Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Holly

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our Stories“I need to start doing something with my life,” Holly, age 36, wrote, “otherwise it’s all just a waste of time.”

Holly is in that horrible ugly weird limbo in which she’s grieving her loss of the dream of motherhood, kinda still “hoping for a miracle a little bit”, while also trying to work through her anger and figure out a Plan B. Sound familiar? I thought so.

Read on to see how she’s doing, and consider sharing some of your journey with her in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Holly: I have never been a particularly child-orientated person, meaning I didn’t obsess over other people’s children or coo at strangers’ babies. But there did come a point in my life when I just felt ready to have my own. It felt natural and not at all scary.

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

Holly: Circumstance: I ran out of time. I have been with my partner for 17 years. He is 22 years older and has four grown-up children. At first, he said he didn’t want any more children and it didn’t matter to me because I was young and didn’t know that I wanted them myself. At the start I was so in love, I couldn’t contemplate life without him and I thought it would work out somehow. I realise now that I should have thought ahead.

More recently, though I still love him, I have considered leaving him. But I know it would take me a long time to get to a point where I can start a family with somebody else. I might even have to go through a few somebodies before I find “the one”, then I would need to wait until we’re at the right stage of our relationship before starting a family, and then how old would I be? Although there’s still some sliver of possibility, I made the decision to stop believing, stop wishing, and start accepting a life without children.

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

Holly: A lot of my friends are getting married and having children. When they break the news to me, I have to look all excited and interested. I’m not doing either of those things. A friend of mine who had been trying to convince her husband to get a cat told me she had some news. “Ooh, are you getting a cat?” I asked. “No,” she replied, “I’m having a baby!” I just replied, “But you can still have a cat, can’t you?” It’s knee-jerk reaction for me to find something jokey to say when I get that kind of news because I’m concerned that if I just say “Congratulations”, they’re going to hear the insincerity in my voice.

What I hate most is the ease with which they do it; most of them fall pregnant a few short months after getting married. It’s like they say, “What shall we do now? Have a baby? Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.” Like they’re just deciding to walk through a fucking door, and they don’t seem to appreciate that some people are bricked in.

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

Holly: I always dreaded the baggage that came with having children. I am very glad to have escaped having to be friends with parents who have no personal identity and talk constantly about their children; having to go to (or host!) children’s parties; and being forced to talk to strangers and give them updates on my son/daughter.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?

Holly: Never take anything for granted. Younger woman should not take it for granted that they are going to have children and start thinking about a Plan B. Mums and dads should not take it for granted that everybody can have what they’ve got. (And try to exercise a little tact rather than parading their children around like they’re the second coming, or saying “you’ll understand when you have children”.)

Also, this pain isn’t that of wanting something that I cannot have; it’s more a loss, a grief. Years ago I imagined that my baby already existed somewhere and I was just waiting to meet him. I bought a little jumper and an elephant toy for him, things that I had seen when out buying things for my sisters’ babies and thought I would save for the future. So there were already traces of him in my life. When it became clear my boyfriend did not want children with me, I sat and held these items and talked out loud to my baby. I told him that I loved him and that it wasn’t his fault. I’ve never said any of this to anybody and I know why: it sounds ridiculous. What I mean by this is that I’m not coming to terms with not being able to have a baby, rather I feel I am having to lay my baby to rest. I would never want to compare myself to a grieving parent, as that must be the worst imaginable nightmare, but I do feel this is loss I am feeling.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Holly: I don’t have a Plan B. I’m still trying to work that one out. Right now I am not living my life like somebody who is free of children. I don’t travel, I don’t follow my hobbies or my passions. I need to start doing something with my life, otherwise it’s all just a waste, but I don’t know what that’s going to be yet.

Where are you on your journey? Are you angry? Grieving? Outlining a Plan B? All of the above? We’d love to hear from you so we can better understand our own journeys and so we can 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.

You can find more of Our Stories here.

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

That He Would Do This for Her

This post was originally published on March 23rd, 2012. Sue Fagalde Lick’s book Childless by Marriage has just been published and is available on Amazon and on Sue’s website. Congratulations, Sue!

By Sue Fagalde Lick

When my friend John started going out with Lizzy, a teacher at least 20 years younger than he was, I kept my qualms to myself. Who was I to judge? Had I not married a much older man myself?

A couple years later, I ran into John and Lizzy at the Toledo, Oregon summer festival. Weary from strolling up and down Main Street, I saw them in the crowd sitting on orange folding chairs by the stage outside Bank of the West and decided to join them in the shade of a big alder tree.

I didn’t notice Lizzy’s belly until they stood to move their chairs into the sun. Was it really rounded under her denim overalls or was I imagining it? No, she was definitely pregnant.

Battling hot flashes and glad to be out of the sun, I remained alone in the shade, gazing up at the yellow and green leaves. With each gentle breeze, waves of sadness washed over me. John had finished raising his family. He had retired. He enjoyed his life of writing, music and bicycle trips. I was certain he did not want to start raising children again, but I could see the whole picture: Lizzy was young, she wanted a family, he loved her, and he could not deny her that part of life.

Of course it could have been an accident, a birth-control failure, but they were both too smart for that. This was pregnancy on purpose. That he would do this for her . . . It echoed in my head like a mantra: that he would do this for her. A corresponding chant answered: that my husband would not.

But I got it wrong. When I asked John about it later, he said he was the one who wanted another child. Lizzy didn’t mind doing without, but he wanted a chance to do a better job than he had before.

Why wasn’t my husband like that?

I had been through this so many times. It was not Fred’s fault. I had married him despite his declaration that he did not want to have children with me, that the three he had with his first wife were all he ever wanted. I had decided it was better to have him without children than to marry someone else I loved less or, more likely, to remain alone. Besides, had I not always placed my career above everything, thinking that someday I would get around to kids, but not today, tomorrow, next week . . .?

Suddenly the toe-tapping music grew tiresome. I needed to do the laundry, start dinner, make some phone calls. I kept glancing at John and Lizzy, unable to stop staring at Lizzy’s belly.

I had thought I was past this, beyond this agonizing over not having children. As I gathered my things, waved goodbye to my friends, and started the long walk to my car, I asked myself “Will it never end?”

Sue Fagalde Lick has been married twice to men who did not give her babies. She blogs on the subject atwww.childlessbymarriage.blogspot.com.