Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Whiny Wednesday: When We Were Kids

A college friend just posted a photo of her son at his high school graduation.

It got my attention because the “kids” weren’t much younger than my friend and her now-husband were when I first met them, and, as the boy looks like his father, the photo reminded me of them and how flipping long it’s been since I was in school.

It also caused a pang of sadness for another experience I won’t get to have. I won’t get to send my teen off to college or take a photo of him and realize he’s a carbon copy of his dad.

It’s Whiny Wednesday, and today I’m feeling whiny about what will never be. How about you?

Whiny Wednesday: The Hardest Job in the World

Whiny_WednesdayThanks to Kath for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic. It’s a good one.

Parenting is the hardest job in the world!

 And, go!

Learning to Ask for Help

By Lisa Manterfield

Help“Ancora imparo. [I am still learning.]”

― Michelangelo, at age 87 in 1562

I am still learning. And thank goodness, too. If all I had to go on for the rest of my life was all I know now, I think I’d be in a lot of trouble down the road. That’s the beauty of age, experience, and wisdom, I suppose. It takes life experience to gain knowledge, and life experience only comes with checking off the years.

A couple of years ago, I learned an important lesson that I wish I’d learned much sooner. I learned to ask for help.

Near the end of last year, I was working through where I wanted to take this site, while trying to keep my freelance writing jobs going, and thinking about the novel I’m supposed to be writing. I was trying to write blog posts, maintain the website, fix tech issues, run a workshop, and keep a marriage ticking along. Finally, I threw up my hands and said what equated to, “I can’t do this all by myself, so I’m not going to do any of it.” I really was ready to throw in the towel.

Fortunately I have a wise group of peers and an amazing mentor who talked me through my angst and convinced me to ask for help. I found an assistant to help with the blog and found a web designer to take care of the site properly. Their help freed me up to do the work I really wanted to do, which is writing posts and developing this community. What’s more, the other work got done quicker and better than if I’d struggled along as usual trying to figure it all out for myself.

The experience gave me pause and caused me to look back at my past and take a close look at myself. Turns out I have never been a person who asks for help. It’s not so much pride that stops me from asking, but more a sense of toughness. “I can do this on my own. I don’t need help.” Now I’m writing it here, it sounds an awful lot like stubbornness, but there you go.

I was also tough (or stubborn) when I was going through the grinder of infertility and later, when I was trying to figure out how to ever make peace with my situation. I never asked for help, even though I needed it. In part I believed it was pointless to ask for help because no one else could really understand what I was going through. I also didn’t want to upset people I knew and cared about, and I didn’t want to put myself in the position of comforting them.

In hindsight, I wish I’d asked for help. I wish I’d taking the chance of confiding in a friend. I wish I’d thought to look for a support group or hired the professional help of a therapist. I would have arrived at my place on peace a lot sooner than I did. But hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and I hadn’t yet learned the value of asking for help.

How about you? Have you asked for help? If so, where have you found it?

It Got Me Thinking…About Big Girl Meltdowns, Holiday Edition

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

Girl ThinkingMeltdowns are no fun, and they’re especially painful when they happen in public.

Recently I attended a friend’s daughter’s first dance recital. It was beautiful, it was funny, it was entertaining. Nothing cracks me up quite like a row of four-year-olds in pink tutus doing their best to tap on a beat.

Except this time I wasn’t laughing. Every tiny dancer made me long for the one I could have had, should have had. I sat in the semi-darkened theater, surrounded by parents, grandparents, siblings, and every form of video camera and cried. Big tears rolled down my cheeks, my nose ran like a fire hose, and when the lights came up, I doubt anyone thought my swollen face was due to seasonal allergies.

I took my first dance class when I was five and tapped, kicked, twirled, and leapt my way through childhood. I loved the magic, the music, the costumes, and even the discipline. I looked forward to one day watching my own daughter glide across a stage, and as I watched my young friend steal the show, I thought about how sad I was to to miss sharing these experiences with a mini-me.

’Tis the season of holiday performances: children’s choirs, reenactments of the nativity (I love Lisa’s description of the drive-through nativity she discovered a few years ago), pageants, caroling, The Nutcracker. I loved them all when I had parts in them, and I still love them. It’s just a little bit harder these days to keep my emotions to myself when I’m in the midst of the family fun.

So, if you notice a gal sniffling in row 12 during the curtain call, kindly pass her a tissue.

 

The holiday festivities can bring up all sorts of painful emotions when you’re childfree-not-by-choice. If you could use some inspiration and encouragement to get you through the tough times, check out the Life Without Baby Holiday Companion available here and on Amazon.

Holiday Blues and a Celebration

By Lisa Manterfield

That’s me, learning to sail.

Every year it seems I get caught out with a bout of the Holiday Blues.

After a really fun and non-traditional Thanksgiving with wonderful friends, I headed into December ready to celebrate the holidays my way. Then Bam! I came down with the Holiday Blues.

There will always be things I wish were part of my festive season, like hand-delivering gifts to my family, shopping for small children, and creating the kind of Christmas I had as a child. But it wasn’t theses losses and what-ifs that gave me the blues this year.

Maybe it was the rainy weather that kept me indoors for much of the week. Maybe it was the end of year racing towards me highlighting the things that didn’t get accomplished this year. Or maybe it’s that Christmas doesn’t really feel like something to celebrate anymore.

Finally, I took my own advice, and that of a couple of friends, and dusted myself off. I bought a tree, made plans for Christmas Eve dinner at a favorite restaurant, and wrote and sent my cards. And then I made myself a cup of tea and sliced off a chunk of proper English fruitcake, and I curled up in a chair and wrote in my journal.

I made a list of everything good that happened this year—all the fun things I did (see photo, for one), the challenges I overcame, the goals I reached this year, the friends I spent time with, the family I visited.

And guess what I discovered? It’s been another great year this year. I have lived my life, perhaps not always to the fullest, but to the best that I was able. And I had a good time doing it.

That, I think, is plenty of reason to celebrate.

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: Kid-centric Advertising

Whiny_WednesdayMr. Fab and I got rid of our TV when we first moved in together and—apart from on a handful of occasions—we haven’t missed it at all.

One of the things I definitely don’t miss is the topic of this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Kid-centric advertising

I’m sure you know what I mean—those ads selling products you might actually use, but which start out with lines like, “We know your family is important to you that’s why you use [fill in the blank product].”

It’s Whiny Wednesday and open season for any topic that’s on your mind.

It Got Me Thinking…About Hug Deprivation

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

Girl ThinkingI had a great life. I’d started and was running a successful business. I had a tribe of smart, funny, and supportive women friends. I was healthy and fit. Furthermore, I was coming to terms with the possibility that I would remain single and childfree, and I was becoming more confident that I could create a fulfilling life for myself, by myself. I had everything I needed and I was happy.

Until.

During an extraordinary two-week period, I took care of my 15-month-old nephew, Jake, while his parents traveled. We danced, we laughed. He threw tantrums, I stressed about keeping the house together and keeping him from getting hurt. Everything was somewhat under control. Then one night, while I was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, he came up behind me, threw his arms around my leg in a tight hug, kissed the back of my calf, then toddled back to the living room.

“Thanks, Jake!” I managed to get out before tears locked up my voice. A current of love surged from my leg and throughout my body as I sobbed into the soapy water. I was struck by the realization of how touch deprived I had been for so long. Sure, friends greeted each other with a light hug and peck on the cheek. It wasn’t even the passion of a romantic relationship that I longed for. It was the daily human interaction, the hugs and kisses, the gentle caresses, the genuine affection, the skin-to-skin contact, something moms get (and have even been heard to complain about).

At that time in my life, I had none of that in my home. What made me a bit scared was that I hadn’t even noticed. It had become my “normal” and I hadn’t thought anything of it until Jake reawakened the need in me.

When I got back home, I brainstormed how I might create more physical affection in my life. I ruled out engaging in one-night stands and, well, hiring male escorts, both of which lacked the “genuine” aspect I needed. I thought about scheduling more frequent massages. I lavished my dog with belly rubs, which helped some. Was it enough? Would it be enough?

The one answer that made sense to me was that in order to receive, I needed to give. I could visit elderly residents of retirement homes, providing them with conversation, attention, and gentle touches. I could become more huggie with my friends, especially my single friends. I could offer to babysit, giving my mom-friends breaks they needed and getting some cuddling time with the children who inhabit my circles.

Are you aware of this need in yourself? If you’ve come up with creative solutions, please share them with us in a comment. Meanwhile (and I know this is just a tidbit), please consider yourself cyber-hugged.

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

 

Sharing Tips for Getting Through the Holidays

By Lisa Manterfield

thanksgivingThis week we celebrate Thanksgiving here in the U.S. and, for the first time in a long time, I am looking forward to it. We are bucking tradition this year and spending the day with good friends, including another childfree couple. Mr. Fab is cooking a decidedly nontraditional Thanksgiving dinner, so all I’ll have to do, aside from a few sous chef duties, is show up and have a good time.

I know for many of you, Thanksgiving might not be such a fun time. Traditionally, it’s a holiday when families gather, which might mean facing insensitive relatives and prying questions about children. It also marks the beginning of what can often be the most difficult time of the year, with social gatherings, kid-oriented activities, and constant reminders of the many ways we don’t get to celebrate the holidays.

I love that this community includes new readers and seasoned pros, so let’s help one another out this year by sharing ideas on getting through the season with our hearts intact.

What are some of the issues you know you’ll face this holiday season? What events are you dreading? What’s going to be hardest for you?

And perhaps most important of all, how to do plan to get through the season with minimum emotional damage?

For more tips, inspiration, and support, check out the Life Without Baby Holiday Companion, available now at Amazon.com and in PDF format at Gumroad.