filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
It’s Whiny Wednesday, your opportunity to rant on a theme.
This week’s topic has been brought up by several readers:
Feeling that you’re expected to carry a disproportionate responsibility for the care of aging parents because you don’t have children to worry about.
Feel free to add your own whines, too.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s impossible to put on mascara when you can’t stop crying.
I learned this little truism the day after we put our sweet 14-year-old dog to sleep. I’d spent the day intermittently sobbing and whimpering—set off by her empty bowl, her favorite spot in my office, now vacant, and tiny reminders of my everyday companion. I had pushed off most work-related tasks, but still had to pull myself together for an evening event I needed to attend. With a lot of deep breathing, as well as promises to myself that I could continue crying my eyes out later, I managed to make myself presentable.
I’m not new to devastating losses. Almost daily, I still think of the best friend who died tragically when she was just 20, my beloved grandmother and “hot date” for movies who passed in 1993, and my father-in-law who left us before he could be an honored guest at our wedding. But the outpouring of emotions I experienced after losing Scout was a new breed of grief. Guilt, gratitude, longing, regret, relief, loneliness, heartache. At times it consumed me, as, I think, it should. And that got me thinking….
As a woman who is childfree by circumstances, I have never fully grieved the loss of my dream of motherhood. For 25 years or so, I’ve been in this crazy dance between longing and hoping, praying and wishing, denial, regret, jealousy, despair, having faith and losing faith. I used to beg God for a neon sign—seriously—a message so clear that said either “You will have children, so stick it out!” or “You aren’t going to have children. Get on with your life!” And the years went by. And the years went by. And here I am. I am childfree by circumstance (don’t you dare accuse me of making a “choice”), and I describe myself as “mostly at peace” with my status. But there are days when I still think “What if….”
I won’t trivialize the pain of our sisters who are childfree by infertility. I’ve held too many friends and sobbed with them over miscarriages, failed IVF treatments, and the loss of their dreams, and I know too well that their paths are filled with heartbreak. But because LWB is a place where we can safely share our deepest hurts, please allow me to say that there are times when I’ve envied their ability to grieve. My friends had defining moments when they could let it all out, when they could ask for support, when support was offered even when it was not asked for. Think of my journey like the quiet drip-drip of a faucet; it’s imperceptible, so no one calls in the plumber, but over time it causes the same amount of catastrophic damage as a flood. I have never had a moment of finality, never experienced that intense period of grief, and on some very deep and possibly damaged level, I wish I could.
Selfish? Perhaps. But hear me out. I know that grieving is necessary. The sobbing period winds down, you put your experiences into perspective, and then you move on. For I so would like to be able to move on. I want to embrace this path I’ve been given and find new purpose in my life. I’d like to feel that the wanderings of my childbearing years were not just wasted time. And I fear that, if I skip past the crucial grieving phase, I’ll never get to the phase of accepting and, ultimately, to that day when I can feel content with my circumstances.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Although she came from a very close extended family, Karin didn’t really think about motherhood until she experienced infertility in her early 30s. Then it became a “dream.” Now 41, she and her husband of 19 years find themselves in a place of mostly acceptance, but she feels somewhat alone in her concerns about the future. If you can relate, please reach out to her—to all of us—in the Comments.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Karin: We were first childfree by chance and now it’s by circumstance. After years of unexplained infertility, various drug treatments, one horrific miscarriage, and lots of ovulation kits, my husband and I decided to stop trying for children. At that point, I began a very intense hatred of my body. My [menstrual] cycles were very long and painful, and as I grew older, they got worse and worse. This only intensified the self-loathing I was carrying around. It got so bad that the only option I had left was a hysterectomy. Knowing that I was not going to be able to conceive without massive medical intervention, and knowing that path was not for us, I decided to go through with the hysterectomy. It was the best decision I have ever made. I feel like I got my life back! Thanks to mindfulness training, yoga, and that surgery, I’ve been able to accept my body again and, more important, regain peace.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Karin: I’ve been in the acceptance phase for quite some time. I have a wonderful husband and a very fulfilling job. But the residual feelings of isolation and fear of the future are what dominates my infertility issues now.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Karin: The fear of who will take care of me when I am old. My grandparents were in wonderful assisted living facilities toward the ends of their lives, but they were still attended to by my mom and my aunts—everything from shopping for basic needs to handling the finances. I cannot think of anyone in my life now who I could rely on to help us in our old age. My husband is an only child, and my sister has only one daughter. I do not have the nieces and nephews that many others have and will hopefully rely on when the time comes. And this truly terrifies me. This is, by far, the most difficult issue for me now. I feel quite alone in this. I don’t think many other people who are childfree have this worry, or, if they do, it is not as intense as mine. Also, I am the only person in my immediate social circle who does not have children. I feel like all the feelings of loss and isolation will resurface when my friends become grandparents.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Karin: That I’m stronger than I thought I could ever be. You read that going through infertility will make you a stronger person, but until you actually feel it, it’s hard to believe. I’ve also learned to live life as consciously as I can with as much compassion as I can muster. Living a life with as little harm as possible toward others, including the environment around me, is rewarding and purposeful. I didn’t feel it this intensely prior to trying for children.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Karin: I say “NOPE!” And if they ask why not, I simply say “We tried and it didn’t work out.” That usually stops people. Occasionally, people will ask why we didn’t adopt, and I say adopting does not cure infertility and we believe adoption is a calling that we just didn’t have.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Karin: It was the first community that got it!! Besides Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos’ book Silent Sorority, what else did we have? LWB has been so incredibly integral in my journey that it’s hard to put into words. I would, however, like to see more information or discussion by others about being childfree in old age and the new dynamics that will come into play when we are not just non-moms but non-grandmothers!
We’d love to hear your story! Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Whiny Wednesday has become such a favorite on the blog and I know that many of you look forward to the chance to have a good rant about what’s on your mind.
For those of you who are new to Life Without Baby or maybe not sure what this Whiny Wednesday thing is all about, I thought an brief explanation might be in order.
Whiny Wednesday came about because many of us felt we were going through our respective journeys alone and that our friends and family often didn’t understand how much we were hurting. Many readers said felt they felt they had to put on a brave face around other people and that the things they wanted to talk about sometimes felt like “whining.”
So, Whiny Wednesday was created as the place where, once a week, you can come and vent about whatever’s on your mind, especially the things you feel you can’t say in-person around others. Most weeks I post a topic for discussion, but the comments are always open for griping about whatever happens to be on your mind.
So, now you know what it’s all about, feel free the have a really good whine this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
March is a funny old month for me. It’s filled with all kinds of anniversaries, both happy and sad.
March is the month I lost my dad (sad) and, later, my stepdad (also sad).
March is also the month I married Mr. Fab (happy). We celebrate 11 years this year (very happy).
March is the month Mr. Fab’s granddaughter was born (happy and sad) and quickly became the month we decided to stop the quest for a child of our own (very, very sad).
It’s also the month I wrote my very first post on this blog (sad at the time, but very happy now).
So you can see, checking off the days on the March calendar can be a bit of an emotional ride.
What I notice, though, is that with each passing year, I’m less sad about the sad anniversaries and more happy about the happy ones. Even though “time heals all wounds” can ring hollow in a time of sadness, I’ve come to learn that it’s actually true.
Five years ago, when I wrote my first post, I couldn’t imagine that life could be happy without children. Oh sure, I knew I’d “get over it” eventually, but I never expected to move beyond the sadness.
What I’ve learned from all my sad anniversaries is that the sadness gets smaller every year, just a little at first, sometimes so little that you barely notice, until one day you can talk about the thing you’ve lost without choking on the sadness.
The sadness doesn’t completely go away, but most days it’s so small I barely notice it.
What’s next?
Anniversaries of all kinds are a good time to step back, reevaluate, and look back at how far we’ve come.
When I look back at some of my early posts on this blog, I see a woman who was angry and lost, but also skirting the deeper emotional truths about what she was going through. And she was still hiding in shame.
Later, I found a way to write more openly about how I felt, and eventually I was able to gain insight into the effects of my loss and how I might have better handled my grief.
These days, I’ll admit that I don’t have much new to say. I’m still learning, of course, but much I’ve what I’ve learned on my journey has been channeled into the ebook series, which I hope will continue to help other women stepping onto this path.
Those of you who’ve been long-time readers (and thank you for your support over the years) will no doubt understand how something that once consumed every waking moment can become something you think about only once in a while.
I also know that new readers are experiencing this for the first time, and I want to maintain this community, because I know it’s one of the few places to find true support and to be able to voice what our friends and family often don’t understand.
Over the coming year, I plan to rerun some of the more helpful posts from the past five years, as well as new ones as they come up. There’ll be posts from Kathleen and me, and of course, I wouldn’t dare take away Whiny Wednesday. If you’ve been a reader for a while, it’s a good way to see how far you’ve come over the years. If you’re a new reader, I hope you’ll find these posts resonate with you.
And what will I be doing with all my spare time if I’m not writing new posts? I’ll be working on the final book in the series, due out in June. I’m also working like crazy on a new novel that I hope to be able to tell you more about soon.
And there are presents!
As this is a celebration, of course there are presents. Several people have asked me if the ebook series will be available in format other than for e-readers. The ultimate goal is to put all four ebooks together as a print book later this year, but in the meantime, I’ve created downloadable PDFs of the books.
In honor of our five years together, you can grab yourself a free copy of the first book in the series. It will be available until the end of March, and can you get your copy by using this special link.
The other two books are also now available in this format here:
Workbook 2: Getting Through the Grief of Childlessness
Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges
Workbook 4: Thriving in a New Happily Ever After (Out June 2014. Available for pre-order)
So, all that’s left is to say thank you for your ongoing support, for showing up here and reminding me that I’m not alone, and for continuing to support and help one another on this journey. I’m very honored to share this space with you.
~Lisa
By Lisa Manterfield
Recently, a reader said she’d had an idea to write a letter to the child she never had, and she asked if I thought it was crazy.
Here’s what I told her (edited slightly to maintain her anonymity):
“Writing a letter isn’t crazy at all. One of the things that makes our grief so unique is that there is seldom a finite end to the journey. There’s almost always some option still open, and the loss is more of a gradual moving away from the dream, rather than a sudden end. It makes it really hard to acknowledge the end and grieve that loss.
“Doing something tangible, such as writing a letter, creates a kind of marker that says, ‘this is the end.’ And the other ladies [in the group] are absolutely right about not holding in your grief. If you need to find a time to be alone, close the door to your room, and just let it all out, do it. It’s exhausting, but it’s amazing how much grief you can purge with a good cry.”
I told her I would write a post on this topic so that you could share your experiences with creating an end to something that has none. So here it is.
In order to start moving on with your healing process, did you need to create an ending with something symbolic and meaningful to you? Please share any “crazy” ideas that helped you find a stopping place and begin coming to terms with your life without children.
Be honest. Have you ever turned down an invitation to a social event because you’re afraid someone will ask if you have children?
That’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:
Avoiding meeting new people in case they ask, “Do you have kids?”
As always, the comments are wide open for other whines you might have this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
Last week I sat down with Tracey Cleantis to talk about her new book, The Next Happy: Let Go of the Life You Planned and Find a New Way Forward.
Tracey has long been a voice for the infertility community and many of you will know her from her blog, La Belette Rouge, where she talked openly about letting go of the dream of motherhood and finding a new way forward. Now she’s taken what she’s learned from her personal experience and paired it with her professional expertise as a therapist to offer a roadmap for letting go of a dream and moving forward.
The Next Happy: Interview with Tracey Cleantis from Lisa Manterfield on Vimeo.
Tracey is offering a signed copy of her book. If you’d like to be entered into the drawing, please just add #TheNextHappy to your comments below.
You can learn more about Tracey at TraceyCleantis.com and find her book on Amazon, Indiebound and other major book retailers.
Happy Whiny Wednesday! I hope you’re doing okay today. If not, this is the place to get it off your chest.
This week we turn to spotlight on the men in our lives and discuss the topic of:
Spouses or partners who aren’t dealing or healing
If you have one of these, we’d like to hear to about it.
By Lisa Manterfield
The third book in the new Life Without Baby ebook series is out today. In Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges I tackle all those issues we talk about here on the blog, including what to say when someone asks if you have kids, how to handle surprise pregnancy announcements, and how to get through social events and holidays.
I sent an early draft of the book to Kathleen, who offered me lots of great notes for improvement. In fact, one of her comments resulted in an entire new chapter. She said that while it’s important to cover the big issues that come up for us, one of the biggest day-to-day challenges, especially in the early stages, can be simply getting out of bed and bracing ourselves to face a world that seems to have shut us out.
I really appreciated her insight, because the truth is I’d forgotten what it was like to lie in bed in the morning and absolutely dread having to get up and face people. I’d forgotten what it was like to go to work each day being constantly on guard in case anyone said anything to flip the switch on my emotions again. I’d forgotten how often I seriously considered staying in bed and hoping it would all just go away.
I hope I’ve managed to tackle all those issues in this book, and I want to say a big “thank you” to Kathleen for her insight and for the amazing work she’s done editing the whole series.
Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges is now out on Amazon, along with books 1 and 2 in the series. If you’ve read the books and found them helpful, I’d be very grateful if you’d consider adding a review on Amazon. It can help really help other people find the books—especially those women in the early stages who’ve yet to discover that they aren’t alone after all.
~ "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."
