Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About the Many Faces of Courage

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

IGMTAs you may already be aware, from reading other bloggers’ posts, I had the privilege of joining six other amazing women in Vancouver recently for the first-ever gathering of the Global Sisterhood. (Lisa, Pamela, Cathy, and Sarah, Part I and Part II, have all shared their experiences on their sites, if you’d like to read more.) It was flattering and humbling to be included in this group, and it took me a while to process my experiences with them and my takeaway.

Vanc Child Fest signFirst, I have to share something funny. Upon arriving on Granville Island, I was greeted by signs—and posters, banners, balloons—announcing (wait for it) “Vancouver International Children’s Festival!” I cannot make this stuff up. The first-ever summit of The Global Sisterhood of women who are childfree-not-by-choice and we shared the weekend with hordes of parents and so-adorable-I-could-eat-them-up children. As I laughed out loud at the absurdity, I had to acknowledge how far I’ve come in my healing journey. I mean, really, of all the islands, in all the world….

Second, it was more than a little scary to head into this group knowing I was, yet again, an outsider. Yes, I am childfree-not-by-choice, but I’m also the only one who is childfree for reasons other than medical infertility. Would they relate to me? Would they hear me? Would they dismiss me? Would I be able to freely share my story and not be judged? Sounds familiar, doesn’t it. So what a relief, really, to quickly discover how open, accepting, loving, compassionate, funny, candid, supportive, strong, and courageous they all are. Each has faced her own demons and has chosen to publicly share her journey in an effort to help others around the world. That just blows my mind. Although our stories differ in the details, our intentions of transforming our private pain into encouragement for others are much the same. I came to think of them as my “warrior sisters.”

I was particularly struck by the courage of two women. One is “S”, who read about our planned gathering and asked if she could stop by. S is not a blogger. She is not someone who has bared her soul and her pain to a global audience. But she stepped out of her comfort zone to meet with us, to share a bit of her story, and to, I hope, take away some hope and inspiration. When we met for the first time, tears flowed—of recognition, of compassion, of relief. Even though I didn’t know her story, I knew what it took for her to show up. Early in my journey, I opted to stay home and suffer in solitude; I wasn’t nearly as brave as she was. So, brava, S!

Then there was “A”, the woman who planted the seed for our gathering and saw it to full bloom. She also is not a blogger, instead she describes herself as a “lurker,” someone who reads the various posts, takes what feeds her, occasionally comments. I feel she represents so many of our readers, and she reminds me that what we offer on Life Without Baby reaches women all over the world who may never reveal themselves. And that’s okay. In fact, I think it’s fantastic. I hope, if you are a lurker in any way, that you continue to find inspiration and support through the posts, comments, forums, and stories that are shared.

Now, I’d like to introduce you to one more brave woman. You know her well. You know her story, her journey, her fears and her doubts, her broken dreams, and her hopes for a happy future. And you know what it has taken for her to search for and find this site, to be open to the messages she might glean from the posts and comments, to uncover her vulnerable heart in hopes of one day healing. Take a look in the mirror: She’s you. Yes, you. Brava, my warrior sister.

Today, no matter where you are on your path of making peace with being childfree, I hope you give yourself some credit for how far you’ve come. You’re showing up and participating. You’re opening yourself up to learning and growing and surviving and some day thriving. That’s a very courageous thing to do, and I’m so glad you’re here on this journey with me.

 

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

 

 

Guest Post: Perspective

By Jill B.

Quite frankly being a friend is sometimes too much effort.  Friendships take time and energy and when you’ve lots of things on your plate, they often move further down the ‘To Do” list.

But I’ve been reminded recently about the value of those friendships and how nurturing them, even just a little bit, can reap the most beautiful rewards.

In October 2009 I was diagnosed with cervical cancer.  Now, don’t get me wrong, it came as a huge shock, it was horrible at times, and very stressful.  But two years on I am cured and, compared to what many people go through, it was a walk in the park.

Around that same time a friend was diagnosed with lung cancer.  A healthy living, non-smoking vegetarian, a loving mother to a three-year old boy, a trusted friend, an honest and caring giver, a wonderful cook, one of the most fun people I know.  Sadly, she passed away earlier this year at the age of only 42 leaving her beautiful boy to know her through our memories and stories.

I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve wanted to call her in the last few months; just for a chat, to ask her opinion, to get that recipe for melt-in-the-mouth-5-hour-roast-lamb, to ask her about the places she travelled, to share a laugh but most of all to tell her just how much I love her and how much she made a difference in my life.

I was “brave.” I told her how much I loved her before it was too late, but how many of us don’t?

Since her diagnosis (and mine) and especially since losing her, I’ve made sure that I say those three magic words to the people who really matter.  Sometimes it’s hard, because some people don’t know how to react, but mostly, I’ve received the heartiest hug and to hear those magical four words back – “I love you too.”

Having cancer certainly taught me who my real friends are, and I’m sad to say that I’ve said “farewell” to a few folk in the last couple of years.  It’s always a difficult decision to choose to end a friendship whether actively or simply to let it drift away, but there simply isn’t time enough to maintain a friendship with every great person that you meet.

I’ve recently returned home to Scotland from my dream holiday visiting the fantastic national parks of southwest USA.  Whilst I was there I managed to meet up with my oldest school friend in Las Vegas.  She has lived in the US for almost 20 years and our contact in that time has been sporadic.  We were in grave danger of drifting apart.  But when she emailed to say that she and her husband would love to meet up with us in Vegas, wild horses wouldn’t have stopped me.

It was the best time of our holiday.  Seeing the Grand Canyon was truly awesome, but wrapping my arms around my childhood friend and receiving a hearty hug back is beyond description.  The two days we spent together felt wonderful and like I was 15 again (well 15 again but with serious jet lag).  We couldn’t remember how or when we met but we can’t remember a time before we knew each other.  A really magical time.

So, now I’m home, what am I going to do about my friendships – the ones that really matter? Refreshed and renewed, I’ve been calling, emailing and lunching in a frenzy with the folks close to home, and less than a week after returning home from the USA, I’ve booked a flight to California to see my friend again.

She is over the moon and we’re planning what we’re going to do together already.  It seems silly that I’ve neglected this friendship for so long.  When I see her in six weeks time, I’m going to give her a big hug and say those three magic words.

Jill B. lives childfree in Scotland. She loves to travel to see beautiful places and good friends.