filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
Have you ever been in a conversation with a group of women, only to watch the talk turn to motherhood and feel yourself fading into the background?
That’s the topic of this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Being excluded from conversations because you don’t have children
Happy Whining!
Seven years ago, when I started this blog, I was a desolate mess. I’d made plans to build my dream life and, bit by bit, those plans were crumbling beyond my control.
I’d quit my corporate job to become a writer. My plan was to make a living writing articles for magazines, which would allow me time to write my novel. Then, when my children were born, I’d be able to work from home and be there to take care of them. It was a perfect scenario.
Except, the children didn’t come and magazines started to go out of business and my novel wouldn’t sell. My dream quickly began to fall apart. I felt alone, despite being surrounded by people who loved me, and my life felt hopeless and utterly out of control.
And once things fell apart, it seemed like so many areas of my life suffered too. I felt challenged in my career, finances, marriage, health, family, all while trying to navigate grief. I had already hit my rock bottom when I decided to start this blog. It was a first step in starting my climb back up.
All of us hit our rock bottom at some point and each of us has to make our own way back to the surface. I hope this site and this community have served as a small step up for you.
So today, I’d like to share some stories of other women from our community. I met most of them through their blogs, when they were already on their way back up from their lowest points. These women have incredible success stories, but I know that, at some point, they each felt out of control and hopeless. They suffered through depression, failed marriages, health crises, and deep grief. I hope that sharing their successes will inspire you to keep moving forward and keep believing that things will get better.
Last week, Jody Day presented her first TED talk, “The Lost Tribe of Childless Women”. She has become a powerful advocate for women aging without children.
Melanie Notkin of has also done TED talk and has shone a new light on “Otherhood” and the value of childless aunts.
Tomorrow, Tracey Cleantis launches her second book, An Invitation to Self-Care, hot on the success of her infertility-based debut book The Next Happy.
Also preparing to launch her second book, The Mother of Second Chances, Justine Froelker is coordinating a tour of 21 infertility blogs leading up to National Infertility Awareness Week.
Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos was the first blogger I found when I started to reach out for my tribe. She is continuing to blaze trails with investigative journalism and advocacy work around the fertility industry.
Lesley Pyne is hard at work on a book that has come from her wonderful world coaching women through grief after infertility. I hope to share news on that later this year.
And our own Kathleen Guthrie Woods is in the revision of her story, The Mother of All Dilemmas, early drafts of which I have been privileged to read. More to come on this soon, too.
As for me, I’m doing all right. My plans are working out too, even if not quite as I’d first envisioned them. Tomorrow, my debut novel, A Strange Companion (the one that couldn’t get a sniff) will be published. I am enjoying a relationship with Mr. Fab’s grandchildren, something that would have been too hard to navigate seven years ago. And, I never believed I would say this, I’m happy. My life is good.
Today, my rock bottom feels a long way behind me. I hope that yours will someday, too.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“I think I have not yet healed as much as I would like,” Janey wrote to me in her cover letter. She first filled out our questionnaire for this column in early 2015, just a year after she ended her 17-year-long IVF journey—one that included six unsuccessful IVF cycles, a miracle natural pregnancy and heartbreaking miscarriage, and an ectopic pregnancy with a donor egg that required emergency surgery. I wept as I read “A lifetime of longing and waiting was literally ripped from us in under an hour.”
This past November she turned 48, the cut-off age for possible treatment with donor eggs and the final “no” to any possible miracles. With her wounds still so very raw, she decided to send in her story. “I would so love not to feel a tightening in my throat when others make announcements or speak of their pregnancy/toddlers,” she wrote. “I hope sharing my story helps others and me in finally letting it all go.”
That’s my hope, as well.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Janey: I’ve wanted my own baby as long as I can remember. I recall being envious of my older cousin when she was pregnant with her first; I was about eight. I asked my mum constantly to have a younger brother or sister. I dreamed of watching a child grow, nurturing, going to the park, cooking for him/her, and just wanting them to grow up balanced, loved, and feeling important and happy.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now? (for example: still in denial, angry, hoping for a miracle, depressed, crawling toward acceptance, embracing Plan B)
Janey: Crawling toward acceptance. I still feel all the other emotions on a daily basis and cannot quite believe a lifetime of yearning and waiting has ended this way.
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Janey: After 17 years, being told I needed an operation to check out my remaining tube. I felt sick at the prospect of more treatment that would still only offer a slim chance of success. I think I lost my faith that day, and I could no longer hide behind “any statistic however low was better than no chance”. That pain was rock bottom for me and my husband, for we cannot knowingly go further into that desperately sad place that we have been so many times before. Then, when I told my husband the clinic had called to offer us another donor, I saw hope dance across his face momentarily, instantly followed by a darkness that drained him of all his colour. I saw a physical shadow cast across his features, one of anger, sadness, and terror. This is what I recall whenever I feel weak.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Janey: Not having the day-to-day joy/struggle that is part of everyone’s life. No first words, school days, birthday parties. The pride as they grow in life and leave school, get work, meet partners. I can recall the pride I see in my mum when she talks of me or my brother. I broke down recently when she was at the hospital with her hip replacement and was asked, “Who do we call if you have a problem?” Answer, “My daughter, Jane.” I will never have that, not ever.
LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?
Janey: That it was not a choice, I am not free. I deal daily with the disease of infertility and the sadness of not ever being able to hold and nurture my own child. I constantly put my feelings aside and congratulate others, and I would love for the fertile world to acknowledge the devastation of infertility and the lasting impact.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Janey: “No. Life has not gone to plan on that front, and I’m unbelievably sad about it.” By the time I got to being able to respond this way, I realized I was too old for people to ask; they generally assume I have them and they have left home by now. It feels easier to leave it that way. I think I said it once to someone, and they were momentarily understanding. It felt liberating at the time and a step forward towards acceptance.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Janey: Finally seeing that my feelings over all these years are normal. I have experienced so much jealousy and anger at the world, and it was wonderful to have that validated and not to keep forcing myself to face people or situations that leave me drained. LWB has allowed me to feel quite a lot of pride in myself for getting out of bed and going to work and finding the good in myself. This is not all there is to me. I am whole and I am enough.
Where are you on your journey? Are your 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.
Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.
By Lisa Manterfield
Yesterday was Mother’s Day in the U.K.. I know it will have been a very difficult day for many of you. For me, the small upside to living on the opposite side of the world from my mother is that I can cheerfully celebrate her without needing to protect myself from the celebrations swirling around me. Come May 14, Mother’s Day in the U.S., I can keep a low profile without feeling like I’m neglecting her. I’m grateful for that.
During a visit to the U.K. a couple of years ago, I was my Mum’s date at a senior social night she wanted to attend. Aside from the organizer’s son and grandchildren, I was the only person under 70. It was great.
At the event I ran into the mother of an old school friend I haven’t seen or heard from in 20-plus years. When I asked after him, she regaled me with a running inventory of all his successes—his well-paying job, his lovely wife and her lovely job, their lovely house, and, of course, their two amazing children.
“And do you have children?” she asked.
“No,” I told her. “I don’t.”
And I swear to God that was the end of our conversation. No questions about my husband, my work, where I lived, or what I’d done with the last 20 years. Nothing.
I can imagine the conversation she’ll have when she next sees her son.
“I ran into Lisa the other week. She doesn’t have any children. Poor thing.”
My overriding feeling is this: She is a very nice lady, but I’m glad she’s not my mother.
My mother was sad for me that I couldn’t have children, but she’s never made me feel like a failure as a daughter because of it.
I’m honestly not sure what my mother says when people ask her if I have any children. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t drop her eyes from the shame of having to tell people her only daughter is barren. I hope she sees me for all the things I am, including the fact that I’m not too self-important to go with her to a senior social night and sing songs with the old folks.
I hope I give my mother plenty to be proud of, even if I didn’t give her grandchildren.
A while ago Kath sent me this article about Dolly Parton and her views on childlessness and other people’s children. She talks about how she’s made room in her life for her nieces and nephews, how their children came to call her “Aunty Granny”, and how she’s now “Gee-Gee” (for great-granny.)
“I often think, it just wasn’t meant for me to have kids,” she says, “so everybody’s kids can be mine.”
I love her for that attitude.
So, why did this lovely article warrant a Whiny Wednesday spot?
Because in the sidebar of People magazine, in a section titled, “You May Like…” where I’d expect to find articles about other cheroes (heroes who happen to be child-free) like Miss Dolly, instead I’m offered stories about the ever-expanding Duggar clan and even more “things you didn’t know” about celebrities and their offspring.*
Even when we do get to hear about someone without children, there’s no escaping the fact that, ultimately, families rule.
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s under your skin this week?
*Note: when I checked this week, there were new non-kid articles, so it may be safe to go and read the Dolly piece.
By Lisa Manterfield
Spring has sprung and, as usual, I find myself in a cleaning and decluttering frenzy.
I’ve made trips to the thrift store with bags of clothes that are too big, too small, or just plain ugly. I’ve purged my kitchen of all those “good idea” gadgets, rusted cake pans, and broken plates that I’ll get around to gluing “someday.” I’ve even parted with a box full of books, which is a big give-up for me. And I’ve been eyeing the curtains in my living room and thinking about throwing them in the washer.
I go through this every year and find it very therapeutic. But in the past, it’s also been a dangerous pursuit, fraught with emotional landmines.
One year, while rummaging through a rarely used cupboard, I came across some baby-related stuff. I’d been getting rid of all those things bit-by-bit, and I was fairly sure they were all gone. So it was a deflating moment when I unearthed some items that had slipped through the net.
This find was particularly difficult, as it was the glossy information packet we received from our first fertility clinic. It had a picture of a beautiful glowing baby on the front and was filled with encouraging stories, happy family photos, and explanations as to how the expert team would help us build the family of our dreams. Inside I found test results, ovulation charts, and notes written in my own handwriting, reminding me of where I’d been. The whole thing reeked of hope and it stirred up some of those old emotions.
To my credit, I ditched the whole thing without getting upset. I didn’t keep one scrap of paper. There was another, similar item in the cupboard, too, but now I can’t even remember what it was, because I tossed that out as well.
After that, I went to my bookshelves and pulled out the Knitting for Two book I’d been keeping. In addition to the maternity cardigan I started (that was still somewhere in the house) I’d actually used the book to knit a sweater for a friend’s baby. I only did it once, because it was so painful, and I realized that it was part of the hair shirt I chose to wear for a while, when I was forcing myself to be around other people’s babies, and to be “genuinely happy” about pregnancy announcements. This was long before I figured out my need to grieve and heal, so that I could genuinely be happy for someone else’s news. At that time, I had opted to torture myself by knitting from my baby’s book. So out it went.
My purging of baby stuff was a gradual process. At first, I couldn’t get rid of anything. After a while I threw out the assorted test kits, and the doctor info, moving slowly towards throwing out baby clothes (and even a maternity top a friend had given me.) The fertility and pregnancy books went next, and so it continued.
I’ve no doubt that there will be other landmines scattered around my house, even now, and that they’ll come to the surface some day, but now I know I can handle them. And I know I can throw them away with no (or little) love lost.
***
Just a reminder that the ebook versions of both I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood and Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen are half price ($4.99) on Amazon until tonight.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
“You are not alone.”
I think those might be four of the most beautiful words in our language.
Not long ago, I was a single, childfree woman who felt like the last single and childfree woman on the planet—or at least among my circle of friends. I rarely talked about my sadness, my isolation, my desperation, and my fears that I would never be a member of the mommy club with my peers. Instead, I pasted a smile on my face and stuffed myself into puffy bridesmaids gowns and nodded with feigned understanding as mommies shared their birthing and child rearing stories at baby showers. It is possible to feel completely alone in a room full of people.
I credit our amazing founder Lisa Manterfield with opening my eyes to a new world of possibilities. Through her and the LifeWithoutBaby site, I became acquainted with Pamela Tsigdinos, author of Silent Sorority; Melanie Notkin, the Savvy Auntie; and Jody Day at Gateway Women. I was introduced to our cheroes (heroes who just happen to be childfree), including Oprah Winfrey, Marilyn Monroe, Sally Ride, Mary Cassatt, and Julie Taymor. Getting to know more about these women has shown me that a childfree life can indeed be exciting and fulfilling.
What has touched my heart the most is how women just like me have shared their stories and offered support. As I’ve (cautiously) begun to tell women outside of our circle my story, I’ve been amazed at the candid responses: “I never really wanted children…I love being an aunt and that’s enough for me…You are so brave and you inspire me…I’ve never told anyone this, but….” Wow. Once I opened myself up, women from all corners of my life opened up to me and told previously undisclosed stories of infertility battles, adoption disasters, and hurtful discrimination—stories we hear on this site every day. All of these experiences have served to remind me that while the circumstances that brought us here may be different, our passion for living our lives to the fullest is a common denominator. I am humbled to be included in these discussions, and awed to sometimes recognize that I have been the catalyst.
If you’re feeling alone, I encourage you to explore this site more fully and look for topics and stories that resonate with you. There are many resources available here. There’s wonderful support and encouragement here. You are—and I am—not alone. Embrace it.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up a memoir about her experiences as a temporary single working mom, an adventure that helped her come to peace with her decision to be childfree.
Whiny Wednesday has become such a favorite on the blog and I know that many of you look forward to the chance to have a good rant about what’s on your mind.
For those of you who are new to Life Without Baby or maybe not sure what this Whiny Wednesday thing is all about, I thought an brief explanation might be in order.
Whiny Wednesday came about because many of us felt we were going through our respective journeys alone and that our friends and family often didn’t understand how much we were hurting. Many readers said felt they felt they had to put on a brave face around other people and that the things they wanted to talk about sometimes felt like “whining.”
So, Whiny Wednesday was created as the place where, once a week, you can come and vent about whatever’s on your mind, especially the things you feel you can’t say in-person around others. Most weeks I post a topic for discussion, but the comments are always open for griping about whatever happens to be on your mind.
So, now you know what it’s all about, feel free the have a really good whine this week.
***
P.S. Just a reminder: To celebrate the 7th anniversary of Life Without Baby, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home and Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen ebooks are half price on Amazon this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
This week marks the 7th anniversary of Life Without Baby. In March 2010, I sat with my laptop on a sunny patio in a little restaurant (now gone) in Northern California. I ordered a glass of sparkling wine and a dozen oysters, and I tentatively wrote my first blog post.
It was more of a mission statement, really—a public show of my intention to talk about infertility and childlessness. It was a shout out for help, too, a call out into the world in the hopes of hearing someone call back, “Me too.”
No one did.
In fact, no one commented on my posts until I wrote the first Whiny Wednesday post the following month. It’s remained the most popular feature of the site ever since. Turns out there were lots of us wanting to be heard, after all.
Kathleen was with me from that very first day. I texted her to tell her I’d written the first post and we celebrated this wary step out into the unknown. A few weeks later she wrote her first guest post about finding a new path. By the end of the year, she had was writing her regular It Got Me Thinking column, and she’s been here ever since.
That year, I also discovered Pamela’s book Silent Sorority: A Barren Woman Gets Busy, Angry, Lost, and Found. It was my first encounter with someone who’d shared my experience and had put into words all I’d been feeling.
Since then, I’ve posted almost 1500 posts, received more than 11,000 comments, and welcomed more than a million visits from over 100 countries. I definitely don’t feel alone anymore.
A couple of years ago I wrote a post about the importance of marking anniversaries—the happy and the sad—as a way of measuring how far we’ve come. I could never have imagined that, seven years after that first post, I would still be writing posts and meeting new people, or that I would have written two books about life without baby.
I also could never have imagined the level of peace and, yes, happiness that I have in my life, even though it will never include children of my own. For those of you just trying to figure all this out and wondering what your lives will hold, I hope this serves as encouragement. It does get easier, you will find a new path, and there is even happiness, more than you could imagine, in a life without children.
No good anniversary celebration would be complete without presents, for this week (until March 20), the ebook versions of both I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood and Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen are half price ($4.99) on Amazon.
Finally, a big thank you to all of you who’ve supported me all these years. I never dreamed when I started this site that I’d get to know people from all around the world or that I’d get to form real friendships and even get to meet some of you in person. It’s been a journey I could never have imagined, and I’m grateful to have had you along for the ride.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
We’re doing something a little different this week.
I met Michele DeMarco a few years ago, and we quickly bonded over shared experiences of overcoming life-threatening illnesses and being childless not by choice. She told me much of her story, but I didn’t know the full extent of what she went through until she recently published “Choosing Life: The Ultimate Sacrifice” on Medium.com.
Since she went public with her story of having to choose between her life and that of her unborn child’s, she’s received an outpouring of support from friends and strangers, and this has helped her along on her path toward healing and acceptance. “I can’t tell you how (surprisingly) great it’s been to put it out there,” she wrote to me in an email after I praised her bravery. “I’ve received incredible notes and comments from people—men included—about it, and, in some cases, their similar experiences. That, for me, is why I did it,” she said.
I hope you’ll take time to read her story, and maybe add your comments here or reach out to Michele directly at micheledemarco.com.
Then, I hope you’ll consider taking the next step in your healing by sharing your story, here, with us.
Where are you on your journey? Are your 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.
Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.
~ "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."
