filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
I had to take a break from the news and social media recently. It just seemed as if nothing good was happening in the world. Amid all the terror attacks, politics, tragedies, and deadly diseases was story after story that prompted this week’s topic:
People who shouldn’t be allowed to have kids
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s making you furious this week?
By Lisa Manterfield
In the very early stages of our relationship. Mr. Fab and I discovered all sorts of odd things we had in common, one of which is that we both played the trombone as teenagers. Anyway, we’ve been talking about learning to play again, and we finally found a used instrument in good condition.
The main difference between a trombone and other brass instruments is that you make the notes by moving a slide up and down, rather hitting a key. It makes it a lot more difficult to hit just the right note. It’s also what makes the trombone so much fun to play, because you can slide easily from note to note, up and down and back again.
The reason I’m telling you all this is that today I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole coming-to-terms process. I’ve been thinking about it in terms of school grades, with the freshman class having just made the decision to live childfree or to stop fertility treatments, and having no idea how to start getting used to the idea. They eventually graduate to acceptance and begin to find a way to get happy, and ultimately go on to live a full and happy life without children.
But it’s really not that simple. You never really do hit all the notes precisely and in order. It’s much more like playing a trombone, where you slide from one state to the next and sometimes back again. One day, you’re content and determined to make the most of your situation, then something happens to trigger all those old emotions and you find yourself sliding back down. Then you get to talk someone who understands you and you feel like you can really figure this out…until your friend announces a pregnancy and back down you go again.
So, I’m wondering, where are you on the sliding scale of coming-to-terms? Where are you right now and have you been better or been worse? Do you feel that, even though you have setbacks, you’re slowly moving towards a place of peace, or can you see no way to ever come-to-terms with your lot in life? Or have you already been up and down the scale and have finally found a place of contentment? I’d like to know.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. Hurray!
This week’s topic needs no introduction, so I’m just going to post it:
Whine away!
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 doit 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?
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Just 43, Noël* has entered pre-menopause and is “finding that my days are so hard to deal with lately”. I hear that! It’s not enough that we’re dealing with the grief of losing our dreams, we also get to face the challenges of our bodies going through The Change. Where’s the good news?
Noël has found some inspiration in the form of a personal chero (a hero who happens to be childfree), a friend from high school who made her own choice to not have children. “She is a career person and does her job very well,” Noël says. “She wants the freedom, and she never looked back.”
Here’s more of Noël’s story. I hope you’ll find some encouragement here and start thinking about who your personal cheros might be and how they might inspire you.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood?
Noël: I ran out of time. I didn’t want to be a single parent, and my husband didn’t want any more children. I made a choice not to have any.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Noël: I’m angry at times, and it’s depressing to see nieces around me popping out kids. It’s hard to be around them, and I don’t ever want to take care of anyone else’s kids!
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Noël: When I got married for the first time at 40, I realized that I had to make a choice. My husband, who already has two, didn’t want any more kids.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Noël: My last conversation with my mother before her unexpected death was when I was engaged. She asked if I was going to have any children, and I told her no. She wished for a “mini” me of myself, and it still hurts to think about that conversation. I see my sisters with their grown kids and know I will never have that bond. I will always be the “aunt”, and no one ever calls the aunt unless they need something.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Noël: Freedom to do whatever I want. Travel! That’s a plus!
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Noël: Being extremely good at what I do and saving for my future. I have also thought about volunteering in other countries for children who are less fortunate.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
Noël: “Do you really want to reproduce your family history?” LOL! I have some bad seeds among my brothers, and I always think about that. You never know what you’re going to pop out, eh?
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Noël: I don’t need children to help me feel complete and happy. I’m already happy.
*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name to conceal her identity, if she chooses.
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.
If you’re new to the site, you might wondering what Whiny Wednesday is all about.
A few years ago, some readers commented that they couldn’t express how they felt around friends and colleagues, as they were always made to feel as if they were whining. So, we created Whiny Wednesday as a place to complain and grumble about whatever’s on your mind each week. It can be an issue surrounding living without children, or just a general grumble about life, work, family, the world.
I used to start each post with a gripe of my own, but lately I’ve found I’ve covered most of what bothers me, so I put out a call for Whiny Wednesday topics, and you, dear readers, came through! So, each week, I offer one of your suggested topics as a starting point, but as always, any topic is fair game.
So, let’s kick off with this week’s topic:
Parents who complain and complain then ask “Do you want my kids?”
Happy whining!
This week’s topic is another tender subject:
The constant struggle of feeling my life is imperfect because of not having children.
How do you feel about this? Has that feeling changed with the passing of time?
As always, the floor is open for any other whines and rants you need to get off your chest.
By Lisa Manterfield
Since we humans first began gathering into social and familial groups, we’ve used stories to create a sense of community. Early hunter-gatherers shared tales to pass along information, traditions, and important lessons.
In this fascinating Life Science article, Campfire Tales Served as Early Human Social Media, researchers noticed a big difference between daytime and nighttime campfire stories told among a tribe of Kalahari Bushmen. While the daytime conversations were made up of only 6 percent stories, the rest being complaints, gossip, hunting plans, and jokes, once the tribe gathered around the nighttime campfires, 81 percent of conversations were stories.
The stories passed along information about tribal customs and ceremonies, as well as warnings of dangers, such as the story of three bushmen killed in a fire. The tribe also used stories to pass information to younger generations.
Even today, we find our way around in the world and understand who we are through handed down stories. I heard stories about my aunt who emigrated to Australia by boat in the 1940s, which helped me understand why I seemed to be the only person in my family to move far from home. I recently learned that my habit of dragging my husband on long, under-prepared hikes comes not from my dad, as I’d always believed, but from my mum, who had the same habit.
As a child, I learned about the dangers of electrocution, of hot cooking oil, of crossing the street, not from formal lessons, but from stories told by others. More recently, my social media feed has bombarded me with a million things to worry about, everything from terrorist attacks to falling off a cliff while playing Pokémon Go.
From this community, I’ve learned from other people’s stories that I was not alone in my experiences, and gained ideas about how to cope with challenges. And writing my own story has helped me to understand myself too, to give perspective to experiences I didn’t fully understand as they we happening.
As you think about the stories you might tell, what important wisdom would you pass along if you had the chance to sit around the campfire with your younger self?
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your opportunity to rant on a theme.
This week’s topic has been brought up by several readers:
Feeling that you’re expected to carry a disproportionate responsibility for the care of aging parents because you don’t have children to worry about.
Feel free to add your own whines, too.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Rosie suffered a miscarriage early in her current relationship, which prompted her partner to reveal he didn’t want any more children other than the daughter he already has. However, he also said he “might” be willing to have a child with her, if that’s what she really wanted. For Rosie, it’s a difficult moral and ethical dilemma, and she would “hate to have to choose between him and motherhood.”
Meanwhile, at 32, she’s noticing “time ticking on,” and it’s becoming more and more painful to her to acknowledge she may never have children on her own.
Should she stay with the partner she loves, or choose a chance at motherhood over him? Here’s her story, one that reveals a different reason why some people end up childfree.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Rosie: I’m childfree by circumstance. After I was devastated by the end of my first long-term relationship, some lousy dates, and a couple of disastrous, short-term relationships, I finally met my current partner. He’s older than I am and has a child from a previous relationship. A contraceptive failure meant that I accidentally fell pregnant within the first year of our relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but my boyfriend was supportive. Then I miscarried at 11 weeks. It was really tough, emotionally and physically. My partner and I had some heart-to-heart discussions, and it came to light that he would prefer not to have any more children. I’m just not sure I could push for us to have kids when it’s not something he really wants. It could lead to resentment or a breakdown in the relationship—and I love my partner.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Rosie: I honestly don’t know. Most of the time I feel like I’m perfectly content with my partner and the life we have. My relationship with my young stepdaughter is great, and I value the bond we have. But I’m not her mother, and I’m reminded of this at various junctures during the time we spend together. For example, when she falls and grazes her knee, it’s her daddy she seeks for comfort. Sometimes, when I have a meeting at work with someone who’s heavily pregnant, or I hear a colleague talk about her child starting school, I feel sad about the child we lost and I feel like I can’t cope with being childless for another second. I’m still considering what to do and how to move forward. Should I stay in a relationship with the man I love, who may or may not want children (and risk never being a parent), or should I move on…but to what?
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Rosie: The feeling that there is so much love in my heart ready for a child, but that this may never be realized. The sense that there’s a whole other world of love, joy, and wonder that I cannot be a part of. That my life hasn’t fully “started” properly yet, because I don’t have children. Dealing with insensitive (and sometimes ridiculous) comments from friends, family members, and colleagues about my childless status (such as “It’ll be your turn next!” “If you want a baby, just stop using birth control and don’t tell your partner.”).
LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?
Rosie: That there are numerous reasons why some people don’t have children, that it’s not just a case of “didn’t want/couldn’t have.” The reasons why people are childfree are unique to each individual and should be treated with compassion and sensitivity. Sometimes I might wish to finish work early, or not always be the one to work the holiday shifts, even though I don’t have children. I may not understand what it is to be a mother, but I do understand what it is to experience love, pain, tiredness, illness. I know what it is to be a part of a family, struggle with work/life balance, and make ends meet. I may not have children, but I still would like to be regarded as a human being of worth and be valued equally as those with children.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Rosie: Before I found LWB, I felt so alone with my feelings. These aren’t the sort of thoughts and feelings I can share with friends, colleagues, or family (most of whom have children), as they just don’t really seem to “get” where I’m coming from. Finding LWB has been a really enlightening and positive experience.
Rosie mentioned in her cover letter what a healing experience it was to write and share her story. I hope you’ll share your story with us. Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
If you’re not quite ready for this step, I encourage you to check out the Community Forums and other Our Stories, where you will find support from LWB readers who have traveled paths similar to yours.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
~ "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."
