednesday: Missing Out on Parenting Milestones

Graduation season is upon us and, even though this year is very different for many grads, social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling left out when friends and relatives celebrate parenting milestones.

As always, your other whines are always welcome.

Talking About the Grief of Childlessness

I’ve been writing and talking a lot about grief—here on the blog, in my fiction, in my personal life, in the novels I’m reading, and in the Life Without Baby book. Even when I got chatting to a stranger on a plane, 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 catch another flight, 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, we don’t give the topic of grief 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: 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.

Whiny Wednesday: Mother’s Day Aftermath

Mother’s Day was strange this year. Being on lockdown meant not having to navigate many of the usual landmines, but I know that probably did little to make the day easier for you. I hope you made it through the 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.

How to be Childless and Happy in 10,000 Easy Steps

There are two questions I get asked frequently: How did you come to terms with not having children, and how long did it take?

The answer is something akin to “how long is a piece of string and how many knots can you tie in it?”

If I could write down ten easy steps to making peace with being childless-not-by-choice, I’d do it, but the answer isn’t that simple. Yes, there were many things that happened along the way that helped me make some peace, but it took closer to 10,000 steps than ten.

Writing down my story was hugely cathartic, venting about the injustices on this blog helped, too. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this and that people like you were out there wanting to talk through the minefield has helped immeasurably. Drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is where that chapter of my life ends and this is where I start healing” also helped. And frankly, telling myself a big fat lie that I was better off not being a mother actually helped me to realize that in many ways I was. Setting new goals, appreciating the benefits of not having kids, and allowing myself to feel bitter and badly treated when I needed to. All these things helped.

I don’t think there’s a formula for working your way through this, and it’s definitely a journey of making forward process and dealing with inevitable setbacks.

As for how long the process takes? How long is that piece of string? It’s been three years for me and I consider myself largely at peace with my situation. I have closed the door on the idea that I will have children someday and most days I’m good with it. Everyday it gets a little better and a little easier. Some days there will be reminders of what I’ve lost and sometimes a flicker of a thought of “what if…”

The truth is, in many ways, I expect this piece of string to go on forever. The experience of infertility has changed me. It is one of the most significant and life-changing events of my life, and I don’t think the repercussions of that will ever stop reverberating. It doesn’t mean I won’t find harmony and even happiness in this new life – I already have – but I don’t expect this journey of coming-to-terms to ever fully end.

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.

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. In normal times, 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.

This year is bound to be different for many of us who are lockdown, so it’s hard to predict how it will hit us. One thing is for certain, the day won’t go without some sort of fanfare.

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 (assuming you’re allowed), 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 you pass on your daily permitted exercise. 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 family gathering, even if it’s online, 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?