Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About the Answer to the Question

By Kathleen Guthrie

My book club recently read Rhoda Janzen’s hilarious memoir, Mennonite in a Little Black Dress. Janzen is childfree, and in an interview included in the back of her book, she was asked if this was a difficult choice. She begins by sharing that her then-husband’s bipolar disorder was a factor, not only the risk of passing his condition on to the next generation, but also because they felt they “couldn’t provide a stable parenting environment.” Certainly very sound reasoning. Then she took her answer a bit deeper, and this is what blew me away:

You know what troubles me? The notion that we should reproduce just because we can. Seems to me we should be able to articulate some proactive, deliberated reasons for bringing a child into the world. When women cite their biological clock[s], I wonder if they’ve thought that out. Shouldn’t human beings assess their biological urges as well as admit them? What if we’re having babies to feel less lonely, more needed? If so, we’re using someone to make us feel better about ourselves. That’s a little creepy.

I’m one of those women who “assessed” and, for many well-considered reasons, decided motherhood would not be the appropriate path for me. It stuns me that other people, and our baby-obsessed society at large, still frown upon this process, this logic. “Creepy,” indeed.

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

Infertility’s Cruel Joke

In an earlier post this week, I talked about hope and moving on. The post generated a lot of great comments and a number of people mentioned how hope is like carrying around a bowling ball and that it is impossible to move on as long as you hold onto it. I couldn’t agree more.

I have definitely let go of my “bowling ball.” I am no longer hoping for a miracle pregnancy. Given my condition, it would be virtually impossible. The problem is the “virtually” bit.

Recently, after talking to someone about moving on, she reminded me that it could still happen and that her friend, who had been told she’d never have children, got pregnant at 48!

She was trying to make me feel better, in that “hopey” way, but it didn’t work, and now I can’t get this thought out of my head.

What if I got pregnant now? Hormones do wild things and as menopause approaches (which I’ve been told it is) those hormones have been known to misbehave. What if my body suddenly kicked out that one juicy egg? What if I got pregnant at 48?

Even overlooking all the health risks of being pregnant at 48, my husband is 15 years my senior, which means he’d be in his 80s by the time our child made it out of high school!! My father-in-law is currently 81 and he is no condition to be taking care of a teenager, nor would he want to.

But there’s an even bigger factor at play here. The bowling ball. I’ve let mine go and I don’t want to pick it up again. I can’t say that I no longer want children, because that’s not the entire truth, but I don’t want to live with the hope or the worry that I might get unexpectedly pregnant. I want to keep moving on with the life I’m creating now.

So, I now find myself in the ironic position of being diagnosed infertile but having to consider contraceptive options.

Sometimes I wonder if life isn’t just one big April Fool’s joke.

Whiny Wednesday: The Mother’s Club

I recently moved to a new town and I’m working to establish a life here. I’ve always got one eye open for community events that I might want to get involved in.

At the farmer’s market last Saturday I picked up a flyer for a group that was all about growing and producing your own food. As I have a garden and it actually rains here once in a while, I’m very eager to create a thriving vegetable patch. I’m even considering getting chickens! So this organization looked perfect for me.

But when I examined the card closer, I saw that the group was aimed at mothers wanting to provide healthy food for their children. I put the card back on the table and walked away.

I can’t say for certain that I wouldn’t be made welcome at that group, but I wasn’t prepared to risk it. And even if I was accepted there, wouldn’t the subject of motherhood trump the love for vegetables?

As it’s Whiny Wednesday, I’m feeling bad about being left out, and whiny about how the exclusivity of motherhood infringes on all aspects of life—even the growing of tomatoes and the canning of fruit.

Do you have a whine, justified or otherwise? Today’s the day to get it off your chest.

Hope vs. Acceptance

In the past week two different people have made comments to me that have amounted to the same message: Don’t give up hope; there’s still a chance you could have a baby.

Whether you’re childless-by-choice, or by circumstance, I’m willing to bet you’ve had someone say something similar to you.

“It could still happen.”

“You’ll change your mind.”

“Don’t give up hope.”

The “don’t give up hope” type of comment is the one that hits me closest to the core. While I think that hope is key to human survival, I think it can be dangerous if it isn’t backed by action. Just hoping something will happen someday is how potential and lives get frittered away.

While I was trying to get pregnant, I was full of hope, but I was also doing everything I possibly could to make it happen. Now that I am no longer trying, I am no longer holding out hope.

But this doesn’t mean I feel hopeless. And this is what I want to be able to explain to people who still carry hope for me.

Losing hope of having children is very different from accepting and coming-to-terms with the fact that I won’t. I am not hopeless; I haven’t thrown in the towel; I haven’t rolled over and surrendered to my childlessness. I have made a conscious decision to stop my quest to conceive and for the past two years I’ve been working on coming-to-terms with that decision. I haven’t lost hope; I’ve just changed my outcome. I haven’t simply given up on the idea of having children; I’ve made a decision to live childfree.

I know that many of these comments are said with the best of intentions. People who care about us can’t bear to see us not get something we want, or not get something that they think we should want. There is still a pervading idea that people who don’t have children do, or eventually will, want them. But some of us just don’t, or won’t, or did once, but don’t anymore. For the latter group, it’s not about giving up hope; it’s about accepting what is and building a life from there.

Childfree Women Lack Empathy and Ability to Love?

Sorry to ruin your Saturday, but this article got me all riled up and I had to share.

Former politician Mark Latham has accused the Australian Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, of lacking empathy because she is childless-by-choice. He says:

“I think having children is the great loving experience of any lifetime. And by definition you haven’t got as much love in your life if you make that particular choice. […] Anyone who chooses a life without children, as Gillard has, cannot have much love in them.”

This kind of narrow-minded thinking makes me sick, and I see it over and over. How does making a conscious, intelligent decision to not bring children into the world equate to an inability to love?

Mr. Latham’s ignorant assertion that “Anyone who chooses a life without children cannot have much love in them” implies that everyone who has children must be full of love.

So here’s a quick list of some recent news articles:

Chicago Tribune: Indiana man sentenced in 6-month-old boy’s death

Sydney Morning Herald: Woman charged over baby’s death

The Times: Mother and boyfriend guilty of causing baby’s death

Enough said.

Mr. Latham, I suggest you engage your brain before opening your mouth in future.

Mother’s Day: Part I

Self-Portairt: Mum and Me Climbing Mountains

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day in the UK, where my mum is. I sent her a card and on Sunday I called and wished her a Happy Mother’s Day. We chatted about the weather and her garden, and she caught me up on the news. It was a lovely Mother’s Day—for both of us. I quietly, privately, without ceremony, celebrated my own lovely mother.

Next month will see Mother’s Day here in the U.S. On that day I’ll probably stay in bed.

Thanks to the Hallmark influence, people will be going nuts for every mother, not just their own. Restaurants and stores will be celebrating motherhood and those of us who aren’t mothers will be reminded again of what we’re missing.

When I celebrate Christmas, I try to remain aware that others may come from different religious backgrounds, and I choose carefully when to say “Merry Christmas” and when to opt for the safer “Happy Holidays.” I celebrate Christmas in my way, but I don’t force my celebration on others. I’m not suggesting that “Happy Mother’s Day” be replaced with “Happy Everyone’s Day,” but I do wish that Mother’s Day would return to its origins, of children celebrating the mothers they love, in their own private way.

Where Do Your Men Go?

In my own efforts to come to terms with a life without children and talk about the issues that affect us women, I sometimes forget that there’s a whole other group of people dealing with this issue: men.

IrisD brought up the conversation recently on the forums, so I asked my husband for his thoughts. He has grown children, so doesn’t have quite the same issues I do, but our subsequent infertility definitely affected him. He agreed that men feel many of the same pressures women do to produce offspring and fit in with society’s expectations. Many men feel tremendous pressure from their families (sometimes more than women) to continue the family name. And men often feel alienated from friends and co-workers, whose weekends are spent coaching Little League and taking family camping trips.

So, where do these men go? Where do your men go? Who do they talk to? Would they benefit from a site like Life Without Baby, where they could safely go to talk out issues of infertility and childlessness with like-minded men?

I have no idea what, if anything, I would/could/should do with this information, but I am wondering if there’s a need out there and if there’s a way to fill it. I’d really appreciate your thoughts.

And here’s someone else wondering a similar thing, with some interesting comments from men.

Dorothy Quintana – A Local Chero

Credit: C.M. GUERRERO / EL NUEVO HERALD

Thanks so much to Iris who sent me this wonderful story about an amazing local Chero in Miami.

Dorothy Quintana recently passed away at the age of 101. She had been a vocal activist in her community for over 50 years, fighting crime and drugs in her neighborhood of Wynwood, FL. In fact, three weeks before her passing she was at a local council meeting banging her cane on the table in her plea to get funding for a senior citizen transportation program. Her proposal was approved.

Dorothy was an active part of her Neighborhood Watch team, so vocal in her efforts to expose criminals that she had a full surveillance system installed in her home and always carried a gun.

Dorothy also opened her home to a steady stream of immigrants and refugees, ensuring they had a place to stay and something to eat. She had no children of her own, but those whose lives she touched said they all felt as if they were her children.

Dorothy Quintana was a passionate and much-loved Chero, and a true inspiration.

Marilyn Monroe

So many words come to mind when we think of Marilyn – bombshell, icon, tragic, to name but a few. Her image is universally recognizable, and almost half a century after her death, she remains an enigma. Above all, though, Marilyn Monroe was a star. She understood fame, even if she didn’t always like it, and she understood that her image was everything. She played the dumb blonde to perfection, but beneath that veneer, she was far from innocent or ignorant. You only have to read some of her whip-smart quotes to see that.

I have a special affinity for Marilyn that I’ve never been able to quite put my finger on. Her movies are among my guilty pleasures, with Some Like it Hot topping my list. There was something fragile and untouchable about her, and yet she had a strength and fortitude that I admire.

Marilyn was married three times, to James Dougherty, and more famously to Joe DiMaggio and then Arthur Miller. She never had children.

I wondered if she was childfree-by-choice, and how having children would have changed her life, her career, and her image. This was during an era when stars disappeared to quietly give birth and then reappeared on screen as stunning as ever. Motherhood and sexiness did not go hand-in-hand.

But in snooping around for this post, I discovered that Marilyn had suffered several miscarriages and at least two ectopic pregnancies that were terminated. For me, this information casts an entirely different light on the sadness I could always sense behind Marilyn’s eyes. Maybe that’s the unexplainable thing that has always drawn me to her.

Marilyn is one of my favorite Cheroes from this month, and she’s also responsible for the quote that stumped almost everyone in the Expressing Motherhood contest! Fortunately, Jennifer Segundo got it, and by virtue of being the ONLY correct answer, she is also the lucky winner! Thanks to everyone else for some great guesses.

Help with a Research Project

University of Texas Psychology student, Lindy Lotz, is conducting a research project to investigate the life satisfaction of women who do not have children and how this relates to various aspects of life (e.g. desire to have children, pressure to have children).

She is looking for volunteers to a quick online survey. I took the survey myself and can vouch that it really does take less than five minutes to complete. As a plus, participants who complete the survey will have the opportunity to enter into a drawing for a $100 VISA gift card.

The eligibility criteria for this survey are women, 18 and older, who do not have biological children. There is no limitation regarding location.

If you are interested in taking this survey, just click on this link. Thanks!