filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
This post was originally published in 2013 and it still makes me livid. You can see the original post and comments here.
Overheard outside my local café last week:
“I have three kids and I hate all of them.”
Can someone please explain to me why this jack@$$ gets to have the privilege of being a parent when so many lovely people I know (including myself) don’t?
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s got you spitting nails this week?
By Lisa Manterfield
Courtesy Hasbro Games
In my weekly writer’s group, we start off with an exercise from a choice of prompts. When I saw “I’m tired of pretending my life isn’t perfect”, I almost took the prompt.
It’s not hard to write about the part of my life that is so obviously imperfect: the fact that I wasn’t able to have children. I could (and do) write about that broken bit. But if I took my life apart, I’d find lots of areas that aren’t perfect. Isn’t every life like that? Everyone has challenges, and life would probably be dull without them. But part of the thrill of living is overcoming life’s challenges. Without the obstacles there’s no glory of victory.
My life is flawed in many ways, as all lives are, but it’s also a good and happy life, and on the whole it’s pretty close to perfect. And it’s hard work to keep clinging to the idea that it isn’t. It’s tiring to keep feeling bad about the parts of my life that didn’t work out as planned.
I didn’t get to have children, and it’s true that, for a long period of time, it made my life feel empty and deeply flawed. But that changed over time. I worked to overcome that flaw, to seek and take advantage of the silver linings, to work through my sadness—by writing, in my case—by gathering this community and sharing our stories. My marriage made it through infertility. That’s a victory in itself. And while there are still many challenges in my life, few of them are related to my childlessness anymore.
So, yes, I am a flawed human, with challenges to face, but I no longer wish to pretend my life isn’t perfect, just as it is, warts and all.
If you’re in the mood to do some writing of your own, pull out your journal and take the prompt: I’m tired of pretending my life isn’t perfect.
(And by the way, I didn’t take the prompt because there was another that sparked an idea. I’m glad I took that one instead, because that exercise turned into short story that was published here.)
In the six years since I started this site, I don’t think I’ve ever done a book review for a novel. I’ve been reluctant to read any books covering the topic of infertility because I feared they might trigger some deep-seated emotions and undo all the work I’ve done. I’ve been especially reluctant to read fiction as I’ve always been afraid of the inevitable happy ending.
But recently I’ve had several requests to review novels on the topic of infertility, so I decided it was time to take the plunge. I know many of you are avid readers, so I hope you’ll enjoy the upcoming reviews.
In her debut novel, The End of Miracles (She Writes Press, 2016), author Monica Starkman, M.D., delves into her extensive professional research to explore the emotional devastation of miscarriage and stillbirth.
After fruitless years battling infertility, Margo Kerber is devastated when her seemingly miraculous pregnancy ends in a late-term miscarriage. Convinced she is pregnant again, Margo finds temporary relief from her grief. But when her fantasy clashes with reality and Margo’s pregnancy is discovered to be false, she slips into a deep depression that clouds both her grasp of reality and her judgment. When she spots a briefly unattended infant, she is compelled to commit an unthinkable crime.
From the opening of the book, I felt as if I were in the hands of someone writing with authority about the psychological aspects of infertility and how numbing grief can be. I found myself recognizing many of the “crazy” thoughts I had on my own journey, which Starkman courageously commits to paper.
I asked Starkman about her work in psychology and about her decision to tell this story:
Life Without Baby: What prompted you to write this book?
Monica Starkman: I had wanted to write a novel for a long time, in part to give something back to the world of literature as thanks for all the joy I’ve gained from reading. Nothing had piqued my interest enough to make the effort until I was asked to consult on and treat two women with false pregnancies. I realized that here was a topic: the strong desire and need to be pregnant, and the powerful repercussions of the frustration of that desire. That was intriguing and important enough for me to devote the time and determination that writing a novel required.
LWB: In your work as a psychiatrist, have you seen changes in the level of understanding about the emotional impact of infertility and unexpected childlessness?
MS: I can’t say that I have. I think that for even the woman/couple affected, the intensity of the emotions elicited by infertility and miscarriage still come as a complete surprise. And those not so affected are just beginning to realize this as well. For this reason, I recently wrote articles for MariaShriver.com and for PsychologyToday.com about miscarriage, false pregnancy, and infertility. I hope The End of Miracles will also bring such understanding to its readers.
LWB: In the book, Margo’s psychiatrist discusses the mind-body connection as regards to reproductive health. Could you talk a little more about this?
MS: Stress affects the brain, which can then affect the body by changing hormone levels and immune function, which can also impact reproductive function. However, for the survival of the species, Mother Nature protects reproduction as much as possible to withstand these effects. The mind-body relationship is bidirectional: the body also affects the mind. And as those affected with infertility know all too well, its negative effects on mental well-being are quite powerful.
LWB: As a writer and psychiatrist, you’re involved with both the sharing and receiving of stories. Why do you feel it’s important for us to share our stories?
MS: Being able to express strong feelings, by talking or writing about them, does help process them, relieves some of the internal pressure, and helps to come to terms with and master those feelings. Sharing stories helps others better understand how those affected feel and encourages compassion. In return, social support from empathetic others is a very important contributing factor on the path to healing.
LWB: What else do you hope to achieve with The End of Miracles?
MS: I want to give readers an accurate insider’s portrayal of psychiatry and psychiatrists. I hope to promote the idea that people with severe psychiatric illnesses, such as serious depression, aren’t so very different from the rest of us, and that despite their unraveling, there can be a path for healing.
Monica Starkman, M.D., is associate professor of psychiatry emerita and scientific researcher at the University of Michigan Medical School’s Department of Psychiatry. As a recognized expert on the effects of stress hormones on mood and brain structure, Monica has been published by dozens of academic journals and several news outlets including The New Republic, Vogue and MariaShriver.com.
By Lisa Manterfield
Let’s just say it: Mother’s Day is the nuclear bomb of holidays when you don’t have children. It’s a day of brunches, church services, and flowers, when shops, offices, restaurants, and even our social media feeds are filled with celebrations of moms and all things motherhood. To top it all, this holiday has somehow escaped the political correctness cleanup that other holidays have undergone, so while many people are hesitant these days to wish someone a Merry Christmas, lest they offend, no one seems to have any qualms about wishing everyone a Happy Mother’s Day.
It took me a long time to be able to face Mother’s Day, but the last couple of years I’ve done something fun for myself on that weekend. A couple of years ago I planned a trapeze class and this year I’m running a half marathon at Disneyland. Each year, I’m able to note that the day bothers me less and less, and I use it to mark my own progress. I know that many of you aren’t there yet, and from past experience I know that it pays to face the day prepared.
If you plan to venture out over Mother’s Day weekend, be ready for almost everyone to wish you a happy Mother’s Day. This includes friends, neighbors, sales assistants, parking attendants, and even complete strangers. Prepare your arsenal of stock replies and be ready to respond, so you don’t find yourself caught unawares and having to explain why you’re standing in the middle of the street in tears, yelling “It’s not a happy day at all!” to an unsuspecting stranger. My standard response is to say “Thank you. You too” and move on as quickly as possible.
Once you’re aware of the inevitable challenges the day can bring, it’s good to make a plan to keep yourself protected. If you know you’re not going to be able to make it through the day with your emotions intact, stay at home or make plans to go somewhere away from the biggest challenge spots. If you’re expected to attend a big family gathering, consider if you could take a pass, just this year. Even if the next Mother’s Day is months from now, take a few minutes to jot down the challenges you might face and come up with a plan. How will you spend the day? How will you honor your own mother? And how will you deal with the challenges you can’t avoid?
By Lisa Manterfield
I never knew how lonely dealing with infertility would be. Even though I was recently married to a man I loved, worked with a group of people I considered friends, and had an active social life, I felt as as if I was dealing with infertility completely alone.
I found it hard to talk about what I was going through, even with my closest friends. I was angry and confused. I struggled to find the right questions to ask my doctors, let alone try to explain what was happening to me to someone who’d never experienced it. I felt so vulnerable and not at all in control of any aspect of my life, especially my emotions. I was afraid if I ever did open up to a friend, I might unleash a maelstrom of anger and grief. So, I put on a brave face and did my best to act as if everything was okay. The more I needed the comfort and support of an understanding friend, the more I pulled into myself and away from any risk of intimacy.
Eventually, of course, my grief found a small crack and pushed its way out. And once it had found a weak spot in my armor, it tore it open in the form of a humiliating public meltdown. Fortunately, a friend witnessed this and, as I no longer had anything to hide, it opened up a conversation between us. At last, I was able to talk frankly about the details of my experience and the fears, frustrations, and sadness that came along with it. Once I’d broken open, I wished I’d done it sooner.
This week is National Infertility Awareness Week (#NIAW) and this year’s theme is #StartAsking. So I want to encourage you to start asking for help, to find someone to confide in, and to stop trying to battle through this alone.
I know that most of us would rather walk over hot coals than ask for help. Better to have scorched and blistered feet than to permit vulnerability and open ourselves up to pity, or ignorance, or worst of all…unsolicited advice! But having just one understanding person you can trust can make an enormous difference.
Before you go seeking an empathetic ear, it’s important to understand yourself and what kind of help you really want. Do you need someone who’ll sit and listen while you talk and talk and talk? Do you need someone with whom you can share intimate details of procedures and tests? Do you need to confide one single detail that you’ve never told anyone else? Do you need someone who’ll hug you while you cry your eyes out, or someone who’ll join you for a quiet walk to talk about absolutely any other topic but infertility?
The Life Without Baby book has an entire chapter dedicated to finding support, and one exercise that people find helpful is to write a letter to an imaginary ideal friend, telling her exactly what you’d like from her. Tell her the kind of scenario you envision where you feel comfortable opening up, and then detail the response you’d like from her. Include as many specifics as you can. If you absolutely don’t want to hear a miracle baby story or advice like “Have you considered donor eggs/adoption/squirrel toenail tea?” write that down. If you need her to simply listen and say “I’m so sorry you’re going through this”, tell her. Once you know what you need in terms of support, then you can start to find the person to ask for it.
If you’re like me, you probably have people in your life who each bring a different strength to your relationship. In my case, Friend A gives sisterly advice; B asks difficult, but thought-provoking questions and doesn’t flinch at honest responses; C will listen quietly and give a thoughtful response, and D will burst into tears, hug me, and lament how terrible things must be for me (which can sometimes be exactly what I need.) Who among your friends, family, and even acquaintances could offer the kind of support you need? Keep in mind that our dearest friends and family members are oftentimes too invested in our happiness to be able to offer the support we need. You might find that a trusted colleague, a more distant relative, or even a less intimate contact, such as hairdresser or religious counsellor, might be the perfect person to talk to. And if you truly can’t find anyone, please consider seeking professional help.
As hard as it is to open yourself up to talking about this, it’s even harder to struggle along alone, so please, please, please, start asking for help.
#NIAW #StartAsking
Most people in my life were supportive when I told them about my decision to end my quest for motherhood. But a couple didn’t want me to quit. They kept offering unsolicited advice and stories of other people’s miracles, when what I really needed from them was a kind and understanding word.
So this week’s whine topic is:
People who won’t let you quit
Happy whining!
By Lisa Manterfield
Jody Day – Credit: Simon Fairclough
Early in her new book, Living the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Future Without Children, Jody Day writes, “Having children is not a free pass to a happy life. If we look at the lives of mothers without envy and listen them without prejudice, we know this to be true. They suffer too and sometimes their children are the very source of that suffering.” It’s a refreshing point of view.
Reading through Jody’s book, is like sitting down with that one friend you can always trust to speak frankly. What comes across in her words is an understanding that, yes, this hurts…a lot, and yes, all the feelings of anger, sadness, and hopelessness are real and normal, but you cannot allow this experience to take over your entire life for the rest of your life. And while Jody offers plenty of gentle support and practical exercises to work through the hard stuff, I walked away with an overall feeling of empowerment.
Jody opens the book with a Plan B Healing Inventory, a list of questions about your current state of mind, such as “How often do you blame others for your situation?” and “How often do do you really laugh?” These questions help get a sense of where you are now, but are also a means to measure your progress. Often improvement is incremental and you don’t realize how far you’ve come until you hit a big milestone, such as being around children or making a big plan for your future. It’s very helpful to take this kind of inventory to remind yourself, especially on the tough days, how far you’ve come.
In this new and expanded edition of her earlier book (previously titled: Rocking the Life Unexpected) Jody includes case studies of eight women who’ve found themselves unexpectedly childless for a broad range of reasons. As we know from the stories shared on this site, hearing from someone who’s walked a similar path to you can be a powerful tool in the healing journey.
Throughout this book, Jody is a beacon, showing you the way to move forward and build the life you want. Much of what she encourages is about changing your shifting your perspective from what’s lost to what is. She talks about “liberating yourself from the opinions of others” and letting go of some of the assumptions we’ve been fed about the wonders of motherhood.
I had a few questions for Jody about her work. Here’s what she had to say:
Life Without Baby: In this new edition of the book, you’ve added case studies. What have you learned about the power of both telling your story and of hearing the stories of others?
Jody Day: When I started the Gateway Women blog in 2011, it was the beginning of me sharing my story with others. That first woman who wrote a comment saying “me too” was a moment that will stay with me forever. Knowing that I was not alone in struggling with my childlessness was extremely validating – finally! Over time, as I started to meet other childless women in person, I realised too that the ‘story’ society tells of us – that we are broken, damaged, pathetic weirdoes – began to seem more and more ridiculous! And with each ‘other’ woman I realised that about, I also let go of a bit more of my own subconscious beliefs that my childlessness meant I was defective in some way. I now understand why sharing our stories is one of the oldest form of healing and I wanted to find a way for readers of the new edition to have an experience of that.
LWB: A real sense of resilience comes through in your writing. In several sections it’s clear you have an attitude of not rolling over and letting this take over your life. I’m guessing that attitude was hard-won. Can you talk about what changed for you?
JD: Recovering from childlessness is the hardest thing I’ve ever done – and I hadn’t had an easy ride before that so I wasn’t new to coping with incredibly hard things – my resilience comes from coping with an unstable childhood, chronic illnesses, living with mental illness and addiction within my family, as well as losing my marriage to my husband’s addiction issues. Yet I’d been able to learn from all of these difficulties and pick myself up again. But childlessness? No.
There was a period during the worst of it when I really didn’t know if I had the strength to carry on with the rest of my life feeling this awful. But I didn’t know it was grief. Once I found out it was, it was the missing piece of the puzzle as to why this loss, this trauma, was so much harder than the others. To this day, I still cannot believe how none of the therapeutic and medical professionals I consulted mentioned that I might be grieving… the grief of childlessness is still so little understood by those who haven’t experienced it. I feel so grateful that as part of my training to be a psychotherapist we looked at bereavement and I had that ‘aha’ moment that grief was what I was dealing with.
LWB: Your discussion about a “shadow life” really struck a chord with me. Can you share what you mean and how you finally recognized that in yourself?
JD: It was one of the very first things I realised, on the day that I accepted (cognitively!) that I would never be a mother, because I had an extraordinary experience of feeling in my body the two versions of myself – my real life and my shadow life – and feeling them merge. It was a powerful energetic experience. I guess my ‘shadow mother’ went ‘pouf’ in that moment and I realised that for the last 15 years I’d been spending a lot of my life in la-la land, psychologically ‘nesting’, long after it was wise or healthy or helpful… I guess it’s probably a very natural part of planning to start a family – thinking all of the aspects of your life through in terms of how to organise it best for the coming child – but because I carried on hoping/fantasizing long after it would have been logical to have given up, my shadow mother became a rather toxic fantasy that stopped me facing reality. Once she was gone, grief came roaring in, so it was definitely being fuelled by denial.
Jody Day is a British author, social entrepreneur, trainee integrative psychotherapist and the founder of Gateway Women, the global friendship and support network for childless women. Learn more at: Gateway-Women.com
Information on where to purchase Living the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Future Without Children, click here.
By Lisa Manterfield
A couple of years ago, a favorite local restaurant closed its doors, not because business was bad, but because the owner decided to reimagine the concept to make it more family friendly. My sweet little French bistro is no more.
What make this change particularly painful (and ironic) is that this gem, with its Parisian-style sidewalk patio, is where I sat when I wrote the first post for Life Without Baby.
One Friday afternoon, more than six years ago now, I took my laptop, snagged a table in the sun, ordered myself a glass of champagne and a half-dozen oysters and began documenting my life without the children I’d dreamed of. Since then, Kathleen and I have celebrated completing drafts of our books there (see photo) and, one evening, I met with one of my earliest readers of the blog to share a glass of wine and stories of our journeys. So, this place holds a special place in my heart.
Aside from the sentimental loss, the restaurant was also one of the few quiet adult places to eat in that area. Along with one or two other holdouts, it’s surrounded by family pizza joints and family burger bars. And now it’s going to be another family-focused restaurant—an “eatery” instead of a “bistro.”
The owner told the local paper that the new place “will cater to a larger segment of the population” and that he plans to “make it more of a place where everyone feels they belong.”
I found it ironic that this longtime patron, who once felt so at home there that she chose it as the place to write about not have children, would no longer feel she belonged.
It’s been over a year now since the owner first made his announcement, and the restaurant is still standing empty. Perhaps the owner’s assumptions about “everyone” was wrong after all. Still, it gives me little comfort. I still long for the favorite spot where I used to belong.
I’m back from my blog tour and what a wild couple of weeks it’s been, despite rarely leaving my desk!
Even though it was a lot of work to coordinate the tour and write ten posts (!) it was so worth it. I got to chat by email and skype with some of my favorite bloggers, in some cases women I’ve never spoken to beyond the comments section here. We got to know one another on a more personal level and marveled at how far we’ve each come in making peace with our childlessness. I felt, more than ever, a real sense of community and of having a sisterhood of women who completely understand me.
I also got to interact with some of you in a different space, on someone else’s blog. Seeing you there felt like arriving at a foreign airport and seeing a friend waiting with a bunch of flowers. Thank you to everyone who made the tour with me.
If you missed the tour bus, here is a round-up of my travels and all the blogs I visited. I hope you’ll take a little time and hop over to support these wonderful and generous bloggers.
Michelle Marie McGrath’s Unclassified Woman, where we talked about legacy and the myths surrounding childlessness
Loribeth’s The Road Less Travelled, on the topic of embracing possibility
Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos at Silent Sorority, where I answered questions about how far we’ve come
Catherine-Emmanuelle Delisle at Femmes Sans Enfant shared a video of a live story performance I did at Expressing Motherhood a couple of years ago
Justine Brooks Froelker of Ever Upward had questions about what prompted me to write a new Life Without Baby book
Lesley Pyne, on the subject of knowing when it’s time to let go of the dream of motherhood
Sue Fagalde Lick at Childless-by-Marriage, where I wrote about aging without children
Mali at No Kidding in NZ, on the topic of claiming your right to grieve
At French-language site, Bamp.fr, I talked about the benefits of writing through infertility and loss
I’ve also received some great early reviews for the book Here are a couple of snippets:
“As soon as I started reading ‘surviving & thriving… ‘ I felt that Lisa was right there with me, leading me gently by the hand and giving me permission to feel anything. She acknowledges how messy it will be, gives practical ways to get through, and lots of assurance that it will get better. For me, the grief section is particularly helpful; it’s the first time I’ve seen childless grief described in such an empathic and compassionate way.” ~Lesley Pyne, Coach
“I wish Manterfield’s book had been available a decade ago. It would have been a valuable lifeline, a tremendous support at a time there was nothing available for women lost in a maze of fertility treatment promises and murky what ifs, uncertain about how to find balance and a path forward.” ~ Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos, author of Silent Sorority
“Page by page, Lisa holds your hand with gentle, unflinching support, openly sharing her story with you, and giving you permission, guidance, and gentle queries that help in your journey of healing. I only wish that when people called their reproductive endocrinologist’s office to tell them that they were “drawing a line in the sand” that the doctor was honor bound by the Hippocratic oath to send their patients a copy of this wonderful guidebook.” Tracey Cleantis, author of The Next Happy
I am extremely appreciative of these kind and generous words. If you’ve ever bought a book online, you’ll know how influential good reviews can be. If you do happen to pick up a copy of Life Without Baby and find it helpful, I would be thrilled if you’d consider posting a review on Amazon. Goodreads, or other bookseller sites. It would mean a lot to me.
So, now I’m back, normal programming will resume. There’ll be a Whiny Wednesday post this week and Kathleen will be back on Friday with her It Got Me Thinking…column.
Dealing with grief is a topic I find myself talking about again and again. It’s one of the most overlooked and misunderstood aspects of coming to terms with a life without children. It’s such a critical part of healing that I devoted four entire chapters to it in my new book.
Today, I’m paying a virtual visit to Mali at No Kidding in NZ to talk about this topic of giving ourselves permission to grieve in our own way. Mali has been a long time supporter of Life Without Baby and you’ve no doubt already met her in the comments section.
During our e-mail exchanges, we talked about the grieving process and how our experiences have made us more compassionate to other people who have suffered losses. I suppose it’s one of the silver linings to this story.
You can find my post on Mali’s blog today (which is really tomorrow in New Zealand). Please drop in and say hi to her. I know she’d love to hear from you on her turf, so to speak.
~ "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."
