Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About Nurturers

Girl ThinkingNote: This post originally ran on May 8, 2012 

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I can bitch with the best about how much I loathe the holiday that’s coming up this Sunday. I’ve spent past years avoiding church, restaurants, flower shops, TV ads, and, well, people who brightly wished me “HAPPY (you-know-who’s) DAY!” It was easier to hibernate than face painful reminders of what I am not.

But this year is different. This year I am embracing the second Sunday in May because a wise friend has transformed it for me. This year I am pulling out all the stops and celebrating because I am…drumroll, please…a Nurturer!

Here’s the message my friend sent out last May, and it is my message to you.

To the nurturers in us all: For helping friends in need, for compassion for strangers in pain, for helping children to learn, and for being good stewards of our world…Happy Nurturer’s Day!

If you are an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a coworker, a coach, or a listener. If you’ve comforted another person, if you’ve offered support or encouragement, or if you’ve shared a hug. If you’ve read something on this site and responded with kind words or sent up a prayer for a sister in need. If you’ve been any or all of these things, then it’s time you acknowledge yourself.

You’ve been there for me, in our forums, in your comments, in your presence here with us on this site. For that I say, Thank you! and Happy Nurturer’s Day!

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

 

Mother’s Day

heart-pixabayNext Sunday is Mother’s Day, the day that used to be all about showing appreciation to one’s own mother, but which has now become a giant mom-fest, celebrating the glory of motherhood for all mothers, and everyone’s supposed to get on board.

Well, not me. And not because I’m a bitter, jaded, non-mom, either!

Even before I had any clue that I would never become a much-lauded mother, I thought this universal celebration of motherhood was odd, kind of like celebrating a loved one’s birthday by saying “Happy Birthday!” to every stranger on the street. Surely the point of Mother’s Day was to acknowledge my mum, thank her for being a good mother, and treat her to something she’d appreciate? (Such as three bags of compost, delivered to her back garden, which is what she prefers over flowers that eventually die; she’s such the pragmatist.)

During the “infertility years” Mother’s Day was a nightmare. It felt like, for an entire month, the world was making a point of highlighting what I didn’t have, who I wasn’t, and what I would never be. When people wished me a happy Mother’s Day I wouldn’t know what to say. I’d just stare at them open mouthed, while in my head I was thinking, “Happy? What’s to be happy about? You have no idea the hurt and sadness you’ve inadvertently caused me and I have no way to make you understand.”

I think the low point of that period had to be the year Mr. Fab and I unwittingly tumbled out of bed and shuffled around the corner for breakfast at our local cafe. The servers were handing out roses to all the mothers there. When our server asked me if we had children, I shook my head. “Oh,” she said, and walked away with my rose. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so utterly desolate and ostracized in my life. After that episode, we made a point of only eating at home on Mother’s Day.

I know I’m lucky that I get to avoid all the hoopla because my mother and siblings live in a country that celebrates in a different month. I also know that many of you will be forced to go out to family events and celebrations, and put on a big smile, because the day is “about mom, not about you.”

If you need a little moral support and a plan of action to face next Sunday, please take a look at the Dealing With Social Landmines eBook. You’ll see it there on the right-hand sidebar or you can download it here.

If you’re struggling with moving on, or if you feel the need to commune with other non-moms this week, please join me tomorrow for a free video workshop, Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood. I’ll be tackling the subject of knowing when to let go, and taking the first steps. You’ll also have the opportunity to chat with me, ask questions, and meet fellow blog readers. Even if you can’t make it live, the workshop recording will be sent out the following day so you can watch on your own time.

For now, I wish you strength this week and hope you’ll make certain to be good to yourself, too.

It Got Me Thinking…About Beloved Teachers

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Tuesday, May 7, is National Teacher’s Day in the United States. Ever since the tragic shooting at the Sandy Hook Elementary School last December 12, I have been thinking a lot about teachers and all that they give to their students, from a listening ear to loving discipline to school supplies purchased with their own meager earnings. Virginia Leigh Soto was one of the teachers who gave her life at Sandy Hook. She was shot as she used her body as a shield to try to protect several of her first grade students. (Here’s a lovely article from CNN that recognizes all of the heroes on that sad day.)

In one of the many news stories that followed the shooting, I heard someone describe one of the teachers as childfree but “she treated all of her students as if they were her own children.” They might have been describing Ms. Soto. She was only 27 at the time of her death, so perhaps she would have had children of her own one day, but I would argue that her love for her students was independent of any parenting experience. That’s my experience of most teachers, and it is evidence that flies in the face of the old “you wouldn’t understand unless you’re a parent” accusation we all have heard.

As I thought back to the beloved teachers of my youth, I wasn’t surprised to realize that almost all of them were parents or would go on to become parents. Except for one: Mr. K. Both he and his wife were teachers; he taught English Composition to high schoolers and she taught elementary students in the inner city. Perhaps they couldn’t have children of their own. Perhaps they looked at their combined incomes and decided raising children wasn’t in their budget. Perhaps they both loved their work so much that they wanted to dedicate all their creative energy to raising good students. I’ll never know the answer, but I do know that they were both were respected and adored by their students.

Mr. K was the first teacher who truly saw me and my potential. “You’re a good writer,” he said to me on that fateful day, “but you have some work to do.” Previous English teachers had strongly discouraged me, to the point that I had given up and was just hoping to pass the required courses. With Mr. K’s encouragement and guidance, I worked my tail off to learn and improve. I am a professional, published writer today because of the seeds he planted and nourished.

Fortunately I had an opportunity to thank Mr. K before he passed away 20-some years ago, and I like to think his spirit has celebrated my successes. Next Tuesday I’ll be looking around at the other teachers in my circle—both parents and cheros (heroes who happen to be childfree)—and thinking about how I might acknowledge them. “Thank you for your sacrifices. Thank you for your passion. Thank you for loving the students in your care as though they were your own children.”

I invite you to join me in this little campaign of thankfulness for the teachers of the world. And, if you are a teacher yourself, I have a message for you: I appreciate you and all that you do.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

To Shower or Not To Shower

invitation - pixabayBy Solo Girl 

I have a large extended family; we have to rent a hall on Boxing Day so we can all get together.  And now all those sisters and female cousins are newly married and reproducing.  Every time a baby shower comes up I’m invited, and I wrestle with myself over whether or not I should be able to go yet.

I’ve always been supportive and encouraging with my family, happy to celebrate in another’s happiness.  It’s been four many years since my dream died, and I get the sense that I’m expected to be “over it” by now.

Unsure and not wanting family to think I’m selfish or emotionally immature, I went to a cousin’s baby shower about a year ago.  I mentally prepared myself ahead of time.  For example, I’m terrified of flying, but I know that there is lift-off, food, a movie and a landing, and then it’s done.  I thought about how there would be food, presents and games at this shower, and then it would be done.  I thought to myself “I should be able do this, even my own Mom is expecting me to go.”

I thought the worst part would be the games, but I was wrong.  It was the chitchat.  I actually got stuck between my mother and a cousin having a conversation on the couch about how all the women in our family have long labors.  Seriously.  When I got home I wrote myself a note in black marker and stuck it on my kitchen pin board where it still remains today:  “You never have to go to another baby shower ever again.  No one will notice; no one will care.  It’s torturous.  Don’t Go.  Don’t feel guilty”.

But a year later I still get shower invites and I continue to question whether I am – or should be – ready to attend now.  And I want to know, is it ever going to be something I can attend?  And what can I tell my family that will help them understand how painful it is to attend without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself after all this time?  They have high expectations of me, and I really do think they mean well.  I was in a deep depression four years ago, and I think they are trying to make me normal again.  I think.

I’m glad Irina Vodar is producing a documentary on the subject of infertility that some helpful social norms will come of it.

How do you handle these situations?

Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada.  She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Hug Deprivation

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods 

I had a great life. I’d started and was running a successful business. I had a tribe of smart, funny, and supportive women friends. I was healthy and fit. Furthermore, I was coming to terms with the possibility that I would remain single and childfree, and I was becoming more confident that I could create a fulfilling life for myself, by myself. I had everything I needed and I was happy.

Until.

During an extraordinary two-week period, I took care of my 15-month-old nephew, Jake, while his parents traveled. We danced, we laughed. He threw tantrums, I stressed about keeping the house together and keeping him from getting hurt. Everything was somewhat under control. Then one night, while I was in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, he came up behind me, threw his arms around my leg in a tight hug, kissed the back of my calf, then toddled back to the living room.

“Thanks, Jake!” I managed to get out before tears locked up my voice. A current of love surged from my leg and throughout my body as I sobbed into the soapy water. I was struck by the realization of how touch deprived I had been for so long. Sure, friends greeted each other with a light hug and peck on the cheek. It wasn’t even the passion of a romantic relationship that I longed for. It was the daily human interaction, the hugs and kisses, the gentle caresses, the genuine affection, the skin-to-skin contact, something moms get (and have even been heard to complain about).

At that time in my life, I had none of that in my home. What made me a bit scared was that I hadn’t even noticed. It had become my “normal” and I hadn’t thought anything of it until Jake reawakened the need in me.

When I got back home, I brainstormed how I might create more physical affection in my life. I ruled out engaging in one-night stands and, well, hiring male escorts, both of which lacked the “genuine” aspect I needed. I thought about scheduling more frequent massages. I lavished my dog with belly rubs, which helped some. Was it enough? Would it be enough?

The one answer that made sense to me was that in order to receive, I needed to give. I could visit elderly residents of retirement homes, providing them with conversation, attention, and gentle touches. I could become more huggie with my friends, especially my single friends. I could offer to babysit, giving my mom-friends breaks they needed and getting some cuddling time with the children who inhabit my circles.

Are you aware of this need in yourself? If you’ve come up with creative solutions, please share them with us in a comment. Meanwhile (and I know this is just a tidbit), please consider yourself cyber-hugged.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree.

 

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayWelcome to Whiny Wednesday!

If you’re new here, this is the day you get to whine, groan, and complain about whatever’s on your mind, on or off topic.

Another baby announcement in the family? Whine. We get it.

Working late again because you’re the only one who doesn’t have kids so everyone thinks you have no place important to be? Let it all out here.

Neighbor got his leaf blower on a 7:00 on a Sunday morning…again? Ok, well, that’s my whine.

The great thing about this party is you get to bring your own whine.

Join the Movement…Changing Infertility’s Vocabulary

NIAWThis week is National Infertility Awareness Week and every year Bloggers Unite invites bloggers to write on a theme. This year’s theme, “Join the Movement…” got me thinking about how my vocabulary around infertility has changed over the past years and how this community has facilitated that change.

Before I discovered my own infertility, I knew very little about the topic. I’d heard of people who “had problems” and new about some of the medical advances that were being made. I didn’t know anyone who was infertile, so I made assumptions about what infertility was like. Some words that might have been in my vocabulary back then are:

Sadness

Blame

Desperation

Others

I was sure that infertility was something that happened to other people and would never happen to me, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong, and I soon expanded my vocabulary. My new words included:

Silence

Isolation

Frustration

Shame

I had no one to talk to. Infertility doesn’t make for polite dinner table conversation and even the most open-minded people find themselves at a loss for what to say, when the “I” word comes up. And we all know that oftentimes people say the most insensitive and unhelpful things just for the sake of saying something.

I think the most unexpected part of infertility was the complete and utter isolation I felt. I didn’t know were to turn, what questions to ask, and I certainly didn’t have a female peer who’d been through the experience and could share advice or support. I hung around for a while on some online forums, but anytime someone “graduated” and announced a pregnancy success, instead of feeling hopeful for my future, I felt like a big, fat loser. I added new words:

 Broken

Defective

Useless

Incomplete

If I was an outcast while I was trying and failing to get pregnant, I felt like a total pariah when I decided it was time to stop treatments and make peace with a life without children. Even though I knew it was right for my husband and me, I felt like I was giving up, that maybe I couldn’t have wanted it enough in the first place, that maybe the next time could be the time it worked, and that I was walking away when I’d been so close to success. And I felt as if I would have to defend that decision because no one would understand.

 Weak

Quitter

Selfish

Kid-hater

Then I started writing about my experience. I put aside my shame and silence, ignored the fact that I’m ordinarily a very private person and even something of an introvert. I started blogging and wrote a book and now I’ve found myself new vocabulary about infertility:

Community

Compassion

Healing

Support

 I’ve even added:

Friends

Laughter

Fulfillment

Normal

And that last one’s a biggie. Because of the wonderful women I’ve met through this site, I feel normal. I don’t feel ashamed; I’m not a loser, I’m not a quitter, and my life isn’t meaningless because I don’t have children. I’m just a woman who went through a bad experience and found a way to get through it intact.

So, if there’s a difference I’d like to make, it’s that we change the vocabulary around infertility, that we stop pointing fingers (especially at ourselves), and that the conversation about infertility outcomes openly includes the option of a life without children.

***

If you’re new this site, thanks for stopping by. The Bloggers Unite challenge for this year is to “talk about how you are making a difference in ways large and small in the lives of people with infertility.” So, here’s what we’re doing at Life Without Baby:

  • We are a community of beautiful and compassionate women from all over the world and we are childfree-not-by-choice.
  • We talk openly about coming-to-terms with not having children and share with one another support and advice.
  • We have a members-only forum where we can talk to one other securely and in privacy (and we’re over 1000 members-strong now, so there’s always something going on.)
  • We have a small but growing library of free resources, including books, guides, and videos.
  • We offer workshops and programs to deal with grief, healing, and the what’s next?.
  • We even get together in-person sometimes with our newfound friends.

If you’re trying to conceive right now, we’re probably the last people you want to hang out with, but should you decide to explore the childfree option, we’ll be here and you’re always welcome.

 ***

Join us for a free event:

Tuesday, May 7, 6:00pm PST

Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood

How do you know when it’s time to let go of the dream of motherhood? How do you know if you’re ready to walk away and start coming-to-terms with a life without children.

In this free one-hour video discussion, I’ll talk about the desires and fears that keep us on the baby-making crazy train, and the desires and fears that can help us to step off.

You’ll have the opportunity to ask questions as well as talk to one another through a simultaneous chat function.

The group will be private and only open to registered participants, making it a safe place to talk about this difficult topic.

If you’d like to join me, please register here to receive access details and the follow-up recording, in case you can’t make it live.

I look forward to meeting you then.

Lisa

Register now.

***

 You can learn more about the disease of infertility and National Infertility Awareness Week at Resolve.org.

NIAW 3

NIAW 2

It Got Me Thinking…About To Do Lists

Girl ThinkingBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Back when I was planning a life with babies, I created two separate to do lists. List #1 was all the fun things I wanted to do while I was still footloose and fancy-free. At the time I was anticipating single motherhood, I didn’t want to have any regrets about what I would be sacrificing, so my list included indulgences such as reading the big classic books, watching all of Oscar’s Best Picture winners, and exploring different countries and sampling their wines.

List #2 included all the fun things I wanted to do with my children, such as teaching them how to make my gram’s Christmas coffee cake, singing songs around campfires, coaching their sports teams, and demonstrating the art of touching their noses with their tongues.

I cranked through List #1, confident that I was on my path. Aaah…but life is what happens when you’ve made other plans. When I realized that baby-making was not going to happen for me, List #2 became a source of great pain. It mocked me. And what made it even more unbearable was that for the first time in my life, I didn’t have a to do list and I didn’t know how to go about creating a new one.

It seemed at times that the fearless, focused, fired-up woman I used to be had gone into hiding. I missed the gal who had passion and drive, the dreamer who confidently made plans and optimistically pursued them. Who was this “new” woman and what did she want out of life?

I don’t have answers yet. I’m still in a weird limbo, knowing that all I need is a big dream to set my heart aflutter again, then I can go about creating List #3. Till then, my list looks something like this:

  • Pray
  • Listen to my heart
  • Follow my curiosity
  • Live in the now
  • Find joy in every day

Deep down I’m still that fearless gal, I just need to stretch my muscles and start using them again. And most of all, I need to trust that even if my life doesn’t follow my plans to a T, I will still experience something wonderful.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree.