Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories Update: Amber

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I am so glad I followed up with Amber*, who first shared her story with us in the summer of 2014. She is completely candid about the “dark days” that followed, the hard work it took to begin healing, and the bright spots she’s now able to enjoy in a life without children. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you’ll find some encouragement in her story.

•   •   •

When Amber is asked, “Do you have kids?” she answers, “We have dogs, which are much easier than children.” There’s a lightness and humor to her answer that puts people at ease, but it doesn’t reflect the challenging journey she’s been on and her amazing strength and perspective. I was struck by the depth and wisdom in her answers to our other questions, and I think you, too, will be moved by her insight. Maybe some of it will strike a chord with you and help you in your healing.

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

Amber: I actually was never sure I wanted kids, but after some health problems, we were told “Now or never….” I had several surgeries to remove fibroids, and after each surgery I developed Asherman’s Syndrome. Several corrective surgeries, tons of scar tissue reforming, several dangerous ectopic pregnancies later, and then being told our only hope was a surrogate, well…I was fresh out of $75,000. You have to draw the line somewhere.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Amber: I have moved on to live my life and be happy. I still have a wonderful husband and two dogs, and we will always have a wonderful life as long as we are together. I refuse to throw it all away just because we cannot have children. Sometimes people lose sight of what they have while trying to reach another goal. It’s like what Alexander Graham Bell says in my favorite quote:

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Amber: Plan A was ruining my life and I was constantly devastated and sad. We were living in limbo between procedures and surgeries hoping for a miracle. As soon as we made the decision to move on, things started getting better and we starting enjoying our life again. We were back in control, and the most important thing was that we had each other. Thank God we had not lost each other in the whole mess. Lord knows I have lost multitudes of friends and family over our journey of infertility.

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

Amber: I worry about whom we will spend time with as we age, who will pick us up from the nursing home at Christmas. But, then again, some people’s children do not do that. I have to focus on the fact that we will have each other and a wonderful network of family and friends.

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

Amber: I get to spend all day, every day, with my best friend, and we can do whatever we want together at any given time. We get to take our dogs to the beach two to three times a year, sleep in on Saturdays, buy extravagant things, take naps whenever, hang out at the bar and watch a game, and, most of all, love each other more than anything on this earth.

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

Amber: This was from my friend Penny, who died way too young: “Life isn’t what it should be, life is what it is. However, we get to choose what to make of it.”

•   •   •

LWB: How are you doing today?

Amber: I am living my life, but do not get me wrong, I had some dark days after 2014.  It was a lot to work through, and I would have probably benefited from counseling, which I did not do. I will say I carry the guilt of our inability to have children, but my husband has never blamed me. At times I feel that I robbed him of a family life, but we have so many things to be thankful for, and our life is so full. 

I might sound all “Pollyanna”, like life is all rainbows and unicorns. I promise you that is not the case, as we took a long break for my mental health. I am just an it-is-what-it-is type of person. Quite frankly, I am glad that infertility has been the biggest tragedy in my adult life. I have lived longer than my own mother, who died of cancer in her 30s. I see people all around me losing their health, their spouses, their jobs, or their homes. Worst of all, I have seen people lose their happiness, which encompasses countless things, because they are holding onto anger and resentment. 

The best advice I can give is: Do not lose what is sitting in front of you, do not take what you do have for granted. Get rid of the resentment and anger however you must, and live your life. My life is not bad without children. As a matter of fact, many people envy us for our lifestyle. I am so sorry for everyone reading this, as I would not wish infertility on my worst enemy. Just know that you can pick up the pieces after some healing and have a happy life. We have countless friends who are our parents’ age, and we all enjoy kid-free activities.  We have also reconnected with our childhood friends now that their children are older. None of them even know what we went through. (When you tell people, you must be prepared for their well-meant but stupid responses.) We have our dogs, tennis, work, we know every bartender in a ten-mile radius, extra money, and so many other things. To sum it all up, we are living a happy life.

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

Amber: Ahh…this is a loaded question. First and foremost: Go talk to a counselor! Perhaps even join a grief group if your reproductive endocrinologist offers one. Talking to people who are going through what you are would be way more helpful than becoming resentful of all the stupid things family and friends say trying to help you. Trust me, nothing they say will help you unless it is “Oh, I have $75,000 to give you” or “Oh, I can carry your baby for free.”

Do not feel guilty—it is not your fault. Only time will help you heal and, unfortunately, you are going to have to suffer through it to get to the other side, but the other side is better! While you drown in your grief, make a list of all the things you should be thankful for. It is a much longer list when you start writing it down. Help your spouse through their grief too. You are not the only one suffering. 

You have a purpose in life, and that purpose was not just to have children. You must find your purpose, your passion, and your happiness. Time is the only thing in this world that you cannot get more of no matter what you do. What you do with your time is the most precious thing you have on earth. Choose what to do with it wisely.

This (see photo below) is what kept me going, part of my passion and my purpose.

 

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

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

Kathleen Guthrie Woods got goosebumps when she saw the above photo of Amber and her dog. How wonderful and inspiring to see Amber embracing and enjoying her Plan B life!

It Got Me Thinking…About the Invisible Losses of Childlessness (Holiday Edition)

Here in the U.S., we’re entering into another three-day-weekend to celebrate Memorial Day. This is the kind of holiday that, in my Plan A life, would have included a family picnic, a family barbecue, maybe a family outing to watch a parade, and overall a fun opportunity for my children to spend time with the many generations of our family.

So add all of the above, once again, to my list of invisible losses that come with being childfree-not-by-choice. Also on my list:

• Never being able to see my father’s, husband’s, or own eyes in another human being.

• Never having the pleasure of hearing someone say “She’s just like you at that age.”

• Never getting to throw an over-the top child’s birthday party with an ooh- and ahh-inspiring magician, balloon artist, or bubble-making machine.

• Never getting to quietly take pride in my child’s achievement.

• Never being able to watch my grown child pass on to his child the traditions, rituals, and stories I taught him.

In Living the Life Unexpected, the always spot-on Jody Day adds her own list of invisible losses followed by this line:

If you take the time to think about it all in one go, which is more than most of us are ever likely to do because of the breathtaking amount of pain involved, it’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.

“It’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.” That line took my breath away the first time I read it, and it reminds me that grieving and healing is a long and circuitous journey.

I know it’s painful. I know sometimes the “easy” route of denial is appealing. But today I encourage you to set aside some time to acknowledge what you’ve lost. The visible and not-so-visible. I think that is the first step toward letting it go.

If you need help working through the process of grieving, I encourage you to check out the many resources available to you, starting with Lisa’s book Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.

If one book or author doesn’t speak to you, don’t give up; find another. It’s what I’ve been doing, and I promise you it helps.

And wherever you are in the world, whether you’re celebrating Memorial Day or facing just another rough weekend, I hope you’ll remember that you are loved and you are not alone.

 

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

Whiny Wednesday: Missing Out on Parenting Milestones

Graduation season is upon us and social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling left out when friends and relatives celebrate parenting milestones.

As always, your other whines are always welcome.

It Got Me Thinking…About Just Saying “No”

If someone asked me if I’d ever robbed a bank or if I’d ever done illegal drugs or if I’d ever stolen a car and gone on a drunken joyride, I would answer with a simple “No.”

Period. End of conversation.

But when a new acquaintance asks, “Do you have children?”, for some crazy reason, I feel compelled to elaborate.

“No, we have dogs.”

“No, I didn’t meet my husband until we were too old.”

“No, but I love my nieces and nephews. And we’re crazy about our godsons. And there are tons of other kids in our lives who we enjoy!”

In my opinion, I have no obligation to answer any of the above questions beyond the one-word reply. Frankly, if someone asked me one of those very rude and none-of-your-business questions, I wouldn’t feel they deserved any response. So why is it that I feel I owe people an explanation about my childfreeness? I really don’t know.

I’d love to hear what you think and how you reply, and maybe I’ll find the courage to just say “no” the next time someone asks.

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

 

Whiny Wednesday: “I Never Knew Love Until…”


This hot-button whine was sent in from one of our readers.

When you read an interview of some celebrity or hear someone say:

“I never knew what love was until I had a child.”

So…is she saying that because I’m childless I’m not capable or “real” love or that I will be denied the experience of the highest expression of love?

Whether this makes your blood boil or cuts you to the core, whine away, sisters!

And if you have another great whine you need to get off your chest this week, here’s the place to let it rip.

Our Stories Updates: Kay

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I’ve been catching up with some of our early contributors to this column because I’ve wanted to hear how they’re doing. Naturally, I’m hoping for good—if not great—news about new-found passions, successful Plans B and C, adventures on roads that might not have been taken.

But this is real life. Each of our journeys toward healing goes at its own pace, over its own terrain. Kay’s* road has been full of hard bumps, and when I asked her if she would update us on her life today, she initially replied, “I’m not sure that my story is one that will be of any benefit to anyone.” I’m saddened to hear this—and I disagree. For sometimes the benefit we can give each other is saying, “You are not alone.”

After you’ve read Kay’s original story (first posted in 2014) and update below, I hope you’ll add a Comment. Then I hope you’ll consider sharing your own story. Visit the Our Stories page for information and the questionnaire.

•   •   •

After a first marriage to a man who was “never stable enough for us to have kids,” Kay met her current husband when she was almost 42. They got busy trying to create their family, but three pregnancies were lost early, and adoption didn’t work (they weren’t against it, but the reasons it didn’t work were “complicated”). Now 52, Kay still struggles with being childfree by chance and circumstance. After reading her story below, I hope you’ll take a moment to offer her some encouragement in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Kay: Oh, the Waltons. I wanted a big family with lots of children, maybe with foster kids as well.

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

Kay: My parents didn’t have a clue how to show love and fought a lot, and we children felt truly unloved and unwanted. From a very young age, all I wanted in life was to be a mama. That I will never have that is crushing. We are not close to any of our nieces and nephews. We have tried, but we live too far away from them to be very involved.

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

Kay: I don’t have to discover that I am just like my parents in parenting, in spite of my best intentions.

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

Kay: I really, really struggle with this because I so want/wanted to be a mama, and I want to relate to other people. Trying to explain, however, becomes complicated. I frequently get, “You could always just adopt,” which is a more complicated conversation. I’ve found it best to just answer, “No.”

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Kay: I still very much want children in my life, and it doesn’t matter to me now that they won’t be my own. We unofficially mentored a family for a while. We called them our “Rent-a-Kids” and they liked that. But they moved away, so now I’m looking for something similar. I would like to find a way to connect “aged out” foster kids with people who would be family for them, to give them someone to care about them and a place to go for holidays and other momentous occasions. I don’t quite know how to get this started, but I’ve recently come across a couple of possibilities.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Kay: I still struggle with hearing pregnancy announcements, and frequently give a big sigh when I read stuff on Facebook about friends’ kids/grandkids or their parenting stuff. Early on I told myself, “This is not how your life will turn out. You will not have this.” It was an attempt to work for acceptance, but I eventually gave it up as it was turning into a self-pitying whine instead of acceptance. Sometimes I’m angry, more often I’m wistful. I frequently quote Agatha Christie: “Life is badly arranged.”

•   •   •

LWB: How are you doing today?

Kay: I have medical issues that are debilitating, and while I try very hard to be upbeat and positive, I’m much worse than four years ago. Because of these issues, I’ve not been able to follow through with aged-out foster children.

I struggle not to be bitter about life, and I am very thankful for the things I do have: supportive husband, friends and family, our home and cats, a decent functional medicine (semi-alternative) doctor. I think I have the bitterness under control, but I am sad (not clinically depressed) often, feeling that we’ve missed so much.

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

Kay: The question about what to say to my younger self is a conundrum. I guess I would simply tell myself that, with my genetic structure, medical intervention does more damage than benefit, and it would be best to eschew it. And “Embrace life more fully.” I was raised with the belief that “good things come to those who wait” hand in hand with “the meek will inherit the earth,” and those two things combined lead to too much passively waiting and watching life pass by.

 

*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is inspired by the strength and courage of every woman who has shared her story here.

You’re Not Crazy; That’s Your Grief Acting Out

I was so honored to be invited to speak at last week’s We Are Worthy Summit. What an incredible event Nicci, Andrew, and Brandi put together. Over the course of the week, they hosted more than thirty panels, webinars, and discussions, and access to all events was completely free.

If you missed it, you can see the full line-up and replays of all the events on the We Are Worthy Summit Events Page. You’ll see the events listed for each day and if you click on a day, you’ll find all the recordings there.

I taught a webinar on grief and how to create space for dealing with loss. You can see the replay of “You’re Not Crazy; That’s Your Grief Acting Out” below.

I’ll be doing more webinars like this in the near future, and beginning in late May, I’ll be opening a new 90-day program offering daily support and lessons in a private group environment. I’ll post more information soon. You can also sign up here to get updates via email. 

It Got Me Thinking…About the Adoption Option

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

We’ve all heard this response to our telling people we can’t have children/don’t want children/are childfree. I don’t believe these people intend to be callous and cruel, but so often, that’s how this answer feels to me.

Here’s why:

After nearly three years of working through the adoption system, my friends Elise and Chris and their daughter Emma* opened their arms to welcome baby Jane into their family. Oh, how we all celebrated! The long-awaited arrival of this precious child was the answer to so many prayers.

A few weeks later, I received the devastating news that the birth mother had also signed over parental rights to a different adoption agency. After a furious and frantic battle in court, due to what was described as a “rare loophole,” Jane was pulled from Elise’s arms and given to another family.

I wept with Elise as she poured out the details between sobs, and I failed to make sense of it, to see a silver lining or life lesson…oh, screw it, it was all just horrifying. After all the miscarriages, all the hoping and preparing and planning, my dear friends—who are good and deserving people—had their hearts broken once again in an unimaginably cruel fashion.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t my first ride on the heartbreak tracks of the adoption-option train. Another family I knew had to relinquish their son at the six-month mark when his birth mother changed her mind and decided to keep her baby for herself. (I didn’t begrudge her this, yet I so ached for my friends.) And yet another couple, through a private adoptions setup, paid all the living and medical expenses for the birth mother, only to learn at the end that she had scammed several families, taken all their money, then left the baby in limbo with child services.

I can also tell you stories about friends who have been successful in their adoption efforts, but none of their experiences came easily either. Multiple disappointments, years of waiting, tens of thousands of dollars. The harsh realities of adoption are rarely mentioned alongside the airbrushed photos of celebrities and their pretty babies in tabloids, and I think leaving out those details does us all a disservice.

Yes, there are children around the world who need homes, and adults longing to be parents, and I wish I could wave my magic wand and bring them all together to be loving families. But “just” adopt? Omg, people, just stop.

*Not their real names, of course.

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

Whiny Wednesday: Caught Out by Grief


You’ve probably noticed that there are triggers all around—at the mall, in the mail, on TV, in the streets. So this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is this:

Being caught in public by surprise feelings of loss or grief

 Whine away, my friends.

Our Stories: Where They Are Now

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When we marked the ninth anniversary of this site last month, I took a look back at where I was in the beginning (bitter, frustrated, lost), how I grew and often struggled to come to terms with not fulfilling my dream of being a mother, and in what ways I can give thanks for my journey. For it’s made me who I am today: a stronger, wiser, and more compassionate woman who is at peace with being childfree, oh, let’s say 85% of the time.

I also wanted to hear from other LWBers, specifically those who were early contributors to the Our Stories column, so I’ve been reaching out and asking: “Where are you on your journey and how are you today?”

The answers have been as different as the women themselves. I’ve heard tales of emotional see-saws, of being excited for a new Plan B one day and a puddle of regret and disappointment the next (pregnancy announcements and baby showers continue to rub salt in mostly healed wounds). I’ve heard about health issues, some that stemmed from treatments, that continue to challenge even the most resilient among us. I’ve heard from women who have blossomed in the years since we first got to know them, who have pursued their intentions of traveling more, being more aware of their blessings, and thriving in ways beyond what they could have imagined.

As I expected, a few women have dropped off the grid, and that may have happened for any number of reasons. Wherever they are on their journeys, I wish them well. One woman I hadn’t heard from in a while did reply, although she was somewhat uncomfortable about updating me because, a few months after her story was posted, she got what so many of us wanted: a miracle pregnancy that resulted in a healthy miracle baby. My heart expanded with her good news and I am genuinely thrilled for her, in large part because I know of her earlier sorrows and sacrifices. I feel deeply grateful that we at LWB could be here for her when her life path looked quite different.

One woman opted not to re-run her story, but she offered this as she reflected on her journey thus far:

“I remember the darkest moments I went through. Sobbing, pleading and screaming at God. If I could say something to myself in 2014, I would tell myself to hold on. Hold on to your husband, hold on to who you are, hold on to the love that does exist in your life. We are more than our fertility status. We still deserve love, and we have a lot to give the world.”

That’s what I want to say to you today: Hold on. If you are in a dark place and feel like you’re drowning in grief, reach out to your LWB sisters—through comments, through the forums, through just reading the posts and stories and knowing we get it. You are not alone! Hold on to us. Together, I believe, we’ll help each other up and onward toward healing.

One other thing I hear repeatedly from LWBers who contributed to Our Stories is what a healing experience it was for them. Even if you don’t submit your story for posting, consider answering the questions for yourself. You’ll find the questionnaire here.