Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About Evil Fantasies

It was a dark and stormy period in my life. I was single, alone, lonely, and hoping to turn my close-knit group of friends into a contemporary family unit. One of those friends, Karen*, was going through a particularly ugly period with her siblings and felt like she also needed to redefine family. So she presented me with an idea that seemed to partially solve both our problems:

“If something happens to me and my husband,” she said, “what would you think of being our children’s guardian?”

No brainer. I loved Karen and her husband and would do anything to help them. I also loved her kids, and I knew I would step in and do my very best to raise them well.

Plus, instant family! I started to plan out various scenarios with me in the starring role. The comforter, the mentor, the auntie admired by all for courageously and selflessly raising someone else’s children. The proud substitute-mom at soccer games, choir performances, and graduations. The doting grandmother….

Whoa.

I completely glossed over the tragic demise of two close friends.

You’ll be relieved to know that Karen and her husband are alive and well, and their kids are now in college. Karen reconciled with her siblings and designated one of her brothers and his wife as potential guardians. All was as it should be.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. I knew it was wrong, but those evil fantasies were tantalizing, alluring, even comforting. Getting a ready-made family seemed simpler (and possibly more possible) than my plan for dating, finding a suitable husband/father, and following the traditional route to family making (which, as you all know, didn’t pan out for me).

Every so often a mom friend will complain to me about her kids and say, “Do you want them?” and I’ll think, Be careful what you wish for.

 

*Not her real name.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

 

Whiny Wednesday: The Illusion of Other People’s Perfect Lives

Facebook has been the topic of many Whiny Wednesday rants, and rightly so. Social media in general has perpetuated a myth of happiness that can make any kind of pain feel worse. So this week, our topic is this:

“The Illusion of Other People’s Perfect Lives”

Let us know how you feel.

 

Whiny Wednesday: Left Hanging by the Fertility Industry

40 years after the birth of the first IVF baby, the fertility industry has come a long way. But when it comes to the psychological aspects of infertility, most clinics are still in the dark ages. And for those of us for whom IVF was not the magic fix, what happens to us afterwards?

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.

Our Stories Update: Justine

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

It’s been four years since Justine first shared her story with us. I remember reading it for the first time and feeling in awe of the strength she had to state “I will always be a mother,” and how she defined that. Today she continues to impress me with her courage, her candor, her grace as she lives her life.

Her original story, first posted in June of 2014, appears below, followed by her update. The words of encouragement she now offers to her younger self inspire me, and I hope they will inspire you too.

•   •   •

Serious back problems (including surgeries and a year spent in a body cast) in her youth caused Justine to never be able to carry a pregnancy, so she didn’t think much about becoming a mother. Then the gestational surrogacy option became a media darling, and she started to think about new possibilities for creating a family. Justine and her husband endured two rounds of IVF, two transfers, and the loss of three potential babies. She’s 34 now. They have stopped all treatments, know that adoption is not an option, and are actively working to accept a childfree life together. Here’s some of her story.

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

Justine: Always fighting this feeling of not belonging. In every sense of the traditional woman my age, I will not belong because I am not a mother. However, I have learned that I will always belong, even when I do not feel I fit in, because that is my right and worthiness.

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

Justine: That I will always be a mother. I mother and parent my dogs. I mother and parent my clients as a therapist. I mother and parent all the children in my life. I just mother and parent in a different way, and in a lot of ways, I have a bigger audience than I would have if I’d had my own children. I also get to have different—not necessarily better, but just different—relationships with all of the children in my life because I am not their actual parent.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Justine: I’m a lot stronger and braver than I thought I was, especially in owning my story with courage.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, teachers, strangers) to know about your being childfree?

Justine: I think a lot of times we are considered to be sad and bitter women, or people feel major pity for us. I think after we do our work of recovering from struggles we can actually have better and happier lives. It took major work to get to this side. My sad and bitter moments are few and far between, but I have to stay on top of my recovery.

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

Justine: I hit people with the truth and take the teaching moment. I usually say something to the effect that we tried to have our own children but can’t. I might say that we are learning to accept a childfree life, but we have a lot of children in our lives through our friends and family.

LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?

Justine: Continue my recovery, especially getting stronger in it. I will continue to work on my blog, Ever Upward [see below]. I hope that it can reach more and more women and continue to open up the conversation to the other side of infertility.

•   •   •

LWB: Where are you on your journey today?

Justine: Grief is lifelong—I will have forever wonders of who my three would be. And, I love my life. Love it. Every day I do the work to honor myself and my three, living in the sacred space of the forever grieving mother and doing the work to make it all a gift. I am the best version of myself, and I got myself back, the better self, after this brutal journey and because I choose to do the daily work of moving through grief, loving myself and others, living authentically, and teaching it to others. Because I am a mother of mothers. Because I am a mother. Because, without a doubt, I choose to love my journey, hard parts and all.

LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?

Justine: Keep going. It will be harder, and most of all, more beautiful, grand, and better than you ever imagined.

Learn more about Justine’s work, her books, and her blog at her website.

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About the Playground Ban

I love playgrounds. I love the smells of grass and sand, and that tangy scent from old metal swing chains and jungle gyms. When I take one of the many little humans in my life out for a play date, a nearby park is frequently our destination, and when I’m out on my own or with a dog, I love to sit and simply watch and listen to the sounds of joy and happiness.

Maybe that’s why I take the growing “No Adults Allowed” trend so personally.

As a childfree human, my presence near a playground is now suspect. I am no longer welcome, I am no longer allowed, and it hurts.

I understand the concerns, certainly in light of the horror stories that appear in the nightly news about child abuse and abductions. If I were a parent, I wouldn’t want to be worrying that a serial molester was shooting video of his future victims while I ignorantly let my babies twirl on the merry-go-round.

And yet…parks to me symbolize a little piece of freedom in our ever-stressed-out world. A place where we can run in circles till we fall down in dizzy giggles, or chase a butterfly or kite, or lie in the grass and look for shapes in the clouds. Parks are where we can escape all of our shoulds and should-haves and, for a briefly delicious period, let our minds wander and our imaginations expand.

As a child, I loved to create secret missions for myself that involved climbing trees, hiding behind benches, and talking into my watch as I, a super-hero spy, brought down the bad guys (Nancy Drew and Charlie’s Angels were my peers in my fantasy world). When I was a young-ish adult, I loved following my nephews down the slides and pushing my nieces in the swings as they squealed, “Higher, Aunt Kath, higher!” These days I’m content to sit on the sidelines, enjoying the cacophony of shouts and laughter as other children create their own adventures. For a few moments, I can soak up a bit of their free-spiritedness, and even allow myself to drift in a big girl fantasy in which one of those sweet voices belongs to a child of mine.

Alas, it’s no longer allowed.

Kathleen’s favorite places on earth include New York’s Central Park, Rome’s Borghese Gardens, South Pasadena’s Garfield Park, and Stow Lake in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park.

Whiny Wednesday: Feeling Pressure to Get Over the Loss

With any kind of grief, there comes a point where those around you expect you to be over it. For many of us, that point comes just as the full impact of loss is hitting us and we are far from okay.  So here’s this week’s topic:

The pressure to “get over” your loss

Have you felt that pressure from those around you?

 

Whiny Wednesday: Having Kids Made Me Grow Up

It’s Whiny Wednesday and this is one that always makes me scratch my head:

“Having kids made me grow up.”

So, does this mean I’m not a grown-up? Because if so, I’d like to relinquish all these grown-up responsibilities I seem to have. How about you?

It Got Me Thinking…About Beloved Books

There’s one shelf in my office where I keep my most favorite books, the ones that touched my heart and sparked my imagination, the ones I’d saved because I knew I’d want to read them again some day.

In January I pulled them all out, thinking this would be a good year to revisit them. While I eagerly anticipated re-reading brilliant novels, genre-challenging classics, and inspiring biographies, there was one category that pinched an especially sensitive nerve: the beloved books from my childhood.

Charlotte’s Web, the Little House in the Prairie series, the adventures of Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, all the Harry Potter books. I had saved those books, moved them from apartment to apartment, with the intention—and the hopes—of one day reading them to and with my own children. Alas….

Offers of some to nieces and nephews were declined, typically because they had already outgrown the stories. I had to think hard about what I was going to do with these treasures of mine.

Read them. Ah-hah. That’s what I chose to do. Read them to myself, for myself. And so I dug in.

At this point I still have the Mark Twain books in my to read stack, but all the others have been enjoyed, devoured, and—to my surprise—released. I discovered I needed to love them one last time before I could consider where they might go next.

A couple of those books have been gifted to the daughters of a friend (which made me so happy to do). Others will be donated to the library, where I trust they will thrill some young reader. None of them are going back on my shelf.

I just caught my breath. A year ago I could not have imagined saying that I had, without an emotional breakdown, let them go.

This got me thinking about the whole grieving process. Over the years of wrestling with my losses, I have come to believe that in order to fully let go and move on, I must first acknowledge my grief, then dance openly with it, then bless it and allow it to move out of my heart. Easy? Heck no. Necessary? I think so.

There are so many items we hold dear that represent what we wanted, and what we’ve lost. What is it for you? A family heirloom, hand-me-down baby clothes, the baseball glove/dance shoes/board games saved from your own childhood? Are you ready to open up your hope chest, pull out your treasures, and perhaps let them go? A perfectly fine answer is “No.” But when the time comes that you are ready, know that many of us here at Life Without Baby have been through the process, and we came out intact.

Good luck. And please be gentle with yourself.

Whiny Wednesday: Gifts for Other People’s Children

I just returned from the mall where I shopped for graduation gifts for the children of friends. I don’t begrudge the money or even the feelings of obligation, but buying gifts for other people’s children still stirs up some tough emotions. So, it’s the topic of this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Buying gifts for other people’s children

Whine away, ladies, and feel free to chime in with anything else that’s setting you off today.

Our Stories: Anita

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Anita has known for about 10 years that she’ll not have children. Now 42, she hesitates to describe her dream of motherhood because it isn’t something she allows herself to think about. “To much scratching on this wound can cause it to bleed again,” she says.

But she’s well aware that there are triggers all around us that scratch and wound, and she addresses some of them in her answer to “What’s the hardest part for you about now having children?”

I certainly can relate to what she’s saying, and I sense you will too. After you’ve read her story, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the Comments.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Anita: I dreamed about nurturing and raising a child of my own, sharing her life, watching her grow.

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

Anita: Circumstance. My husband had been previously married, and they had a son. Before we married we discussed the “having a baby” question, and we both wanted children. A few years into our marriage, my husband decided against having children.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Anita: Acceptance, and depressed. I am not really sure that one can ever really overcome this. I think this is, like the death of a parent, something you learn to live with.

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

Anita: In short, it feels as if being without a child has robbed me of interaction with other women. I am forever lurking on the fringes. I’m not a man, but not a “real” woman either. [Following are some of the situations she finds especially difficult.]

  • Stork teas/baby showers. At work, every now and then, we have a stork tea. In the beginning, I went (because it is expected of women). It was terrible. It felt as if I was going to break apart. Everyone was having fun, but I felt like running away and weeping in my office. I felt as if I was a freak. On the one hand, you have the mothers giving advice to the pregnant woman, talking about pregnancy, birth, and caring for your baby, with little personal stories to illustrate points. Scary things, good things, funny things. On the other hand, you have the young women still able to have children. And I fitted in neither of these groups. I still buy the gift, but I arrange for someone else to take it to the stork tea.
  • The same can be said for gatherings everywhere. The men stand around the fire, and the women sit around discussing their children.
  • Going to a “Womanhood” lecture at our church. The conversations during tea time included “Oh, I already have one child, but I am hoping for another one” and “A woman’s purpose is to have children”. I found myself surrounded by women with many children in tow, with toddlers running around. I excused myself and walked to another room, trying to control my emotions, my despair.
  • Seeing pregnant woman everywhere.
  • Colleagues coming to show their babies after maternity leave.
  • Knowing that you are the last of your family, a biological dead end. There is no one to whom I can pass down my grandfather’s bayonet that he had fought with in the war. No one to pass my mother’s keepsakes. All my keepsakes sold to a secondhand dealer, or chucked away as rubbish. No one to tell the story of our family to. The long line of my family will be snuffed out, and it will be as if I had never existed.

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

Anita: “No.” Sure, I have a stepson, but he already has a mom. For a while I hoped that I could be his “other” mom, but it wasn’t to be.

LWB: What is the best part about not having children?

Anita: Listening to our neighbor’s child scream seemingly for hours every night, and feeling thankful that it is not our child.

 

Won’t you share your story with us? The act of answering the questions itself can be very healing, plus we’d like to support you by telling you “You are not alone.” Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childlessness.