Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Diana

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesI was so excited to see a new story pop up in my inbox. I love getting to know our members, and I’m always encouraged when I can see a bit of myself in their stories.

Once I started reading, though, my excitement turned to heartache and compassion. Diana, 39, has had a long and difficult journey, and today she’s still in a very dark place. I’m not going to sugarcoat this: Her responses to our questions are real and raw, and I appreciate her being so candid.

It’s possible she hasn’t been able to talk with anyone who truly understands what she’s going through or can offer real support, and that’s where we come in. The members of Life Without Baby have sympathy in spades. We’ve either been there or we are there, we know how it feels, and we are pretty good about knowing what to say and what not to say.

After you read Diana’s story, I hope you’ll take a moment to reach out to her in the Comments, perhaps to share how you’ve found some light in the darkness.

If you’re in a similar situation, please reach out for help. You can start by connecting with other LWB members in the Community Forums.

LWB: Please describe your dream of motherhood.

Diana: I have always dreamed of becoming a mother. Always. I constantly feel that something is missing and nothing can make up for it.

LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?

Diana: I am childfree because my husband is sterile. We found out two years after we were married.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Diana: After 13 years, I’m still depressed. I have anxiety attacks, and I am nowhere near accepting the fact that I don’t have a child.

LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?

Diana: My motherly instinct is stronger than ever, and I feel like there is a constant emptiness in my heart.

LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?

Diana: Absolutely nothing.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people to know about your being childfree?

Diana: Quit telling me to enjoy my life and travel and do things for myself. You don’t understand the emptiness. Materialistic things do not take the void away.

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Diana: Nothing. I have good days and bad days. I just go through the motions.

 

If you’ve been feeling that you’re all alone on this journey, I encourage you to read other members’ stories here. There is a lot of wisdom and support in the stories themselves and in the comments. Then, when you’re ready, I hope you’ll share your story with us. Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

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

Nothing is Crazy

By Lisa Manterfield

Furious womanI nicknamed my infertility journey “The Crazy Train.” It felt crazy because of the endless cycle of doctors and opinions that never seemed to get results. It was crazy because of the rollercoaster of emotions I experienced, one day feeling full of hope and certain it was going to happen for me, and the next sobbing my heart out because everything felt hopeless. And it was also crazy because of the things I told myself, the beliefs I chose to adopt to get myself through the mess, the potions, old wives’ tales, and witchcraft (quite literally) I tried in the hopes of conceiving.

But when someone referred to me as “crazy” for what I did, I took offense. Because nothing on this journey is really crazy.

Everything I did was something that was right for me at the time. All my behavior came out of an ever-mounting cycle of determination and frustration. And only when I met others like me who’d also been on that journey, and also thought they were crazy, did I realize how absolutely normal I was.

So, if you’ve been feeling like you’re losing your mind or if you’re wondering if you’re crazy, rest assured you’re not. Because nothing is crazy on this journey; it’s all perfectly normal.

Dealing With Issues and Protecting Yourself

By Lisa Manterfield

300px-Cnl03I’ve learned a lot from my experience of navigating the world as an unwillingly childless woman. I’ve learned that it’s not a straight road of recovery, where you get progressively better day after day, and where challenges become easier to handle each time you encounter them. It’s more like a wild slip’n slide, where you get up, fall down, make progress and sometimes get hurt—sometimes all in the same day.

When I first started trying to navigate my new path in life, I took a very cavalier attitude, putting on a brave face and telling myself I could handle whatever challenges came my way. I was strong enough, I thought, to volunteer at my local hospital’s NICU, to visit friends and hold their newborn babies, and to keep pretending everything was okay, when it wasn’t.

If I had to do it all again, I’d be kinder to myself. I’d take note of how I was really feeling, and treat myself accordingly. I’d understand that there are stages to the healing process and I’d assess where I was before deciding how much I could handle. For example:

Stage 1: Protection

In the early stages—maybe when I’d just made the decision to let go of my dream of motherhood, or I was feeling especially vulnerable—I’d take drastic steps to protect myself. This might mean saying no to events I felt obligated to attend and more-or-less hibernating during the most difficult ones. I’d know I wasn’t going to do this forever, but I’d also know that it was okay to put my own needs first.

Stage 2: Experimentation

In this stage, I’d start to step carefully out in the world again. I might have events I was worried about attending, but if I really wanted to go, I’d say yes to the invitation. I might not feel like being social, but I’d make an effort to test myself, to go out knowing someone would ask if I had children, and hoping I’d be ready with an answer. These would be the days that gave me hope that this would eventually get better over time.

Stage 3: The New Normal

This is the stage I’m in most of the time now, but it took me some time to get here. I’ve worked through my grief and found my own ways to manage tough scenarios. I can answer questions like “Do you have kids?” calmly, and I’ve found ways to reinvent the holidays so I can enjoy them again. I am a childless woman and I’m okay with telling people that. I can even answer them if they decide to ask prying questions or make assumptions about why I don’t have children.

If I’d understood these stages earlier, I might have cut myself a little more slack when my emotions caught up with me or I got caught out in a situation I thought I could handle.

What do you think? Have you moved through similar stages and was it a linear path for you, or was it more the slip’n slide version?

It Got Me Thinking…About It’s Never Too Late—Really!

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

IGMTAmong my darker days are those when I’ve wallowed in the belief that I’ve wasted my life. I spent my childhood, my teenage and college years, and the decades leading to my 40s dreaming about and preparing to be a mommy.

Joke’s on me, right?

Sure, I’ve had some fun adventures along the way, had some big career wins, made amazing friends, but I can’t help but think about what I might have done with those youthful years if I’d known in advance I wasn’t going to have children. I might have taken more risks (trained as a racecar driver), made bolder choices (I could have lived in New York—or Provence!), pursued different interests (culinary school, Taiko drumming, raising and curing my own olives).

As I continue to grow older (fortunately) and gain more perspective, I’m seeing that most of those opportunities are still open to me. And when I feel discouraged, I’m finding a lot of encouragement in the world around me.

Specifically, let me introduce you to Ms. Willie Murphy. In 2010, she started lifting weights for the first time in her life, beginning with five-pound dumbbells. In 2014, she was named 2014 Lifter of the Year by the World Natural Powerlifting Federation when she deadlifted 215 pounds. Did I mention she was 77-years-old at the time? (Watch an interview with her and see her lift here.)

video still credit: Lauren Petracca

video still credit: Lauren Petracca

And even though the world, especially the fashion world, seems youth-obsessed, take a look at the face of French fashion brand Céline’s 2015 spring campaign: writer Joan Didion, looking oh-so-stylish at 80!

photo credit: Céline Spring 2015 Campaign

photo credit: Céline Spring 2015 Campaign

“I never used the words ‘I can’t’,” Murphy says. “I would just simply say, ‘I will try.’” And those, my dear sisters, are words to live by.

 

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

Stuck in a Grief Loop

By Lisa Manterfield

Photo Credit: "Rollercoaster" Stevie Gill

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:

  • Get out of bed
  • Find support, whether that’s from your spouse, a trusted friend, an online community like this, or a therapist
  • Don’t deny your loss and grief, but don’t allow it to swallow you whole
  • Look for the positive things in your life and point yourself in that direction. Do you have a job that you love, hobbies that bring you joy, or other life goals you can work towards?

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?

It Got Me Thinking…About Procedures

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

IGMTI got cornered recently at a party by a woman who told me her husband was giving her breast implants and a tummy tuck as a thank you for having his children. My thoughts ran in this order:

  • This woman has no concept of what “oversharing” means.
  • This man is a genius! He’s given himself the gift of perky breasts while managing to convince his wife that it’s a gift for her. Well played, sir, well played!
  • Wait a minute…she gets babies and new breasts?! That is so unfair!

That last item got me thinking about some of the procedures I think I’ve earned for surviving this whole journey through childlessness-not-by-choice, such as:

  •  Under-eye bleaching – to remedy the dark circles I got from epic bouts of crying.
  • Hair transplant – forget covering the gray, I’d like to replace it with, oh, hair like Blake Lively’s.
  • Butt lift – hours of sitting around feeling sorry for myself has turned my derrière to mush. I could go to the gym, but I don’t wanna.
  • Tummy fat suctioning – emotional eating? Check. I could go to the gym, but see that last bullet.

I realize all of the above could be “fixed” with a simple ol’ fashioned attitude adjustment. I’ll get around to that, eventually, but today it’s way more fun to imagine the procedures—quick, painless, and free, of course—that will whip me back into shape.

Wanna play? What imaginary procedures do you think you’ve earned? Go crazy and have fun!

 

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

Navigating Workplace Challenges

By Lisa Manterfield
Young Businesswoman Standing with Two Young Business ExecutivesDuring 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?

Holiday Blues and a Celebration

By Lisa Manterfield

DSC_0026

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.

Holiday Self-Preservation

By Lisa Manterfield

Woman Giving Gift, Portrait, Blurred.Imagine you have a good friend who experiences a death in the family right before the holidays. She’s dealing with funeral arrangements and in among the holiday cards that people sent before they got the news are sympathy cards and notes of condolence. She has her loved one’s belongings to go through and her mind is anywhere but on the holidays. She is mourning and there is little or no room in her grief for festivities.

You understand this and so you forgive your friend when she doesn’t send a card or a gift this year. You don’t expect her to attend the annual get-together you usually have with your group of friends. Instead, you check in on her to make sure she’s okay and you let her know that you’re there for her if she needs anything. You both know next year will be different, that she’ll be back celebrating with you, even though this will always be a difficult time of year for her.

If you’re in the earliest stages of your journey, where perhaps your latest round of IVF has failed or you’ve just come to the realization that children aren’t going to be part of your plan, you’re also grieving a great loss. The difference is, most people around you aren’t going to understand why you aren’t in the holiday spirit and they’re going to expect you to attend events, show up with gifts, and contribute to the merriment. They probably won’t make the same concessions you would make for your friend, so it’s up to you to treat yourself as kindly as you would treat her.

If this year feels too difficult for you, consider taking the year off.

Seriously, what would happen if you didn’t send out cards this year? What would happen if you mailed gift certificates instead of subjecting yourself to the mall and all its triggering festivities to shop for gifts? Do you have to decorate? Can you make excuses for parties you don’t want to attend? Could you even take a year off from whatever family obligations you might have?

It’s just one year. Will the people you love disown you? Some might be upset and yes, there’ll be that relative or friend who’ll never let you not forget, but odds are, most will forgive and forget.

We often try so hard to be there for other people, to meet their expectations and give them the holiday experience they want. But maybe this year you could give yourself what you need instead.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayTonight is Bonfire Night in the U.K. As a child, it was one of my favorite nights of the year, second only to Christmas Eve.

We’d have a bonfire in the backyard, and my dad would bring home a box of fireworks to set off and a couple of packets of sparklers. We’d have baked potatoes and roast chestnuts, and my mum would make parkin and gooey, delicious bonfire toffee. It was an evening spent outdoors, clustered around the fire. It was about friends and food and a little bit of danger.

It’s one of the many things I miss about my homeland, and it’s one of the traditions I would have enjoyed sharing with my children. And that’s the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Traditions you won’t get to share with your children

Happy Bonfire Night and happy whining.