filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
When a reader suggested this week’s topic, I spotted myself immediately. The topic is:
Staying busy to fill the hole left by children
Work, hobbies, school, projects, friends in need, volunteering: Have you packed your life with busyness in order to fill a gap?
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s on your mind today?
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I really thought I was healed, or at least was very close. I had mostly released what I felt I’d been cheated out of and was actively embracing a Plan B. I felt like a trailblazer, a role model, a success story.
Oh, how the mighty fall.
It was late on a gloomy, wintry afternoon when I came across a photo on Facebook of a dear friend, her wonderful husband, and their two beautiful children decorating their Christmas tree together. Something I will never get to do. One look at that image of perfection—my idea of perfection—and I lost it.
We’re talking throwing-family-heirloom-ornaments-in-the-trash kind of lost it. All the anger, bitterness, hurt, shame, heartaches, sadness, unfairness, why-not-me-ness I thought I’d worked out of my system came down upon me like a devastating avalanche. It was epic. It was ugly.
Fortunately, I got talked back out of my hell-hole by an understanding husband and compassionate friend. The tossed ornaments were retrieved, my body was hugged, my spirit was soothed. (But, no, I was not able to bring myself to decorate my home for merriment I could not fake.)
Humbled, and more than a little embarrassed, I took a fresh look at myself and again was reminded that the whole grieving-to-healing journey is not as straightforward as traveling from A to B. It’s crooked, jagged, with obstacles, speed bumps, and small triumphs followed cruel “family” holidays. Recovery is a process.
My friends who have battled alcohol addiction know quite a bit about what it means to be in recovery, and I think we can benefit from their wisdom and experience. When the temptation to slide back down into the deep, dark holes of depression and despair grows strong, when our resolve is weakened, when recovery seems like too much work or unachievable, we can borrow some of their slogans and tell ourselves:
Keep it simple.
Easy does it.
First things first.
Just for today.
How important is it?
Keep an open mind.
Live and let live.
Let go and let God.
One day at a time.
I now keep these reminders on my desktop, within reach for when I need a boost or in case I feel a new meltdown coming on. Perhaps one of them will help you today.
During the holiday season, Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a little less at peace with her child-less status.
Mr. Fab and I got rid of our TV when we first moved in together and—apart from on a handful of occasions—we haven’t missed it at all.
One of the things I definitely don’t miss is the topic of this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Kid-centric advertising
I’m sure you know what I mean—those ads selling products you might actually use, but which start out with lines like, “We know your family is important to you that’s why you use [fill in the blank product].”
It’s Whiny Wednesday and open season for any topic that’s on your mind.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
If you’re in the U.S., you just got through or are in the midst of one of our biggest “family” holidays of the year. Feeling thankful? Yeah, me neither.
We’ve officially kicked off the holiday season—yes, a whole miserable season—that often feels like a series of slaps across the face for those of us who are childless-not-by-choice: the pageants with the impossibly adorable miniature angels, the onslaught of family photo cards and newsy letters, those awfully festive reunions that bring together multiple generations (and unwanted questions), the traditions we’ll never get to share, every little slight and hurt that reminds us of what we wanted and didn’t get to have. I’m all wrung out just from the anticipation!
But this year I have a plan for how I can get through the next several weeks with a bit of calm and brightness. In my schedule, between the shoulds and the musts, I am going to book out some time for myself. I am going to prepare now to welcome a most special guest into my home for the holidays: Me.
Think about it. If your dearest friend was coming to stay, how would you treat her? I might:
How might you treat your most honored guest? Share your ideas in the Comments, then let’s commit to creating a true bit of holiday for ourselves.
If you’re struggling this holiday season, I encourage you to explore the Life Without Baby site for resources. Check out the Forums and Groups, reach out to others through Comments, or pick up some of the recommended Books. We may not be able to guarantee merriment, but we can offer compassion.
By Lisa Manterfield
Next week we celebrate Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and I am looking forward to it. A couple of years ago, Mr. Fab and I started a new tradition of spending the day with good friends. Mr. Fab is cooking a decidedly nontraditional Thanksgiving dinner, so all I’ll have to do, aside from a few sous chef duties, is show up and have a good time.
I know for many of you, Thanksgiving might not be such a fun time. Traditionally, it’s a holiday when families gather, which might mean facing insensitive relatives and prying questions about children. It also marks the beginning of what can often be the most difficult time of the year, with social gatherings, kid-oriented activities, and constant reminders of the many ways we don’t get to celebrate the holidays.
I love that this community includes new readers and seasoned pros, so let’s help one another out this year by sharing ideas on getting through the season with our hearts intact.
What are some of the issues you know you’ll face this holiday season? What events are you dreading? What’s going to be hardest for you?
And perhaps most important of all, how to do plan to get through the season with minimum emotional damage?
November is the month for Bonfire Night in the U.K. As a child, it was one of my favorite nights of the year, second only to Christmas Eve.
We’d have a bonfire in the backyard, and my dad would bring home a box of fireworks to set off and a couple of packets of sparklers. We’d have baked potatoes and roast chestnuts, and my mum would make parkin and gooey, delicious bonfire toffee. It was an evening spent outdoors, clustered around the fire. It was about friends and food and a little bit of danger.
It’s one of the many things I miss about my homeland, and it’s one of the traditions I would have enjoyed sharing with my children. And that’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Traditions you won’t get to share with your children
Happy Bonfire Night and happy whining.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I think a lot of us can relate to Sarah’s story. Following three miscarriages, she is now, at age 36, facing a life without children and struggling to accept her new path. When asked “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” she said, “Knowing what I am missing, imagining the ‘ghosts’ of my nonexistent children just doing everyday things. We only have one life to live, and I am never going to get to experience being a mother in my life.”
That last comment is just a dagger to my heart. I can feel the pain of her losses as I read the details of her story, and I hope after you’ve read it, you’ll offer her some sisterly understanding and compassion in the Comments.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Sarah: I always wanted kids. I remember how I felt the first time a baby fall asleep on my chest when I was babysitting. Now I feel like my soul has been hollowed out from my chest, leaving a gaping hole.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Sarah: Three miscarriages, all the tests, no explanation. Now my husband says he can’t do it anymore, can’t see me go through it again.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Sarah: Angry, beyond sad, torn between acceptance, and trying behind my husband’s back since he said no to IVF.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Sarah: In my head I say “None living.” I wish I could say it out loud. But usually I just say “No” and do whatever I can to get away.
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Sarah: My dogs are my salvation. I don’t know what I would do without them. I look forward to being able to be a great dog mom and spending more time on my own life.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Sarah: There is so much out there on infertility, but it’s always about people trying to get pregnant. I am so glad to see that some people are here saying they are working on living childfree. It’s better than dwelling on infertility. I have spent 20 years thinking about being pregnant and having kids. Here I can start to change the conversation.
Where are you on your journey? Are your 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.
Next Tuesday is Halloween, which for many of us means streams of cute children knocking on our front doors.
Love it or hate it; it’s hard to avoid it. So the discussion topic for this week is:
How do you handle this difficult holiday?
As it’s Whiny Wednesday, there’s room for your gripes here, too.
By Lisa Manterfield
There was a time when I found it difficult to be around mothers of young children. It was hard to listen to them talk about their kids when I felt I had nothing to contribute, and it was painful to know that I’d never be able to share those experiences with them. I couldn’t bear to hear their sweet or funny stories, and it made my blood boil to hear them complain. What I wouldn’t have given for the chance to be kept awake all night by a colicky baby.
As I’ve progressed on my journey and begun to heal, it’s become easier for me to spend time with mothers, to listen to their stories, to speak up when I have something to add, and even to commiserate about the hard stuff, without feeling resentful.
I’m listening to what they say about motherhood and I’m hearing a common theme: Motherhood chips away at them until they lose touch with the women they once were. They love their children, they love being mothers, but they resent how all-consuming the job is and how much of themselves they lose to their families, until they know longer know who they are.
There are always two sides to every story, pros and cons, gains and losses. When we don’t get something we want and deserve, it’s easy to focus on what’s lost—the experiences, the opportunities, and the stories we won’t get to tell. But what about what’s gained? And what about what’s not lost? What about the sacrifices we didn’t have to make and the women we now get to be?
I may not be the woman I’d once hoped to be—a mother—but I know who I am now, and a part of me is grateful for what I didn’t have to lose: myself.
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
