Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About God

By Kathleen Guthrie

The God I know is a tough broad. She can handle anything I dish out, and over the past two decades, She’s gotten an earful: I’m ready, where is my Mr. Right?! Is your divine plan really to keep me this lonely, miserable, and broke forever? Could you be a little more specific with your instructions about what I’m supposed to be doing with my life?

I’ve made peace with most of my youthful longings. I now know the last loser I almost settled for was not worthy, and that my Mr. Right was worth the wait. I’ve accepted and embraced that this is a co-partnership, and if I’m feeling lonely, miserable, and broke, it’s my responsibility to make changes. Furthermore, I’ve discovered that the plans God had for me are beyond anything I had imagined for myself.

But there’s one bitch-session I can’t yet get past: How come that drug-abusing, child-neglecting “mother” got to have all those sweet babies and I got jack?!? How come You, the all-loving, omnipotent God of everything, has denied the prayers of so many wonderful women, has robbed them of the beauty and privileges of becoming amazing mothers?

Because, like many of you, I prayed my heart out for miracles. I begged. I negotiated. And I cursed. Maybe She has something bigger in mind for each of us, and children would have gotten in the way. I cling to that promise, trusting, hoping, believing. But there are still dark days when I just don’t get it.

Why, God? Why?

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s mostly at peace with her decision to be childfree.

You’re such a mom

Last week I was grumbling to a friend about how much time I spend looking for my glasses. Seriously, it’s ridiculous. I can never find them and without them, I can’t see clearly enough to find them. I have a list of places I look first – desk, nightstand, purse, bathroom – but it’s not uncommon for me to find them on the stove, on top of the trashcan, on the floor, or in the bed.

 

“You need to have a place you always put them,” suggested my friend.

 

I’ve heard the exact thing from my mother for decades, but clearly it hasn’t done me a bit of good. I take my glasses off when I don’t need them and I put them wherever I am at the time.

 

I rolled my eyes at my friend. “You’re such a mom,” I told her.

 

Driving home later that day, I reran the conversation in my head and I cringed at the emphasis I’d put on the word mom. I’d used a disparaging tone, suggesting that my friend’s tendency to want to help was something negative.

 

I thought about the discussions we’ve had here about offhand comments people have made to us that have been so hurtful, and I realized I’d just done the same thing. What if my friend, with a daughter just graduated from high school and preparing to move out into the world, was feeling the pangs of her future empty nest and having a crisis of confidence now that her motherhood services were no longer needed? What if her daughter had said the same thing recently and she’d been stung? What if my offhand comment had really hurt?

 

We can’t censor everything we say on the off-chance we inadvertently hurt someone’s feelings, or there would be no room for humor in the world, but this incident reminded me that everyone brings their own filters to a conversation and what might be an offhand remark for one person could be hurtful to another.

 

The same rules apply to us, the other way round. Because of our filters regarding childlessness, infertility, or our choice to be childfree, what feels like a hurtful barb could just be intended as a meaningless throwaway comment. If we can’t censor the world, then maybe we just need to adjust our filters.

Nieces and nephews

I have just booked my flight to go home to England to see my family. I am counting down the days. I am long overdue for some time off, but more than that, I want to see my nieces and nephews.

I’ve been writing on this blog lately about the role we can play in the lives of other people’s children and how valuable that can be for us and them. The problem is that I’ve lived away from my family for 20 years. I have a niece and a nephew already out in the workforce, three more in college and another three growing up way too fast. My circle of influence over them, or even my participation in their lives at all, feels so insignificant.

Now I don’t have children of my own, I wish that I could have played a bigger role in their lives. But that’s all water under the bridge, as they say, so all I can do now is make an effort to spend some time with them, which is exactly what I plan to do. Soon.

Friends, neighbors, and community

My neighbor is sick. She hasn’t come out and said the words, but she’s hinted at breast cancer. It’s not the first time for her; she knows what to do.

I don’t know what her prognosis is; we haven’t talked about it, but I do know that her relatives all live several states away and that she’s a quiet person who has just a small group of friends. She’s never been married and she doesn’t have children, so I’m wondering: who’s going to take care of her if she gets really sick?

We live in a small compound (although that’s not quite the right word) with five little beach cottages on a lot. Mr. Fab and I live in the front house and the other four are all occupied by single women. One has grown kids and grandkids, but the others are childfree, like me. So, I wonder, if my friend needs care, will it come from us, her neighbors?

Maybe she has a plan figured out that doesn’t include us, but if my friend needed help, I’d be there for her and I’m encouraged to realize that, even though I don’t have children to care for me when I’m older, I do have friends, and I’m willing to be that those friends would be there for me, too, if I needed that. That thought alone makes me optimistic for the future and how this whole thing will work out.

The Plan B Life

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what to do when your plans don’t work out. I’ve had some experience with this, having made a couple of major career changes (engineering to marketing to writing), made commitments to the wrong relationships, and more recently and more significantly, had my plans for motherhood thwarted.

Recently I’ve written some articles on the subject and now I’m very excited to present my new weekly blog on Psychology Today. It’s called The Plan B Life: Redesigning your world when “Plan A” fails.

Although these articles are aimed at a wider audience, moving on to Plan B when Plan A was motherhood is always at the forefront of my mind.

Last week I wrote about Letting Go of the Dream, and tapped into my personal experience when I talked about losing sight of why I wanted that dream (children) in the first place and realizing that other areas of my life were starting to suffer because of my determination to become a mother.

This week the topic was tapping into childhood memories to find your life’s passion again. I don’t know if you had this experience, but I know that I had planned my little world around someday becoming a mother, so when I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen, I saw that my life was full of holes and I had no idea what I was going to fill them with. As I wrote in the article, I did the childhood memory exercise ten years ago and recently revisited my journal to remember some of the things that had once given me joy. It’s a really great exercise (and I can recommend Barbara Sher’s book if you’re feeling lost) and I’ll be including a variation of it in the “Finding Your Identity” workshop I’ll be leading in November. More about that soon.

I’d be thrilled if you’d take a look at the Psychology Today blog, over the moon if you’d click a couple of the share buttons at the bottom, and beside myself with excitement if you decided to subscribe.

I don’t know where all of this is going yet, but I do feel as if I am stepping out into the start of my own Plan B life. And I can promise you I’ll be sending postcards from my travels.

Finding the Silver Lining

When human cloning becomes safe and legal, I’m cloning my mum and renting her out.

During our weekly phone conversation this weekend, the subject of my childlessness came up and I told her that I was glad I’d made the choice I did, to get off the baby crazy train and start living my life again. She understood. (Reason #1 to clone her.)

I joked that Mr. Fab and I are now free to sleep in on Sundays, travel, and more or less do what we want to do when we want to do it.

My mum said something very profound. She said that, before my father died (25 years ago) she couldn’t have ever imagined how she’d survive as a widow. And yet she did. She found the silver lining in being alone. She went back to school; she traveled overseas for the first time; she learned to fix things around the house; and she could please herself what she had for dinner. (Reason #2)

It wasn’t that her life was better without my dad; it was just different, and she kept reminding herself of the positive side of things “because you have to,” she said.

I’m not sure I’ll ever say that I’m glad I didn’t have children. I can’t say that my life is better because of it, but it is very different to the life I’d planned, and most of the time, I can find the silver lining. Thanks to my mother’s hard-earned wisdom, I’m reminded to keep looking for the silver lining, because it’s almost always there.

Destiny’s plans for a childfree life

One of the many things I love about the internet is the ability to take a peek at happenings all over the world, hear different points of view, and experience the sensibility of different cultures. Take this article, Leading a good life without kids, for example, that appeared recently in Sri Lanka’s Daily Mirror.

As I began reading the story of Lathika, I wondered if I was reading a fairy tale.

“Lathika played with her doll, Fiona.  She loved “Playing House” and dreamed of growing up, getting married and having a family of her own one day” felt like a tame way of expressing the desire for motherhood.

When I read, “The years went by and Lathika did not mind the pain and discomfort of regular tests for her fertility for she was now desperate to have a child,” I scratched my head and started wondering what was wrong with Lathika. I have never spoken to anyone who “didn’t mind” the pain and discomfort of fertility treatments. I wondered if Lathika was some kind of Zen master (mistress?) who calmly took whatever life dealt her, or if the author of the piece was just clueless about the emotional frustration of infertility. I also wondered if perhaps Sri Lankan culture forced Lathika to put on a brave face and keep her real feelings to herself. That I could understand.

I read on about Lathika’s attempts to fill the void in her life with creative pursuits and volunteer work, and the calmness of the writing began to wash over me. I nodded my head at the quote, “Your children are not your own,” because I’ve always had that thought about the role of parents in the lives of the human beings in their care (more about this in another post, I think.)

By the end of the piece, I was touched by the message. Although I still wasn’t convinced that “we leave Lathika happy and fulfilled” in her new childfree life, I found myself catching my breath at the idea that “destiny had planned a different life path for her.”

We have an idea about what life is supposed to be like for us. We grow up, fall in love, have children, create a life for ourselves, and live to see our grandchildren become adults and create their own lives. But we all know that life isn’t as clean cut as that.

Maybe destiny has planned a different life path for us, too. Perhaps we can’t see what that path is yet, but like Lathika, I feel strangely comforted by the idea that a different, maybe even better life could be ahead for me because I don’t have children.

Book Review: Savvy Auntie

Melanie Notkin created the Savvy Auntie website as a gathering place for childless and childfree women who play an important role in the lives of other people’s children. It’s a big shout out to those of us who share our time with nieces or nephews, or are “aunties-by-choice” to the children of friends and family. Now she’s written a book by the same name.

In Savvy Auntie: The Ultimate Guide for Cool Aunts, Great-Aunts, Godmothers, and All Women Who Love Kids, Notkin quickly dispels the myth that women without children are lonely, bitter, and don’t like kids. She refers to herself as a PANK – “Professional Aunt, No Kids,” and says, “I don’t have kids, but I’ve got five amazing nieces and nephews by relation, a beautiful goddaughter, a fabulous career, amazing friends, I travel a ton, and I always go to the best restaurants in the city.” Far from bitter and lonely!

Notkin keeps this fun-loving tone throughout the book, with silly tidbits, such as how to say “Aunt” in 28 different languages, how to throw a killer 1st birthday party, and her Auntiescopes, which define auntie types by birth sign (and are dead accurate – at least for Aries Aunts!) But Notkin balances this with practical information and useful advice about taking care of other people’s children, finding age-appropriate gifts, and answering those awkward questions kids often ask their aunties. She even discusses how to deal with other people’s good news when you’re still dealing with your own grief and also offers some comebacks for those prying questions people ask about why we don’t have kids of our own.

Savvy Auntie is a book I wish I’d given when I was 15, when my first nephew was born, but it still makes for a fun read 20-something years later.

A Blog Post About Nothing

They say that when you don’t have anything good to say, say nothing at all. Well, I can’t do that, can I?

For today’s post I intended to reignite the Cheroes series with some new gems I’ve found, but it’s been a long week and I’ve run out of energy, so instead I thought I’d leave you with a short verse from one of my favorite Cheroes*, Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay.

This poem sums up exactly how I feel about my life right now. More about that later though.

Second Fig

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:

Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

* In case you missed the National Women’s History Month series, a Chero is a childless/childfree hero.

Anyone for a Book Club?

I must confess that I’m really enjoying these Saturday morning posts because they’re forcing me to think about some of the things I love, instead of only thinking about not having children. This is good for me, and hopefully good for you, too.

On my list of things I love is reading. I love books – fat ones, skinny ones, weird ones, funny ones – and I’m always on the prowl for a good book recommendation. My good friend Kathleen (who writes the Monday “It Got Me Thinking” column) runs a fantastic book club in San Francisco. I’ve tried to attend, but my recent schedule has caused me to miss the last two meetings and I’m jonesing for a good chat about books.

So, it got me thinking…why not start an online book club here?

I’m envisioning reading a book a month and then meeting either at a given time on the chat or throughout the month on the forum. I will put together a short list of books to begin with. Once the group gets going, we can all decide what to read next. My only caveat is that the books we read have nothing whatsoever to do with not having children!

Any interest in this idea? If so, post a quick comment below and join the Book Club Group on the main site, and we’ll take it from there!