filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
After managing to make it through the entire winter dodging everyone around me who’s succumbed to one of the awful flus that have been going around, I’m now sick.
I plan to spend as much of today as possible on the couch, whining. Please feel free to whine here in my absence.
Last month I interviewed author Jennie Nash about her new novel, Perfect Red. Before she was known as a fiction writer, Jennie wrote a book about her battle with breast cancer. The Victoria’s Secret Catalog Never Stops Coming is a wonderful book and has been a big success for Jennie, but she doesn’t talk about it much anymore. “I didn’t want to be “Cancer Girl” anymore, she says.
When I meet new people, they usually ask one of two questions: “Do you have kids?” or “What do you do for a living.” Eventually either of these two questions leads to the same awkward conversation about Infertility Girl.
When people ask me what I do for a living, I happily tell them I’m a writer. The next question is always, “Oh, what do you write?” Sometimes, if I’m feeling particularly strong and confident, or if the person feels like an empathetic type, I’ll tell them about my book and this site, and that I write a lot about coming-to-terms with not having children. More often than not, I find myself offering a blurry answer about writing articles for websites, which is also true, but not the whole truth.
It’s not that I’m ashamed of what I do or the subject on which I write. It’s just that I don’t want my childlessness to be the first thing people know about me. I don’t want to become Infertility Girl.
When people ask me what I do for a living, I want to be able to tell them “I’m a novelist.” The only problem with this is that I’ve yet to finish a publishable novel. (And any of you writers out there will probably read between the lines that I have two full and two half manuscripts hidden in a drawer, not yet fit to see the light of day.)
So, a decision has been made. I need to finish my novel. This year. And get it published. Which means something’s got to give.
So, beginning this week, I’ll be posting to the blog only three days a week instead of five. Look out for me on Mondays and Whiny Wednesday on Wednesdays (I wouldn’t dare take that away!) Kathleen’s It Got Me Thinking… column will move to Fridays and there will still be guest bloggers making appearances at various times.
I’ll admit I considered starting a new blog about writing a novel, but even I could see the futility of cutting back on one blog to make time for writing, only to start up another blog! Just know that I’ll be taking notes for the future.
Is Life Without Baby going away? Heck, no. It’s just playing nice and sharing brain space with something new, and giving Infertility Girl the chance be Novel Girl as well.
Tomorrow marks the third blogiversary of Life Without Baby! Three years ago, I sat on the patio of a little café in Wine Country, I ordered a dozen oysters and a glass of sparkling wine, and I wrote my first blog post. My, how time has flown.
For the sake of my health I am writing this post from the couch in my office and drinking tea rather than champagne, but it’s fun to reflect back on the past three years and see how far the blog has come, and how far I have come on my own journey.
I’m thinking of all the people who’ve come and gone from the blog over the years, those who’ve stayed, and those who’ve become good friends. I’m thinking about the 808 posts, 359, 577 visits, and 5,594 comments that the blog has accrued, and it makes me smile.
So, maybe it is cause to crack open the champagne after all. In fact, I’ve decided to throw a party to celebrate. And as with any good party, there’ll be presents.
If you’d like your very own copy of my book, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood (or you’d like to give one to someone else) you download a free copy in whichever e-format you like from Smashwords. Just use the coupon code EJ59W.
In addition, several people have expressed an interest in the new Road Map to Healing program, but don’t have the resources to pay, so I’m also offering a Pay-What-You-Can donation option. Registration is normally $159, but this weekend you can sign up for whatever amount you can afford to pay (although, I’m asking that you consider a donation of at least $30.)
You can learn more about that program here, then if you’d like to enroll, please use this link, not the registration link on that page.
Both these presents are only available for the blogiversary weekend only, so if you want to get yours, please do so before the end of Sunday.
Oh, and if you’d like to bring your own blogiversary present to the party, the best thing you could give me would be to write a glowing review for my book on Amazon. It’s about the most valuable gift a writer could ask for.
So, thanks for all your support these past three years, and I do hope you’ll get yourself a present to celebrate.
By Just Jinny
I found out some great news this weekend. One of my very good friends is finally pregnant. She and her husband have been trying and trying. So I was thrilled and over the moon to find out that it has finally happened for them.
The news also brought to light another issue. How others expect me to handle the news of another pregnancy. Dealing with infertility sort of puts you in a position of always “handling” the fact that someone else is pregnant and you are not.
My friend, bless her heart, was nearly in tears sharing her happy news with me. It’s a bittersweet thing. She didn’t want to hurt me. I get that and I love her for it. And when I shared the news with my mom I could see the concern in her eyes as well. It got me thinking about how others might expect me to react to the news that someone else is pregnant. I wanted to help other people understand what it feels like for me to deal with these emotions.
I am not the type of person to cause a scene. I’m not going to fly off the handle in anger, or in a rage, or in a sobbing heap on the floor. That’s not to say that I don’t get angry, or cry like a baby…I just usually do it in the privacy of my own home. Being constantly depressed, sad, or mad about my “condition” isn’t an option for my state of mind. For me, the only option I have is to be OKAY and to keep going. Some people might think that makes me strong. For me, it’s just my reality. I don’t break down. I don’t give up.
But, I’ve been trying to think of a proper analogy to relate how I do feel when finding out about someone being pregnant. I want other people to be able to try and understand. And I found the perfect example!
Finding out that someone else is pregnant is like having a Charlie horse. It sort of creeps up on you, and then for just a few moments the pain gets so intense that you can’t move. You think it will never go away or get better and that your world will never again be anything but you curled up in bed with that pain. But then the pain does start to lessen, and gradually it fades away until finally you feel normal again.
That is exactly what it feels like for me. Of course, I feel a little pinch in my heart. Of course, I may be a little down and pensive for a moment. It’d be weird if the news didn’t affect me somehow. But, this thing, this infertility thing, will never bring me down for good. Childless or not, I am blessed and highly favored. I have a wonderful life, with a wonderful husband, pets, family, and friends. Infertility will never, ever beat me. And any pregnancy will be celebrated as it deserves to be. Every child is a blessing, even if it’s not mine.
Just Jinny lives in the wilds of West Texas in a love cottage with her rockstar husband, two dogs, and two cats. She blogs about her daily musings at A Girl in the Real World.
Can I just say that just because I work from my home office doesn’t mean I have more free time than people who work more traditional jobs with more traditional hours? It doesn’t mean I’m the natural choice for volunteer errands. And it doesn’t mean I’m the right person to go and pick up a baby shower gift for someone else.
That’s all I’m saying on this topic, but it’s Whiny Wednesday, so please feel free to be as verbose as you like about your whines.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I am so annoyed right now. Just got forwarded a link to “mommy blogger beauty tips,” and guess what? Every tip I looked at (before I stopped myself) applies to non-mommies too. (“Drink plenty of water”? Yeah, that’s original.)
What is the problem with calling this campaign “beauty tips for all women”? WAKE UP, you marketing “geniuses”! By targeting your products and advertisements to mommies only, you make me want to run to your competitors. I have more money and more time to spend on my beauty regime than a busy stay-at-home mother has, so you do the math.
Let me repeat: I, a childfree woman with a healthy salary and free time to follow morning and evening beauty routines, am boycotting you.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s tired of being ignored by mommy-centric media.
Have you ever wanted to dance for absolute no good reason? This feeling has been creeping up on me a lot recently.
Sometimes I feel trapped in my adult body and my grown-up brain. Part of me wants to break free from my stiff ankles and sore lower back and just do a silly dance. Part of me wants to let go of my dignity and decorum and run the risk of being seen to “show off.”
Is this childish or just childlike?
There’s a part of me that’s always been a bit of a rebel, albeit a law-abiding rebel. And lately that rebel inside wants to throw off the mantle of respectability, discard expectations of middle age, ignore the assessing eyes of the well-behaved and the socially compliant.
If I was a parent I would have to be socially compliant; I’d have to be well-behaved. Yes, there are many badly-behaved parents in the world, but nobody thinks much of them. Parents are supposed to be good.
But I’m not a parent, so do I have to behave?
That rebel inside me wants to dance. It wants be a little bit naughty. My rebellious inner child wants to come out to play again, and I’m not sure there’s any reason she shouldn’t.
My inner rebel wants to feel the syncopated rhythm of a life well-lived.
What about you? Does your inner child want to come out to play?
Sadly, I have no guest post this week. But you can change that!!
I’d love to share your writing here. Even if you think you’re not a writer, you have something to say, a story to tell, a point-of-view to share. And if you think you’re the only person to ever feel a certain way, I promise you, you’re not.
If you need some inspiration, here a few recent posts from Kathleen, Sparkling Rain, Maybe Lady Liz, Amelia Ricardo, and Robin.
If you’d like to share your story, please take a look at the writer’s guidelines for ideas and suggestions. If you’re concerned about privacy, you’re very welcome to writer under a pseudonym. And if you have a blog or website of your own to share, I’m more than happy to toot your horn.
I looking forward to hearing what you have to say.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
At 10 pm I was at my computer, reviewing my presentation for an early morning meeting, when an e-mail from the client came through. He had forgotten about an event at his kid’s school and needed to reschedule. Seriously?!
Now, I never want to disappoint a child and think parents should support as many events as possible. However. Four other people had cleared their schedules to be at this meeting. We all made sacrifices, both personal and professional, to be in attendance. I’d been prepping for days, and I’d turned down other work to get started on the project (lost money for a freelancer). Had I been in bed instead of in my office that night, I would not have seen the last-minute e-mail and would have shown up at the meeting location as scheduled, thus losing another day of work. What pissed me off the most was this guy never even apologized for inconveniencing the rest of us, he just requested that we “reschedule as soon as possible.”
It got me thinking about all the times I’ve heard parents use their kids as excuses:
I get it. Being a parent is exhausting, time-consuming, and crazy work. But I want to say to the people who overuse this excuse: SUCK IT UP! You chose this life, so take responsibility for your responsibilities. Either that or be ready to accept without complaint my excuse that “I just don’t feel like covering for you this weekend because you missed the deadline and it’s made me cranky.”
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She desperately needs a vacation, preferably one involving sunny beaches and fruity cocktails.
Mr. Fab and I are off to Hawaii this weekend.
Three weeks ago we decided we could use a weekend away. We have a ton of frequent flier miles to use, so we looked to see where we could go that wasn’t cold and snowy, or overrun with drug cartel. Hawaii was it.
We flipped through our calendars, found a free weekend, and booked the flights. We found a condo, a rental car, and a hotel near the Oakland airport for the night before our early morning flights. Done. We’re going.
Tonight I’ll toss a bathing suit, flip flops, and a book or two into a carry-on bag, plus a couple of dresses for the evening, and we’re outta here. By the time some of you read this today, I will be horizontal on a beach towel, fully on Island Time.
For the purposes of this post, I gave a little thought to how this story might have unfolded if we’d decided to take an impromptu weekend away with a baby in tow. It’s possible it could have been much the same, right until the packing began, but once I reached the part where I’m juggling a baby, a stroller, a car seat, and three suitcases of paraphernalia through the airport, I stopped trying to imagine what my “dream” life would have been like.
I’m in no denial about the many wonderful things I won’t get to experience because I don’t have children, but nor am I going to lie to myself or anyone else about the silver linings that have come along too.
My impromptu trip is definitely one of them.
~ "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."
