Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen

By Lisa Manterfield

Lisa _Book1I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I first acknowledged that motherhood would not be part of my future. The idea started as a knot in the pit of my stomach, a fleeting thought of “What if this doesn’t happen for me?” It put out little tendrils of doubt that manifested in sadness and frustration that I couldn’t get this thing I wanted so much. But even as doctors shook their heads and test results showed over and over again that I could not conceive, the idea that I would never be a mother was unimaginable, and the possibility that it might not happen was drowned out by hope and my blind determination that, if I just kept trying, it would all work out in the end.

But it wasn’t naïve denial that kept me pursuing my dream of motherhood. It was the completely blank canvas of the unknown that lay beyond if I made the decision to give up. I had no idea what the future would hold for me, and it was easier to stay in that awful place of painful possibility than to cut my losses and step into an uncertain future. Despite being surrounded by loving friends and family, I felt completely lost and alone, carrying around with me a deep grief that had no outlet. I’d never met anyone like me before, and I didn’t know where to turn for help or even what kind of help I might need. I didn’t even realize I needed help. I just pushed along on my own, taking it one day at a time, and trying to figure out how I was ever going to make peace with the enormous loss I felt. I honestly wasn’t sure I ever would.

Book_CoverIt was a long process that didn’t come with a roadmap. There were no books to guide me through the process and no one to help me understand the sadness and confusion of losing something that I’d never had in the first place. I wrote about what I was going through, first in a journal, then as exercises in a writer’s workshop, which became chapters of a memoir. When I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood was published in 2010, I felt as if I was laying out all my shortcomings for the world to see—assuming anyone would actually read it. But a funny thing happened: As I began to write publicly, in the book and on this blog, I found you, a community of women—each with her own unique story—all struggling with the same issues and trying to find acceptance in the life you’d been dealt. For the first time, I felt as if I wasn’t stumbling through this alone.

Some you are like me and have dealt with infertility and never been pregnant, while others have suffered miscarriages or delivered stillborn babies. Some of you have dealt with health issues that forced you into a decision not to pursue motherhood, and others are dusting yourselves off after the blow of a failed adoption. Some of you have watched your dreams of motherhood dashed as the search for the right mate kept turning up the wrong man. Others have found yourselves facing divorce or the death of a spouse, or a partner who had a change of heart about parenthood. Each of you has your own story about how you came to find yourself watching the window of opportunity for motherhood slowly close—and yet we all share so many common issues. What I’ve discovered through you is that, when I wrote openly about the tangled emotions and “crazy” thoughts I’ve had, you keep responding with “Me too.”

I realize how important it is to walk this path with others who’ve been there and how sharing my story helps me to feel normal again. I’ve learned a lot from my own experience and from your comments on this site. I’ve come to understand the importance of grieving something that never existed, even if my immediate family and closest friends couldn’t fully understand my loss. I’ve learned the value of a compassionate community and the power of knowing I am not alone. I’ve also learned to look forward toward a future I hadn’t planned and to find joy and passion in my life again. I’ve learned not just how to survive, but how to thrive in a life without children.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been collecting all that I’ve learned into a book. I’ve released sections in the Life Without Baby Workbook series and now (drumroll, please!) the complete book is finally finished!

It’s called Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen, and it’s available March 7 in both print and digital formats. (You can pre-order the ebook version here if you want to be among the first to get a copy.)

So before I get too wrapped up in all that’s involved with publishing and promoting a book, I wanted to say a big thank you to all of you—for your ongoing support, for teaching so much about myself, and for taking such good care of one another. I am truly honored to be part of this community.

Our Stories: Ani

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our Stories“Since none of my sisters or my mom had troubles getting pregnant (well into their 30s),” Ani* wrote, “I had no worries about waiting until after my 30th birthday to start thinking about babies.” As many of us can imagine, she was devastated and wholly unprepared when she then suffered two miscarriages.

Today, Ani and her husband are trying to come to terms with being a family of two. That journey includes some days of feeling anxious, bitter, and depressed, and others days hoping they can make peace with their childfree life.

At the end of her story, she shares her hopes for the new year. I hope you’ll jump on the Comments to offer Ani some encouraging words and share with all of us what you’re hoping for in 2016.

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Ani: I’ve always loved kids. I am exceptionally close to my niece and nephew (who live in the same town as me), and I adore my other three nephews. I have always just assumed I would be a mom.

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

Ani: Circumstance. We have been trying to conceive/not preventing since October 2013. In December 2013 we got pregnant the first time, which ended in heartbreak when I miscarried in January 2014. December 2014, almost exactly a year after our first BFP [“big fat positive” pregnancy test], we got our second. I was super-cautious about getting excited too quickly, and was proven horribly right when I suffered another miscarriage in January 2015. We’ve been checked out, and seemingly things are physically alright with me, except for being overweight. My husband has very bad sperm morphology.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Ani: I would say I am still in the depression state of mind. Pregnancies give me anxiety and make me feel so bitter toward even my greatest friends. I am fine with babies and older kids, but seeing a pregnant belly or positive pregnancy test or a sonogram picture can send me into hysterics.

I want to accept my childlessness, and my wonderful husband assures me constantly that we, as a couple, are enough. But I feel like I’ve ruined his life and chance at being a father, and I fear that he will one day resent me for not being able to carry a child for him.

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

Ani: People treat you as “less than” when you don’t have kids. You will also never know what being tired or sick or upset feels like, because those feelings are reserved solely for parents (*sarcasm*).

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

Ani: Having our free time. We can sleep in or stay up as long or as little as we want, with nobody but our cats and dog to worry about. I also think having a child would send my anxiety into overdrive, since I would constantly worry about money and safety issues, etc., etc.

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

Ani: Please don’t treat me as useless or irrelevant just because I don’t have kids.

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

Ani: That my husband and I will be able to fully make peace with our childfree lives and spend as much time as we can doing the things we love to do together…without worrying about the past.

*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.

Where are you on your journey? Are you 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.

Whiny Wednesday: The Last Whine of 2015

Whiny_WednesdayCan you believe this is the last Wednesday of 2015? This year has just flown by. This means it’s also the last Whiny Wednesday of the year.

I’m going to open the floor for all whines today, but wanted to add one extra consideration. If you were visiting this site at this time last year, what’s changed for you? Are there things you would have whined about then that don’t affect you in the same way now? Can you see improvements in your outlook on life? Are there things you’re less tolerant of now than you were last year?

Enjoy your whining and I’ll look forward to seeing you here next year.

Happy New Year!

Looking for Potential

By Lisa Manterfield

Failed TestLily sent me a wonderful blog post that I wanted to share with you as we go into the New Year. It begins with this quote:

“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives… not looking for flaws, but for potential.”

~Ellen Goodman

I really relate to this quote because, in the past, this is exactly how I’ve approached the New Year. I’ve gone room-to-room looking for all the things wrong with me and resolving to fix them in the New Year. Come year-end, I’d look at my goals for the previous January and inevitably find that I’d fallen short, let myself down yet again. So, I’d resolve to do better the next year, to make it the year I improved myself.

I’m not sure whether it’s facing the reality of infertility that’s made me realize there are things about me that just cannot be fixed, or if I’ve just reached an age where I’ve decided to be kinder to myself. Whichever it is, I’ve adopted a new philosophy about New Year’s resolutions.

I no longer resolve to fix my flaws. I’m not going to aim to lose weight or organize my house or try to be more stylish. Nor am I going to compare myself to others—especially women with children—and find myself falling short. I am who I am and, even though I’m far from perfect, I don’t need to be fixed.

Instead I’m looking for ways to tap my potential and be the best version of me I can be. Instead of resolving to be who I’m not, I will try to nurture the best of who I am. I will set goals that point me in the direction I’d like my life to go and not worry about whether the “me” that arrives there is perfect.

As you head into the New Year, will you be making resolutions or setting goals? If so, are you being kind to yourself or are you treating yourself like something that’s broken and needs to be fixed?

Our Stories: Gini

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesGini’s response to “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” made me catch my breath: “No one to utterly delight in!” Oh, how I get that. So many of my hopes and dreams about my own longed-for children could be summed up in that one statement.

At 51, Gini is, in her own words, “past child-bearing age”, yet she candidly shares that she still feels as if she’s on an irritating rollercoaster of hope. So often, as each of us rides the twists, turns, drops, and climbs of our journeys, it feels like we aren’t making progress toward healing. If you are struggling today, I hope you’ll find some solidarity—and solace—in Gini’s story. 

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Gini: I have loved babies since my nephew was born, just before I turned six. I volunteer “babysat” until I was 12, and continued my professional babysitting career through high school. I studied early childhood education in college and returned to volunteer babysitting with my husband. Since we didn’t have children of our own, but loved them so much and were “so good with them”, we were frequently asked to watch children of our friends. I wanted to have 10 babies and then adopt 13 special needs children.

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

Gini: We are childfree by chance. I always knew that if we were to see doctors or adopt, God would let me know. Although we did consider adoption, it was cost-prohibitive. I’m now menopausal and mentally DONE with the whole idea.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Gini: I’m on a rollercoaster! Most of the time I am absolutely thrilled with life with My God, My Love, and our two kitties. Occasionally anger and depression sneak up on me. Although I am past child-bearing age, hope still lives in my heart—and that really irritates me!

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

Gini: No one to utterly delight in! No one to sing songs, play games, and dance with! No one to build things and paint and sew and create with!

LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?

Gini: Realize that your Creator delights in you. Sing, dance, play games with, build with, and create with Your Amazing Creator. You are never alone!

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Gini: After a two-year intermittent process of researching and working out what I thought would be an online business site, I named my website, “my catherine grace.” [See below.] The process has been cathartic and has stirred up a plethora of cascading emotions that led me too look for support online. I am thrilled to have found LWB.

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

Gini: To continue processing the plethora of cascading emotions and continue blogging as a personal journey through “eel-infested waters.”

Gini runs an online business and blogs at www.mycatherinegrace.com. This is from her May 4, 2015 post, “Baby Names”:

When My Love and I were just married, we picked out names for our children—one for a boy, one for a girl. Our girl was to be named Catherine Grace.

Catherine = pure

Grace = empowering Presence of God enabling you to be who He created you to be

My Love and I lived oversees for seven years. The people of Central Asia stole our hearts. In their language, nicknames are created by adding “my” to a child’s name.

Therefore, mycatherinegrace.com!

If you’ve been feeling that you’re all alone on this journey, I encourage you to read other members’ stories here. There is a lot of wisdom and support in the stories themselves and in the Comments. Then, when you’re ready, I hope you’ll share your story with us. Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

Whiny Wednesday: Spouses Not Dealing

Whiny_WednesdayHappy Whiny Wednesday! I hope you’re doing okay today. If not, this is the place to get it off your chest.

This week we turn to spotlight on the men in our lives and discuss the topic of:

Spouses or partners who aren’t dealing or healing

If you have one of these, we’d like to hear to about it.

Resetting Holiday Expectations

By Lisa Manterfield

Christmas Stockings Hanging over FireplaceRecently a friend posted this question of Facebook:

“Are you the adult you dreamed of becoming?”

I laughed when I read it. No! Of course I’m not. The adult I dreamed of was an international engineering consultant, living in a large house with a circular driveway, with a fabulous husband and four beautiful children, including one set of twins.

Aside from the fabulous husband, that adult is almost the polar opposite of the adult I am now. I’m a writer, who works from my very small rented beach cottage, and of course, there are no children in my picture. And yet, once I stop to consider my friend’s question, I realize that I’m a lot happier as this adult than I would have been had my expectations been met. I’ve met the person I’d once dreamed of becoming; she wasn’t a very happy person and she definitely had more grey hairs than me.

Half the battle of coming-to-terms with a life without children is letting go of our expectations—and creating new ones. This is never more true than during the holiday season, one of the most difficult times of the year to be childless.

When I think of my expectations of what Christmas should be like as an adult, those four children are always there, gathered around the tree, gathered around the dinner table, and then gathered around me as the day comes to a close. Even when I realized that children wouldn’t be part of my life, I still strived to make Christmas live up to my expectations. Consequently, Christmastime was very sad time for a number of years. I knew there was no way my expectations could be met, and eventually I stopped making an effort to celebrate.

The worst year was when my husband and I found ourselves sitting at home, with no Christmas tree, no plans, no celebration, and we knew we’d allowed our lack of children to take over our lives. We also realized it was time to set new, more realistic expectations.

When I took a step back and looked at what I really wanted for Christmas, not on the surface of gifts, family, and decorations, but on a deeper emotional level, I discovered that my spiritual wish list included love, peacefulness, companionship, and a good dose of silly fun. I needed to explore new ways to get what I really wanted.

It took a couple of false starts to find a new way to celebrate Christmas, but a couple of years ago we nailed it. Mr. Fab and I rented an apartment for three days in a nearby beach town. We celebrated on Christmas Eve with a lovely dinner at an historic hotel with an enormous Christmas tree, roving carolers, and even an outdoor ice rink (in Southern California!). On Christmas Day, instead of sitting at home feeling sad about a pathetic Christmas for two, we went to the zoo, like a couple of big kids, and had a whale of a time. I even got to feed a rhino and have an ice cream. We both agreed it was the best Christmas we’ve had for a long time, plus there were no tantrums or mountains of dirty dishes to deal with.

It’s hard to let go of our expectations, especially when they’re often so deeply engrained, but if you’re struggling to find your holiday cheer this year, I encourage you to look beneath the obvious losses and examine what’s really missing for you. Even if you can’t meet your tangible expectations of what the holidays should be, you might be surprised to find you can satisfy your true needs in unconventional—and unexpected—ways.

I sat down recently with Jody Day of Gateway Women to talk about how we’ve adjusted our expectations and reclaimed the holidays. You can find the interview at Gateway Women. 

Whiny Wednesday: The Holidays

Whiny_WednesdayEven the most festive among us has to hit holiday burnout at some point. And if you’re trying drum up your holiday spirit and keep coming up empty, you may have hit this point sometime around Halloween.

So this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is simply:

The Holidays

Feel free to unleash your inner Grinch…or not.

Guest Post: The Spiritual Legacy of Childlessness

 By Lorraine Ash, M.A.

©Dave Bredeson | Dreamstime.com

©Dave Bredeson | Dreamstime.com

After my daughter, Victoria Helen, was stillborn at full term, I received a strange message from many people, all carrying a theme: I was incomplete.

I wrote a memoir about surviving the stillbirth. I never thought I’d write a memoir, but, of all the genres, it was the most perfect and necessary for me to process the violence that had rocked my life.

The book, Life Touches Life: A Mother’s Story of Stillbirth and Healing, gained readers and touched hearts throughout the United States and in the Middle East, Australia, Europe, China, Canada, and Mexico. Later, I wrote a sequel, Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life, about how my life, years after the loss, blossomed. What wonderful communions I enjoyed with my readers.

selfandsoul200x320But none of that stopped the insistent message that my life was fundamentally flawed.

One book reviewer told me my story was not one of courage, but of cowardice, because I didn’t get pregnant again.

“You stopped after failing,” she said.

“I couldn’t get pregnant after that,” I’d replied. “We tried, but it didn’t happen.” She remained immovable in her opinion.

Indeed my husband and I had made a decision that was right for us: we opted against fertility treatments. We’d just gone through hell and barely come back—literally, in my case. The Group B Strep that took my daughter’s life almost claimed mine. For a couple of weeks, I was touch and go. When I was suspended in the uncertain hell between life and death, we became very respectful of the powers of Mother Nature. We decided not to try forcing her to do our bidding.

Half an experience

Once, a well-meaning friend offered this thought: “You had half an experience—a pregnancy up to giving birth. Go and complete it. Adopt somebody else’s newborn baby.”

The piece de resistance, though, was the advice of a famed author who saw the Life Touches Life manuscript in its early stages.

“Stop writing this,” she said. “It’s not an appropriate topic.”

“Why ever not?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Because stillbirth is something that didn’t happen,” she said. “Write about something that did.”

She’s the narrative expert, I thought, but apparently there are stories she doesn’t understand. Something happened, all right. Trust me.

Embracing life as it is

So now two things are true of me: I do not have progeny, and I do not live out my days insisting upon, or lamenting, a destiny that did not, for whatever reason, materialize. I know my genes will not live on. Instead, I embrace a different kind of legacy. I approach eternity not by looking to some faraway future, beyond the imagination, but by embracing the moment called Now as it resonates through my whole being—body, mind, and spirit.

My life is about helping others reach those places inside themselves, too, and encouraging them to tell the full truth of their stories as they are—not as they could have been. My message is that today is the only day any of us can affect and that today, no matter the circumstances, is full and complete.

As the great Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh has said, “Life is available only in the present moment. If you abandon the present moment, you cannot live the moments of your daily life deeply.”

Tomorrow will be full and complete, too—but different. I can trace the change while still acknowledging the completeness. Becoming whole is a spiritual process. No matter what happens on the outside, it’s an inside job.

Do you live fully in the story of your life, as it has unfolded? Or are there still gifts in your experiences, however painful, that you have not yet opened?

lorraineashLorraine Ash, M.A., is a New Jersey author, award-winning journalist, essayist, book editor, and writing teacher. Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life, her second book, is available in a variety of formats and online stores, all presented here. Reach Lorraine at www.LorraineAsh.com, www.facebook.com/LorraineAshAuthor , or @LorraineVAsh.