Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Mari

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Mari has been through the wringer, specifically the wringer called stage II endometriosis. While it’s considered a “mild” condition, its effects on fertility can be devastating and cruel.

 As I read about Mari’s journey, I, like Mari, wondered how many other LWBers have been suffering from this. Is endometriosis part of your childless-not-by-choice story? If so, I hope you’ll share some of your experience in the Comments.

When asked “What’s the best advice you’d offer someone like you?”, Mari replied: “Follow your gut, do whatever you need to do to get answers. Explore all your options. And most of all, take care of yourself.”

Here’s how Mari took care of herself.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Mari: My dad died when I was 14, so my dreams of motherhood included having a boy and seeing my father in him. My husband has red hair, and I always imagined we would also have a little girl, with wavy red hair and freckles. We’d dress them in knit hats with animal ears and witty onesies. We would go camping, carve pumpkins, find a great sledding hill nearby…every season would have special moments.

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

Mari: By chance and circumstance. My husband and I had a lot of anxiety about parenthood, so we left it up to nature the first year. Much to my surprise, it didn’t happen. So I got in the game and tracked my basal body temperature, etc….still nothing. Meanwhile, everyone around me seemed to be getting pregnant without trying. When was it going to be our turn? What was wrong with me? Maybe this delay was just the universe telling us to go have an adventure while we can. So we took a trip to Japan, something we always talked about doing someday. I had hoped to conceive a “souvenir” while we were there. Shortly after our return, I decided it was time for fertility testing. We passed everything with flying colors except for what my doctor thought was a fibroid on my HSG [hysterosalpingogram] X-ray. I scheduled hysteroscopic surgery for removal, but it turned out to be just an air bubble on the X-ray from the contrast fluid. I felt like such a fool for getting my hopes up that this would be our fix, and for paying several thousand dollars for NOTHING. We tried IUI [intrauterine insemination] once after that, then decided to keep trying on our own since we couldn’t find anything wrong. A few times I wondered if I had endometriosis, but my OB/GYN wasn’t concerned since adhesions didn’t show up on the X-ray or in the pictures they took with the hysteroscope.

LWB: What was your turning point?

Mari: This spring I was at the outlet mall for a girls shopping trip. We went into a kids clothing store for my nieces and nephews, as we do every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around and be reminded of my broken dreams, to feel my heart sink each time I saw clothing I would pick for my own little ones. So I hung out by the door, watching glowing mothers parade in and out, feeling so many awful feelings. Then the tears came. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to move forward until I had answers. I went to see the fertility specialist again who recommended laparoscopic surgery, since endometriosis makes up about 40% of unexplained infertility cases. My OB/GYN advised against it, saying I could put that money toward IVF. But I went with my gut and did it anyway, based on my history of painful periods and IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) symptoms. And I was right: Surgery revealed stage II endometriosis, with adhesions near my bowel and appendix.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Mari: We’ve spoken with adoption agencies and have had an IVF consult, but can’t bring ourselves to commit to what would be an even more expensive and emotionally draining journey. Stage II endometriosis equals mild endometriosis, so we’re back to leaving it up to nature, even though our chances of conception are slim. I’m fed up with hope, with bullshit miracle stories about a friend of a friend who conceived a unicorn by eating a rainbow. I just want to “be” for a while. To sum it up, I would say we are taking a break until our Plan B becomes clear to us.

 

On your journey, was there a turning point moment when you listened to your body and defied an “expert’s” advice? Perhaps you pursued a test that confirmed a barrier you suspected, or perhaps it was that moment when your body announced it was DONE trying to conceive and nudged you forward into grieving and acceptance. We’d like to hear from 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.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

How Not to Say the Wrong Thing

By Lisa Manterfield

I often refer to this article by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman about how not to say the wrong thing to someone in crisis. I wish it was mandatory reading for everyone, and I especially wish it came with a note explaining that it applies when talking to infertiles and the childless-not-by-choice.

The gist of their Ring Theory is that the person in crisis is at the center of the ring and those next closest to the person occupy subsequent rings. In the case of someone coming to terms with not having children, she would be at the center, her spouse or partner on the next ring, perhaps closest family and friends on the next, and more distant family, coworkers, and acquaintances beyond that.

The rule is that that if people have something mean or insensitive or opinionated to say, they say it to someone on a bigger ring. When speaking to someone on a smaller ring, they can only listen or—if they must say something—offer help, support, or comfort. No advice, no miracle stories, no blame or shame. No offering of their kids, no suggestions to adopt. “I’m sorry” is all that needs to be said. If they want to dump, dump outwards, not inwards.

I wish people would understand that someone who has just acknowledged she won’t ever have children is in crisis, and what she needs more than judgment and unhelpful help is for people to say to the right thing.

How Infertility Stole My Confidence

By Lisa Manterfield

I was always a pretty confident person, even as a child. I could be quite shy, and still am at times, but I was never fearful. I firmly believed that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to and I wasn’t afraid to try anything. I backpacked around South America, jumped out of airplanes, and tried all kinds of strange foods. If anyone told me it couldn’t be done, I took it as a cue to prove her wrong.

This is not the person I am anymore.

I’ve seen a difference in myself. I’m more timid about getting out there and going for what I want. I’ve become a nervous flyer, popping Rescue Remedy and gripping the seat arms on flights. I’ve even caught myself assessing flight times and potential for disaster when considering a trip. I can’t seem to make a decision without asking for opinions from everyone and then second-guessing myself.

After a friend commented on the change, I’m started to take a long hard look at what had happened to me, and the thing that popped to the forefront of my mind is infertility.

I hate to pin everything that’s wrong in my life on infertility, but in this case, I think I’m right. Infertility has taught me that I can’t always get what I want, if only I’d try hard enough. It’s taught me that bad things do happen to good people, and they could even happen to me. And it’s taught me that I am not invincible, and that has made a giant fissure in my confidence.

It’s very disturbing to realize this has happened, because this is not who I am. I am not a timid mouse. I am not afraid of life, but these past several years, that’s who I’ve become.

So, how to undo the damage?

Self-awareness is the first step. Now I know I’m this way, I’m checking in with myself when I feel my courage waver. It’s very helpful to step away from myself and look at what I’m really afraid of, instead of just pulling the blankets over my head and giving into it.

I’m also looking for the old Lisa in some of the places she used to be most confident. I took up orienteering again, which used to be a sport I was pretty good at. I’m not quite as fit as I used to be, but the old skills are still there and reawakening them is helping my confidence to grow again. I’m trying to recognize fear and treat it accordingly.

Finally I’m looking for ways to gently push myself out of my comfort zone (and I’m dragging poor Mr. Fab out of his, too.) We’re learning to sail, something we’ve never done together before. It’s just a small step, but it’s definitely an area in which neither of us is an expert, and yet I’m quite confident that we will survive.

I know I am not invincible, but I want to find my confidence again. According to my plan, I’m not even halfway through my life, and I don’t want to spend those years afraid of what might, or might not, happen.

Our Stories: M

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

M’s turning point came after six long years of enduring the physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion of infertility. “I wanted to feel like I was living again,” she says, “free from the ‘will we?’ or ‘won’t we?’ limbo land.” Having also “gambled away” thousands of dollars on IVF, she and her husband, E, made the difficult decision to “step away from the pursuit of a lifelong dream, knowing we did all we could.”

Making the decision to stop is one thing. “Changing my mindset from ‘when we have kids’ to ‘we’re childfree’ is not an easy or quick process,” she says. “I’ve had the ‘when I have kids’ mindset for 40 years!”

As their journey unfolded, M and E wondered where the other people like them were. So they started a podcast to talk about the scary and difficult parts of this journey, to include the male perspective, to connect with other people who are going through what they’re going through, that is, trying to figure out what a childfree life can look like. After you read M’s story below, listen in on some of their real, relatable, thought-provoking, and sometimes amusing conversations at How Did We Get Here? with E&M.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

M: I always wanted to be a mother. I dreamt about it as a little girl as I played with my baby dolls. I couldn’t wait until the day that I got to experience being pregnant, having a baby shower, decorating a nursery, choosing a name, and on and on. Throughout my twenties and thirties, I saw friend after friend experience these things, and I hoped that my turn would come. I wondered what our baby would look like and how they would take after their dad or me. So many dreams from pregnancy to sending them to college to their wedding….

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

M: We tried to conceive for about six years. My husband had an infertility outpatient surgery early in our journey, which led to a major emergency surgery, 25 days in the hospital, and more than a year of recovery. He came very close to losing his life, and the entire experience was very traumatic for us both. A few years after he healed, we decided to try IVF. After three rounds of IVF (one transfer, zero pregnancies), we decided to stop trying to conceive and remain a family of two.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

M: We decided earlier this year to stop infertility treatments and live childfree. I am in a period of grieving while accepting and planning our Plan B life. I do still have some anger about all that we’ve been through, and am not totally sure how to deal with it. I’m trying to be patient/compassionate toward myself, which is not always easy.

My husband and I are journeying through this transition on a podcast, How Did We Get Here? with E & M. This journey feels so lonely sometimes, and we thought a podcast might help us to connect with others going through the same thing, would be therapeutic for us and hopefully helpful for others too. (Side note: We make $0 from the podcast. It’s just something we do for us, from our home.)

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

M: “Mother” has always been a part of my identity since I was a very young girl. So now…it feels like a very sacred part of me is dying and the grief is hard to put into words.

LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?

M: Dive into the waves of grief; don’t try to ignore them or fight them. Give yourself as much time as you need to feel whatever you need to feel. There’s no timeline. I remind myself of this advice often.

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

M: I love the freedom we have to make decisions based solely on what we want. I love how calm and peaceful our home is—especially when I hear the kids next door being difficult, loud, or whiny! I love how much my husband and I appreciate one another after surviving this journey together.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

M: I am so much more resilient than I ever knew! Even when I’m overwhelmed with tears of grief, I feel my strength. I know the tears will pass and that I’ll be okay. Life has run me over many times, and yet I’m still standing. I’m proud of that.

 

How are you faring today? We’d love to hear about your journey, wherever you are on your path toward acceptance, 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 getting ready to tell her own story. The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

Whiny Wednesday: Left Hanging by the Fertility Industry

This week’s topic is for those of you who arrived here via the infertility route.

Do you feel you were left hanging by the fertility industry?

Okay, I know that’s a loaded question, so if you don’t feel like jumping in on this topic, or if it doesn’t apply to you, feel free to bring your own whine to the party this week.

If I Had to Go Through Infertility Again…

By Lisa Manterfield

Mr. Fab and I don’t talk much anymore about our infertility journey. He’d as soon forget the whole ordeal and I prefer to look forward rather than dwelling on what might have been. But recently it came up in conversation.

“If I had to do it all again, I would,” he told me.

My first thought was “No way!” I wouldn’t wish that experience on my worst enemy and I don’t think I could bear to see Mr. Fab go through it again. But when I thought about it some more, I see there are positives that came out of it.

We are tougher than we were before, both individually and as a couple. We now know we can weather a major storm, and we’ll be okay when the next one comes along (and they always come along). I’m more compassionate toward others who might be in pain, now that I know what it’s like to be smiling in public and dying on the inside. I learned a lot about myself and how I handle crisis, and we’ve learned about one another. We’ve uncovered the people we really are.

So if I had to do it all again, I would. Would you?

It Got Me Thinking…About What Will Define Me

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I was telling a good friend about a difficult and concerning work-related problem I was having, once again airing my righteous grievances, expressing my frustration at not being able to resolve the issue, bemoaning the fact that my life seemed to be such a never-ending struggle.

“Is this going to define you?” she asked.

What? She’d stopped me cold.

“Is This Going To Define You?” She reached for my hand and took a deep breath.

“Look,” she said, “what you’ve gone through—are going through—is real. And it’s awful and ugly and unfair and everything you’ve said. But. You have a choice. You can wallow in being the victim of all this mess, or you can choose to move forward, in whatever way you can. You can choose what will define you.”

Over the next several days I really thought about what my wise friend had said. She was right. I couldn’t change the choices and behaviors of the other people in this scenario with me, but I did have the power to choose how I would react and who I would become.

Then I got to thinking about my status as a childless woman and how I might apply this advice there. I’m not saying take a stiff-upper-lip approach, because I believe all the stages of grieving are necessary and serve purposes. But at some point, if I want to reach a place of acceptance and peace, I will need to let go and move on. I can choose to be “bitter childless woman” or I can choose to be “strong woman who made the most out of what she got.”

Other people will have their own definitions of me, and that’s their business. The only definition that truly matters, I’ve come to believe, is my own.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is telling the story about her journey in The Mother of All Dilemmas. As she shares her quest to become a single mother (and ultimately embraces a life without children), she explores why society still appears to base a woman’s worth on how many children she has. Watch for updates on the book’s release here at LifeWithoutBaby.com.

 

Whiny Wednesday: You Wouldn’t Understand


I know I’m probably going to have to duck for cover with this week’s topic. We’ve all heard it and the sting never seems to diminish. So here we go:

“You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids.”

I’ll be behind the couch if you need me.

Finding Your Old Self After Infertility

By Lisa Manterfield

At this point in my life, I can truly say I at peace with not having children. But for a long time there were days when the darkness came over me. Do you know what I mean?

Ordinarily, the darkness was a tiny ball that I carried it around with me wherever I went. It was safely tucked away and I didn’t even notice it. Then something would happen to flip the lid and suddenly the darkness crept into every open space within me.

I got tired of carrying the darkness around and finally I was ready to let it go. I didn’t want to feel bitter or sad about not having children, because honestly, I was okay. But I couldn’t remember who I was any more. When I looked in the mirror I didn’t see me. I saw a woman who looked tired and overweight, and very, very serious about life. She didn’t laugh easily or live with abandon, like the real me used to. She was cautious and unwilling to let herself go. She felt like a square peg in a world full of round holes and it was lonely to live that way.

Our experiences make us who we are, but what happens to who we were? In a universe where energy remains constant, I knew that the old me — the laughing, carefree joyous me — must still have been around. I’d catch glimpses of her sometimes, and like a huntress, I’d follow her into the woods. And yet, so often, she managed to evade me.

But I was patient. I kept an eye on her and kept moving towards her. I kept hunting her, until I caught up with her again. And finally, she I were able to stand together again and let the darkness go.

Are you missing the old you? Where might you go to find her again?

Our Stories: Jen

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I wrote to thank Jen for sharing her story, I added one of the big things I’ve learned over the years is there are LWB women all over the world who have been suffering in silence and often shame. Then we read one of Our Stories and realize we’re not crazy, we’re not alone.

Jen understood completely. “I feel my story is taboo and isn’t talked about often,” she replied. “For years I looked for others who I could walk with in my journey,” she said. “A lot of times I don’t share what I am going through because people assume I can magically change my life for the better. I’ve heard ‘divorce and date, adopt, fool around,’ etc. I worked hard for a secure home, but just don’t feel it’s safe anymore.”

Finding LWB has helped her, and I am so grateful that we have this safe space where all our voices can be heard and supported.

Here’s Jen’s story. If you can relate to it, I hope you’ll offer her words of compassion and encouragement in the Comments.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Jen: Loving and mentoring my children. Listening when they need someone to care.

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

Jen: Circumstance. My husband cheated while we attempted. During and since then, he has said I’m physically the reason why I will never have children.

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

Jen: I work with teenagers during the school year, younger children during the summer. I have a gift working with kids, how to talk to them, listen to them, encourage them. All that, and I can’t have my own child.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Jen: Roller coaster of all the above. There are days when I’m at my best. Maybe it’s making my sister, her husband, and their toddler happy. Maybe it’s elementary school kids during the summer day camp saying they liked my choice in songs. Many teenagers at the high school where I work at call me their “campus mom”. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.

Then there are days when I’m told I am inadequate to have a child. Maybe it’s because of a wrong decision I made, or more often I’m told with disgust that I’m overweight (size 12–14) with a family history of diabetes.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Jen: A couple years ago I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be best (maybe closer to worse) for my child to have my husband as a father, and it was best to give away any baby items I had in the house. I had to give up or be brought further into depression.

LWB: Who is your personal chero (a heroine who happens to be childfree)? What about her inspires you?

Jen: A coworker of mine is childless due to cancer (now in remission). She believes in God and she knows her gift is to mentor kids. She has perfected listening to teenagers, and giving them advice and encouragement so they can make better decisions. These teenagers know they have someone who cares. [My coworker has helped me] realize I have that same gift with kids of different ages that I work with throughout the year. I remind them of their value and how important they are.

LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”

Jen: Politely say “No,” and if they ask why, come up with a reason appropriate for the audience. They mean well, so it isn’t right to take my frustration out on them.

 

How do you answer “Do you have kids?” Are you sarcastic or flippant? Does the word “No” tumble out with ease, or do you dissolve into a puddle of tears? Has your answer evolved? We’d love to hear about your journey, wherever you are on your path toward acceptance, 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 getting ready to tell her own story. The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.