Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Guest Post: Un Blog en français (A Blog in French)

journalingBy Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle 

Je m’appelle Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle et je suis une femme infertile de 36 ans. Je réside au Québec,  province du Canada à majorité francophone.

Depuis quelques mois, j’ai entrepris une démarche personnelle de deuil dans le but d’accepter mon infertilité.

Si vous êtes un jour confronté comme moi à l’impossibilité d’avoir des enfants de manière naturelle, vous constaterez qu’il existe à ce jour très peu de ressources littéraires et virtuelles en français. Sans compter la quasi absence de groupes de soutien.

Heureusement, quelques cliniques de fertilité québécoises offrent de l’aide psychologique afin de soutenir leur patientes et patients. Qu’en est-il ailleurs dans le monde ?

Donc, à qui peuvent s’adresser les femmes ayant décidé simplement de tirer un trait sur la maternité pour diverses raisons ( médicales ou personnelles).

Comment ces femmes peuvent-elles arriver à faire le deuil de la maternité sans être isolées? Comment peuvent –elles échanger avec d’autres femmes vivant la même situation ? Et que dire des hommes ?

Voilà pourquoi j’ai créé un blog en français pour partager avec vous les ressources, livres, sites, groupes d’entraide, interviews que j’ai pu trouver sur la toile pour m’aider dans ma démarche.

J’espère que ces ressources serviront à aider d’autres personnes désireuses d’arriver à vivre une existence satisfaisante sans enfant.

Au plaisir d’échanger avec vous!

Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle

 

My name is Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle. I’m a 36 year-old infertile woman and I live in Quebec, a province of Canada where the majority of the population speaks French.

A couple of months ago, I decided to undertake a process of grieving to accept my infertility.

If, like me, you have to face your own infertility, you will soon discover that there are very few resources (books or web sites) in French. Support groups addressing these issues are also very rare, especially away from the big cities.

Thankfully, in Quebec, a few fertility clinics offer psychological support to their patients. But what about the situation in the rest of the world?

Where can women who decide to come to terms with their absence of maternity (for medical or personal reasons) turn to?

How is it possible to accept your infertility when you feel so different and isolated form other women? How is it possible to exchange thoughts and information with other women who feel the same as you do? And what about the situation for men facing infertility?

That is why I decided to create a French blog to share the resources, the books , the web sites, the support groups, and the interviews that I have found on the net or elsewhere.

I hope that this information will help other people like me who want to learn how to live a great life without having kids.

Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle lives in the region of Montréal in Québec, Canada. She shares her stories and resources at “Être femme sans enfant.”

 

Whiny Wednesday: Facebook Vacation

Whiny_WednesdayI’ve been on a Facebook vacation since the beginning of the year. There were a number of factors that played into my decision, including the amount of mindless time I was frittering away, a sudden surge in baby news, and an alarming surge in banal twaddle from people I wasn’t interested in hearing about.

I also realized that I was walking around talking to myself in third person status updates: Lisa Manterfield is doing dishes and wondering why she moved into a house with no a dishwasher. Lisa Manterfield is in a bad mood today and wishes today was Whiny Wednesday.

I don’t know when I’ll be back from my FB vacation, but I can’t say I’m missing it at all.

As it turns out, it IS Whiny Wednesday. What do you wish you could take a vacation from this week?

It Got Me Thinking About…What I’m Worth

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

A friend took me out to dinner recently (a nice treat!) and I ordered a cobb salad with grilled chicken breast. Simple enough, but as I sliced up the chicken and took a bite, it was clear that the meat was not quite thoroughly cooked. Here’s where it gets screwy: I ate half of it anyway.

On a normal night I would have waved down our server and politely requested that the meat go back on the grill for a few more minutes till it was cooked through. But this particular night came at the tail end of a long week of self-loathing. I’d spent days focusing on business failings, financial failings, and personal failings (among them, feeling like the only childless woman among my überly-reproductive peers). I risked getting violently ill because at the time I thought to myself It’s not worth it. Which, if you haven’t already guessed, translates to I am not worth it.

I thought about this a lot in the days that followed, and after I stopped beating myself up, I remembered something someone taught me long ago. If I were a mother lioness and my baby cubs were at risk, I would be fierce about protecting them. If I’d paid good money for an expensive meal for my family, I would insist that it be served to my satisfaction. If my child was served a plate of raw meat, I would immediately return it to the kitchen. So…isn’t it time I start taking care of my inner child?

Much of my life I was groomed to be polite, not make waves, keep the peace. And there’s a place for that. But as I work through this process of grieving and healing, I think there’s also a place for standing up for myself, speaking up, being fierce on my own behalf. I can start with something as little as refusing to accept bad chicken. Because, as the classic L’Oreal campaign has tried to imprint in us, I’m worth it.

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

 

Because I Don’t Have Kids

face and hands of beautiful womanStocking up on some Christmas cheer last week, I was asked to show I.D. for my purchases. Never one to begrudge being carded, I pulled out my driver’s license and showed it to the young assistant.

She gave it a quick look, did some math, and said, “Wow, you look good for 42.”

Even as my ego puffed up faster than an inflatable Santa lawn ornament, a quip sprung to my lips.

“That’s because I don’t have kids,” I almost said.

It’s true I only have a few errant gray hairs and my worry lines are small and faint, and it’s also true that friends my age who do have kids generally have a lot more gray than me under their highlights.

So, I wonder, is it genes that have kept the gray away, or was the young woman just a bad judge of age, or could looking younger be a perk of not having kids? What do you think?

Whiny Wednesday: Rule Breakers

Whiny_WednesdayMr. Fab and I had a truly fabulous Christmas. For the first time ever, we went away, just the two of us. It was bliss, absolute bliss, and I think it’s going to become our new tradition.

On Christmas Day, we went to the zoo and treated ourselves to a behind-the-scenes tour. It really was a treat, as we got to get up close and personal with some fascinating creatures.

We almost abandoned ship, though.

When we arrived, we were mortified to find that our tour included a HUGE family of 13, including at least 8 or 9 of the most unruly, out of control kids, accompanied by a set of adults that seemed to have forgotten they had kids at all. The kids were fighting, breaking things, and completely ignoring the pretty important safety rules (such as don’t move fast in front of a cheetah as it will think you’re a juicy bit of prey and hunt you down at 70 miles per hour.)

To our dismay, when the guides split the tour group into two, our lanyards matched that of the family’s. So, we did a bit of rule breaking of our own and slipped in behind the other group. There, we followed behind a delightful family, with three lovely, well-behaved children, where we got to enjoy watching their excitement at feeding a rhino and petting a kangaroo almost as much as our own.

Pity the poor folks in the other group, though.

It’s the first Whiny Wednesday of the New Year, and I know you’ve got some leftover holiday whines. Now’s your chance to let them all out.

It Got Me Thinking….About A New Year’s Chero

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A toast to wonderful new beginnings and a world of possibilities!

As a kid growing up in Southern California, I was obsessed with the Tournament of Roses Parade that took place every New Year’s Day. My family secured seats in the bleachers one year, and my college roommates and I sat in the front row when our UCLA Bruins played in (and won) the Rose Bowl, but most years the tradition was to stay in pajamas, cuddle up in blankets, and eat breakfast in front of the TV. I loved the princesses (I’m practicing the wave right now), the horses that marched and pranced, the beautiful, flower-covered floats.

That’s why I couldn’t wait to see what the float designers would do with this year’s theme: “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” It was inspired by Dr. Seuss’ book of the same name. Dr. Seuss, the clever, imaginative, silly, and prolific creator of classics such as The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham. Did you know he and his wife were childfree? That’s right. One of the most beloved storytellers of all time has entertained millions of children, but never had one of his own. We celebrated what would have been his 108th birthday last March with one of our chero (heroes who are childfree) profiles. Read it here.

I don’t know where this year will take me. I hope there will be more ups than downs. I hope to create more joy in my life. I hope that I will become more at peace with my childfree status. I know, wherever my path leads, that it will be a grand adventure.

I hope the same for you. And as we begin this new beginning, I offer to you the opening words from Dr. Seuss’ book:

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

I wish you traveling mercies, my sisters.

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

 

It Got Me Thinking…About The Meaning of Christmas

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

For unto us a Child is born. (Isaiah 9:6)

As I heard these words in my umpteenth pre-Christmas service, my first thought was Pfft! Right. I mean, isn’t it bad enough that I have had to endure yet another holiday season being painfully aware of the lack of children in my life? And then at every turn I am reminded that we mark this holiday in celebration of a miraculous birth. Come on! This almost trumps Mother’s Day as the worst day of the year for those of us who are childfree-not-by-choice.

For reasons I still can’t completely articulate, this has been the hardest holiday season for me yet. After a boisterous Thanksgiving with a houseful of young nieces and nephews, I slipped into a depressed funk as I anticipated a painfully quiet December. I forced myself to listen to Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters (so cheery, I wanted to smack someone), I baked cookies and gave them away, I chose to hang lights and make the house festive for me, even though it seemed pointless and pathetic. Several times I considered giving in to the darkness, donating all my keepsake ornaments to Goodwill, and spending today in bed with a jug of mulled spiced wine.

Instead, in a moment of pure inspiration, I chose to get quiet and listen. I lit a candle and prayed for light. I cried out my hurts and losses to a god who has heard it all many times before and still comforts without judgment. Having released some of my grief, I took a deep breath and invited Cynical Me to take a well-earned holiday. Then I invited Holy Me to give me a new perspective. And here’s what she said:

It’s not about a miracle baby, Love. That’s just the symbol. It’s really about the miracle rebirth of hope and faith. 

Oh, my. That’s exactly the gift I needed this Christmas, I just didn’t know how to ask for it. With tears streaming down my face, I asked for forgiveness for my lack of trust. I felt humbled by the abundance of good gifts I do have in my life, and I expressed my gratitude to God who has great things planned for me and delivers in ways I could never have imagined.

If I could give you one gift this holiday season—whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Al-Hirjra, or a tradition of your own making—it would be what I have received myself: a renewed sense of hope, a heart full of love, and peace within.

May you experience unexpected blessings today, dear sisters.

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

To New Beginnings

Red reset buttonIf you’re reading this post, it means the world didn’t end on Friday. I’m glad; I have a lot of things I still want to do, and there are presents underneath my Christmas tree that I’m looking forward to opening.

While many folks predicted December 21st to be the cataclysmic end of life as we know it, in reality the end of the Mayan Long Calendar was simply the end of a cycle and the beginning of a new cycle, kind of like the odometer in your car going back to 000000. Instead of the end of time, this new cycle is more of a reset button.

I love the idea of a reset button. In fact, I wish the Mayan Long Calendar was considerably shorter so we could get to reset more frequently. Often, as we rumble along, life sticks to us.  But it doesn’t slow us down. Rather, life’s experiences, and especially the stresses and hurts, add to our mass and increase our momentum, until sometimes we find ourselves barreling along, feeling out of control of our emotions, our stress, and even our lives in general.

And then come the holidays. Holiday stress can certainly add to that momentum, even more so when your emotions are already running high and your holidays aren’t shaping up to the way you’d envisioned them.

So, this year I’m pressing my own reset button. I’m slowly letting go of the image of my ideal Christmas and I’ve begun experimenting with creating a new Christmas celebration that better suits my unconventional family. Instead of trying to adapt my old traditions, then feeling disappointed when they don’t live up to my expectations, I’m shaking up the way I celebrate the holidays.

This year Mr. Fab and I are going out of town for Christmas; we’ll be celebrating on Christmas Eve, instead of our old traditional Christmas Day; and we’re going out for dinner instead of cooking a big traditional meal. We’re hitting the reset button on the holidays and taking back Christmas in our own way.

At its very core, Christmas is a celebration of new beginnings, and I hope you’re pressing your own reset button and creating your own way to celebrate the holidays. No matter how you choose to celebrate, I wish you peace, happiness, and new beginnings. And to those of you who celebrate, I wish you a Merry Christmas.

That One Weird Childfree Holiday Card in the Stack

 By Maybe Lady Liz

They’re starting to roll in. The waves of holiday cards featuring happy families festooned in matching red turtlenecks ‘round the tree or Canadian tuxedos on the beach. There will be some derivation of a toddler with his arms slung around Dad’s neck. Or Mom watching the kids play on a blanket. Or an Ann Geddes-esque shot of a newborn falling asleep on a reindeer’s back, adorned with nothing more than a tiny Santa hat. If you’re lucky, and your friends and family are deft enough with Snapfish, you’ll get ALL THREE in an artistically staggered arrangement.

And if you’re like me, you won’t be able to stop yourself from comparing them to the cards you’ve sent out over the past few years. Maybe you’ve squeezed your cats into little elf outfits and reindeer antlers (and lost an arm in the process). Maybe you’ve posed with your spouse in front of some magnificent European landmark in a subconscious attempt to remind everyone how awesome it is that you have the freedom and cash to travel. Or maybe you’re like me and my husband, who always try to outdo ourselves every year in the clever department. Last year, we put photos of ourselves at age 6, side-by-side, each ripping into hilariously dated gifts, and titled it “Keep Christmas old-school.”

And in years past, when our friends would send just a ho-hum photo with a generic greeting, we were pretty proud of the fact that our card stood out from the pack and had a little personality. We used to tack it up on the half-wall in our kitchen with all the others and pat ourselves on the back. But as the years have gone by, our card has started to stand out for a very different reason. Instead of noticing the unique panache of our card, I’ve started to see what’s missing: a baby, of course. Kids on Santa’s lap, all that jazz.

I try not to let it happen, but I can’t help but look at my cards in a different light – through the eyes of those who are sending out the baby cards. All our attempts at being so clever probably seem silly, frivolous, immature, shallow, self-centered (words that sound familiar to anyone who actually chooses to be Childfree). They must seem like a stage that was supposed to be passed by now, but isn’t. No doubt they somehow seem…less than they’re supposed to be, to them.

I know, I know – it’s probably all in my head and these aren’t very Christmas-y thoughts. But fear not. I’ll keep the funny Childfree holiday cards rolling. Somebody’s gotta Keep Christmas Weird.

Merry%20Christmas%20from%20The%20Ferences

Maybe Lady Liz is blogging her way through the decision of whether to create her own Cheerio-encrusted ankle-biters, or remain Childfree. You can follow her through the ups and downs at MaybeBabyMaybeNot.com.

It Got Me Thinking…“The Good and the Brutal”

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

“Aunt Kath….” My four-year-old nephew looked up at me with his big brown eyes, my sister’s eyes.

“Yes, love.”

“You know what I’m doing right now?”

“Nope. Tell me.”

“I’m pretending you’re my mommy.”

My heart swelled to three times its size before I felt like it was then ripped out of my chest. Choking back a sob, I said, “That’s so sweet. Thank you. Tell me….” But before I could ask him about this imaginary family of his, where he got the idea, what kind of mommy I was (funny, strict, a lot like his real mommy), he had moved on to a new topic, something to do with a game he likes to play at his preschool. Hours later, alone with my thoughts, I revisited this exchange and struggled to come to terms with what it did to me.

I’m not new to this conversation. This sweet boy is the youngest of six nieces and nephews, and each has gone through this phase of wanting to pretend I’m their mommy. Out to lunch or shopping with a niece (“Let’s pretend you’re my mom.”), playing in the park with a nephew (“Maybe they think you’re my mom.”). They’re all great kids, so I’m flattered and touched by their game. And they’re all great kids, so it also slays me emotionally. I would have loved being their mom.

I expected to grieve my losses, feel left out, and wrestle with difficult choices in the coming-to-terms-with-being-childfree dance. I just didn’t think that the same moments that fill my soul with unanticipated joy could also send me into new cycles of depression. Brutal, right?

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