filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
This week’s topic is the antithesis of the “People who talk about nothing but their kids” topic, but it can be just as difficult to deal with:
People who assume you don’t want to be around their kids
Feel free to bring your own topics to the comments if this isn’t what’s on your nerves this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
Photo Credit: “Rollercoaster” Stevie Gill
Today is Groundhog Day here in the U.S., that monumental day when Punxsutawney Phil comes out of his burrow, looks for his shadow, and thereby predicts whether spring will come early or if six more weeks of winter weather can be expected. It’s all good clean fun and not to be taken too seriously (although Phil is fairly accurate), and I’ll admit to getting a certain thrill out of the festivities and silliness.
In the movie Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays a weatherman stuck covering the low level news of Phil’s forecasting. Desperate to get out of the town, he finds himself stuck in a time loop, waking up day after day, reliving the same series of events over and over again, each time growing more and more frustrated.
I can remember feeling this way about grief. I recall waking up every morning thinking, “Oh no, not this again” and wondering why I should even bother getting out of bed when there was nothing worth getting out of bed for.
The thing I learned about grief is that, if you don’t get out of bed, you get stuck in that loop of feeling like life isn’t worth the effort. You can talk yourself into believing that life without children is no life at all, that you’re not complete unless you’re a mother—all those things we hear out in the world that we can start to tell ourselves.
It’s not helpful to ignore grief, to pretend it’s not real and that “everything’s okay, honestly” when it’s not. But you also have to beware of getting stuck in an endless loop of sadness. If you’re feeling that way, here are some ideas to get unstuck:
If you’ve found yourself stuck in this kind of grief loop, how have you found a way to break the cycle? If you’re feeling stuck right now, what could you do to make a change so you don’t have to endure another six weeks of winter gloom?
I know I’m probably going to have to duck for cover with this week’s topic. We’ve all heard it and the sting never seems to diminish. So here we go:
“You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids.”
I’ll be behind the couch if you need me.
By Lisa Manterfield
During my years of trying to conceive, I worked in the corporate world. I managed a department of about eight people. When I first took the position, only one member of my staff had children. By the end of two years, only two of us remained childless. I had three pregnant women in my department at one point, and every new announcement was followed by “It’s your turn next.” Of course, my turn never came.
There are so many challenges in the workplace when you don’t have children. There are cubicles festooned with photos of children, lunch groups dominated by kid talk, and family-oriented company picnics. There’s also the challenge of some parents using their parental responsibilities as an excuse to bend the rules and not pull their weight. And, of course, there are the inevitable pregnancy announcements and subsequent baby showers.
What are some of the workplace challenges you face and how have you found ways to navigate them?
This week’s topic is a tough one.
Any unexpected pregnancy announcement can be hard to handle, but it becomes even more tricky when the new arrival is a family member. So, this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is:
Trying to be happy about a birth in the family
As always, any topic is open for whining, so let it fly.
Mr. 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.
By Lisa Manterfield
Ever since I was as young girl besotted by the weekly children’s program “Record Breakers”, I’ve had a dream of making it into the Guinness Book of World Records. I’d fantasize about some of the crazy things I could do, given that I wasn’t born exceptionally tall or flexible or fast.
As the years passed, I let go of this childish fantasy and got on with life, but last year, in the middle of re-evaluating my life and setting some fun goals for myself, I created a Bucket List. Along with becoming a New York Times Best Seller (currently working on this) and growing my hair long one last time (working on this also), I included “Be a Guinness World Record Holder” on my list. Then, last summer I got the chance to go for that goal.
I attended the World Domination Summit in Portland and participated in the Great Namaste, an attempt to break the record for the world’s longest yoga chain. You can see the video of the event here.
WDS 2014 | The Great Namaste from Chris Guillebeau on Vimeo.
We succeeded in beating the existing record, but we still had to wait for verification from Guinness. Four months later, we got the news. We did it. I was officially a World Record Holder. And to prove it, I could order (for a small fee) a certificate of accomplishment.
I was so excited at the prospect of have my World Record Holder certificate, but as I sat down to place my order, I had a thought. “What’s the point? What am I going to do with this certificate?”
If I were a mother, I’d do it for my kids. I’d be excited and proud. Maybe my kids would have taken me and my certificate to Show and Tell, where I could have shared what I’d learned about setting and achieving goals, no matter how far-fetched, and about the importance of making life fun.
But I don’t have that.
I sat there imagining my certificate arriving. Maybe I’d show it to Mr. Fab and maybe he’d be appropriately impressed, but then what? Would I frame it and hang it on my wall? Or would I stuff it in a drawer and forget about it?
I almost canceled the order, but then I thought, “Sod it!” I don’t need to do this for anyone else but me. I’m proud of me and that’s enough. Yes, maybe it will get stuffed in a box, but maybe when I’m old I’ll look back fondly and remember that day. Maybe whoever gets to rummage through my stuff when I’m gone will find it and be surprised. Who knows? And who cares?
I remember writing somewhere once, “I’m not dead; I’m infertile” and I need to remember that mantra. Just because I didn’t have children doesn’t mean I don’t still get to have a life. And when I look back on that life, I want it to be full and amazing—officially or otherwise.
By Lisa Manterfield
That’s me, living life to the fullest in trapeze class earlier this year.
I got caught out again this year 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.
By Lisa Manterfield
Recently 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.
I’m coming to the conclusion that 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.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Books by Ron Harner
My nephews love Suck It Up, Tate!, one of three books for kids by Ron Harner. It is one of those books they beg me to read to them “Again! Again!” Clearly, Ron “gets” kids, so it may come as a surprise that he doesn’t have any of his own.
How many times have we heard “You wouldn’t understand, you’re not a parent” and felt our blood boil? The next time some unfeeling person slings this at you, remind them that Theodor Seuss Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss, didn’t have children of his own. Then tell them about Ron Harner. His story is below.
By the way, when Geisel was asked about not having kids, he responded, “You have ’em, I’ll entertain ’em!” Sounds like Ron is doing a bang-up job of this as well.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Ron: Most definitely by chance. I was on track to be a father, and then my first marriage blew up unexpectedly and pretty spectacularly. I was reeling for a while. Having kids was the plan, but life doesn’t always stick to the plan.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Ron: Not having children is something I made peace with a while ago. That’s not to say I don’t get twinges occasionally, but, after my breakup, I didn’t go looking for a mother. I didn’t go looking for anybody. I met a girl in an elevator one day, and everything changed for the better. Kids weren’t in the cards for us. That was twelve years ago. I’m glad I didn’t take the stairs that day.
LWB: What was your inspiration for the first book/series?
Ron: I’m the youngest of five children. My brother and sisters all have a bunch of kids. One Thanksgiving, we were sitting around the table and my oldest sister said, “You write everything else, why don’t you write a children’s book?” And then she added, “…but not one that’s all sunshine and lollipops. I’d love to find a book in which the kid screws up and has to deal with it.”
So, I wrote one. It’s called Suck It Up, Tate! I’m fortunate to count a ridiculously talented Disney animator [Michael Surrey] among my friends, so I enlisted him to make it look great. I was able to publish that one, and then was asked to write two more.
LWB: Are readers surprised to learn you don’t have children?
Ron: Readers do seem surprised to discover I don’t have kids. But, like I mentioned, I have a brood of nieces and nephews who I adore. I spend as much time with them as I can, and they supply me with a ton of material.
I should note that I have a dog, Maggie, who I need as much as she needs me. People see the way I act with her, and that’s when I get the “How is it that you don’t have children?” question the most.
LWB: How gratifying is it to hear “My kid wants me to read it to him every night!”? Do you feel like you are making a difference in a kid’s life through your stories?
Ron: My aim was to write books that would appeal to kids and adults. The messages in these books are lessons my father gave me when I was young—not verbally; Dad wasn’t a big lecturer. He led by example. I took what stuck with me, added funny characters, and the stories just poured out.
I have to say it’s incredibly gratifying when I get a note from a parent who tells me one of the books has struck a chord with their child or that he or she shouts out the title at the right point of the story. Books played a big part of my life growing up, so that makes me smile.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Ron: Most times I’m fine. There are times when I’d love to be able to be share some of the things I’m passionate about with someone just coming up in the world. I play my favorite records for my dog, but she seems underwhelmed.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Ron: I’m able to spend real quality time with my wife, doing the things we love to do together. Until just recently, when we got hitched, we were not tied together by anything other than the fact that we love being with each other. Plus, I can indulge all the creative stuff I like to do, including writing and performing sketch comedy with a great group of comedians I met at The Second City. That stuff is pretty liberating.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?
Ron: The only advice I’d dare give anyone is to be truly honest with yourself. I’m insanely happy with my lot in life. Don’t do something just because someone expects you to, and don’t turn away from something that drives you just because it’s difficult.
LWB: Are more books coming?
Ron: Kids frequently ask me if I’m going to write a fourth book—they’ve even gone so far as to suggest new stories! Maybe I’ll reread the first three books after this interview. Who knows where the next good idea will come from?
Suck It Up, Tate!, Cool It, Frida!, and Move It, Milton! are available in hardcover and paperback at RonHarnerBooks.com. Paperbacks are available at Amazon and BarnesandNoble.com.
~ "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."
