filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
When a reader suggested this week’s topic, I spotted myself immediately. The topic is:
Staying busy to fill the hole left by children
Work, hobbies, school, projects, friends in need, volunteering: Have you packed your life with busyness in order to fill a gap?
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s on your mind today?
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I really thought I was healed, or at least was very close. I had mostly released what I felt I’d been cheated out of and was actively embracing a Plan B. I felt like a trailblazer, a role model, a success story.
Oh, how the mighty fall.
It was late on a gloomy, wintry afternoon when I came across a photo on Facebook of a dear friend, her wonderful husband, and their two beautiful children decorating their Christmas tree together. Something I will never get to do. One look at that image of perfection—my idea of perfection—and I lost it.
We’re talking throwing-family-heirloom-ornaments-in-the-trash kind of lost it. All the anger, bitterness, hurt, shame, heartaches, sadness, unfairness, why-not-me-ness I thought I’d worked out of my system came down upon me like a devastating avalanche. It was epic. It was ugly.
Fortunately, I got talked back out of my hell-hole by an understanding husband and compassionate friend. The tossed ornaments were retrieved, my body was hugged, my spirit was soothed. (But, no, I was not able to bring myself to decorate my home for merriment I could not fake.)
Humbled, and more than a little embarrassed, I took a fresh look at myself and again was reminded that the whole grieving-to-healing journey is not as straightforward as traveling from A to B. It’s crooked, jagged, with obstacles, speed bumps, and small triumphs followed cruel “family” holidays. Recovery is a process.
My friends who have battled alcohol addiction know quite a bit about what it means to be in recovery, and I think we can benefit from their wisdom and experience. When the temptation to slide back down into the deep, dark holes of depression and despair grows strong, when our resolve is weakened, when recovery seems like too much work or unachievable, we can borrow some of their slogans and tell ourselves:
Keep it simple.
Easy does it.
First things first.
Just for today.
How important is it?
Keep an open mind.
Live and let live.
Let go and let God.
One day at a time.
I now keep these reminders on my desktop, within reach for when I need a boost or in case I feel a new meltdown coming on. Perhaps one of them will help you today.
During the holiday season, Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a little less at peace with her child-less status.
In honor of Thanksgiving, we’re mixing it up a bit. Instead of the usual Whiny Wednesday, I want to ask you this:
What are you grateful for?
Often when we’re in the thick of grief it’s hard to find anything positive, but my Thanksgiving wish for you is to find a patch of sunshine this week.
Next week we’ll get back to whining. 😉
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I think a lot of us can relate to Sarah’s story. Following three miscarriages, she is now, at age 36, facing a life without children and struggling to accept her new path. When asked “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” she said, “Knowing what I am missing, imagining the ‘ghosts’ of my nonexistent children just doing everyday things. We only have one life to live, and I am never going to get to experience being a mother in my life.”
That last comment is just a dagger to my heart. I can feel the pain of her losses as I read the details of her story, and I hope after you’ve read it, you’ll offer her some sisterly understanding and compassion in the Comments.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Sarah: I always wanted kids. I remember how I felt the first time a baby fall asleep on my chest when I was babysitting. Now I feel like my soul has been hollowed out from my chest, leaving a gaping hole.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Sarah: Three miscarriages, all the tests, no explanation. Now my husband says he can’t do it anymore, can’t see me go through it again.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Sarah: Angry, beyond sad, torn between acceptance, and trying behind my husband’s back since he said no to IVF.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Sarah: In my head I say “None living.” I wish I could say it out loud. But usually I just say “No” and do whatever I can to get away.
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Sarah: My dogs are my salvation. I don’t know what I would do without them. I look forward to being able to be a great dog mom and spending more time on my own life.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Sarah: There is so much out there on infertility, but it’s always about people trying to get pregnant. I am so glad to see that some people are here saying they are working on living childfree. It’s better than dwelling on infertility. I have spent 20 years thinking about being pregnant and having kids. Here I can start to change the conversation.
Where are you on your journey? Are your wounds raw? Have you made some progress toward accepting a life without children? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Next Tuesday is Halloween, which for many of us means streams of cute children knocking on our front doors.
Love it or hate it; it’s hard to avoid it. So the discussion topic for this week is:
How do you handle this difficult holiday?
As it’s Whiny Wednesday, there’s room for your gripes here, too.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
The holiday season is right around the corner, and with it comes all the regrets, disappointments, slights, heartaches, and painful reminders we thought we’d overcome. Yeah. Right. Having been there, I know there will be some tough days when I’ll find myself sinking back into feeling isolated, lost, cheated, and, yes, crazy.
Fortunately, I (and you) have a role model named Lisa Manterfield, who frequently reminds me that I am not alone. She once stood where I stood on this rocky path, she survived…and now she’s thriving. And she shares her hard-won wisdom in her brilliant book, Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.
Lisa is a gentle and supportive guide, and she shares from her own experiences, from the workshops she’s led, and from the stories and tips LWB readers have passed along. She says this is the book she wishes she’d found when she first had to acknowledge she wouldn’t have children. Me, too, and as I read through the raw, real, and practical advice she’s included, I’ve found there’s something for every step of the journey.
You may have wounds so raw, you’re not sure how you’ll ever breathe again, let alone hold your composure during your nephew’s first Christmas. Lisa’s exercises will help you actively work through the stages of grief and arm yourself against social landmines, like the office holiday party when everyone talks about their kids. Maybe you’re feeling closer to accepting being childfree-not-by-choice, but haven’t the faintest idea what the heck you’re going to do with the rest of your life. Lisa’s got some suggestions for how you might thrive in a new happily ever after of your own design. And you don’t have to wait for January 1st to get started! Throughout, Lisa breaks open taboos and addresses the very real emotions and challenges we face every day, while offering understanding, support, and encouragement.
I know this because I had the privilege of editing Lisa’s book. After I finished the work, I tabbed several pages that spoke to me and highlighted exercises I wanted to revisit. Yes, even after all the work I’ve done to make peace with my given path, I still found there are some tender spots that need attention and resolution. Lisa’s book is helping me, and I believe there’s something in there that will help you too.
So, might I suggest the first item on your gift shopping list is one for yourself? Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle versions.
This holiday season, Kathleen Guthrie Woods is wishing for peace on earth, as well as a bit more peace about her childfree status.
By Lisa Manterfield
There was a time when I found it difficult to be around mothers of young children. It was hard to listen to them talk about their kids when I felt I had nothing to contribute, and it was painful to know that I’d never be able to share those experiences with them. I couldn’t bear to hear their sweet or funny stories, and it made my blood boil to hear them complain. What I wouldn’t have given for the chance to be kept awake all night by a colicky baby.
As I’ve progressed on my journey and begun to heal, it’s become easier for me to spend time with mothers, to listen to their stories, to speak up when I have something to add, and even to commiserate about the hard stuff, without feeling resentful.
I’m listening to what they say about motherhood and I’m hearing a common theme: Motherhood chips away at them until they lose touch with the women they once were. They love their children, they love being mothers, but they resent how all-consuming the job is and how much of themselves they lose to their families, until they know longer know who they are.
There are always two sides to every story, pros and cons, gains and losses. When we don’t get something we want and deserve, it’s easy to focus on what’s lost—the experiences, the opportunities, and the stories we won’t get to tell. But what about what’s gained? And what about what’s not lost? What about the sacrifices we didn’t have to make and the women we now get to be?
I may not be the woman I’d once hoped to be—a mother—but I know who I am now, and a part of me is grateful for what I didn’t have to lose: myself.
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Mari has been through the wringer, specifically the wringer called stage II endometriosis. While it’s considered a “mild” condition, its effects on fertility can be devastating and cruel.
As I read about Mari’s journey, I, like Mari, wondered how many other LWBers have been suffering from this. Is endometriosis part of your childless-not-by-choice story? If so, I hope you’ll share some of your experience in the Comments.
When asked “What’s the best advice you’d offer someone like you?”, Mari replied: “Follow your gut, do whatever you need to do to get answers. Explore all your options. And most of all, take care of yourself.”
Here’s how Mari took care of herself.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Mari: My dad died when I was 14, so my dreams of motherhood included having a boy and seeing my father in him. My husband has red hair, and I always imagined we would also have a little girl, with wavy red hair and freckles. We’d dress them in knit hats with animal ears and witty onesies. We would go camping, carve pumpkins, find a great sledding hill nearby…every season would have special moments.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Mari: By chance and circumstance. My husband and I had a lot of anxiety about parenthood, so we left it up to nature the first year. Much to my surprise, it didn’t happen. So I got in the game and tracked my basal body temperature, etc….still nothing. Meanwhile, everyone around me seemed to be getting pregnant without trying. When was it going to be our turn? What was wrong with me? Maybe this delay was just the universe telling us to go have an adventure while we can. So we took a trip to Japan, something we always talked about doing someday. I had hoped to conceive a “souvenir” while we were there. Shortly after our return, I decided it was time for fertility testing. We passed everything with flying colors except for what my doctor thought was a fibroid on my HSG [hysterosalpingogram] X-ray. I scheduled hysteroscopic surgery for removal, but it turned out to be just an air bubble on the X-ray from the contrast fluid. I felt like such a fool for getting my hopes up that this would be our fix, and for paying several thousand dollars for NOTHING. We tried IUI [intrauterine insemination] once after that, then decided to keep trying on our own since we couldn’t find anything wrong. A few times I wondered if I had endometriosis, but my OB/GYN wasn’t concerned since adhesions didn’t show up on the X-ray or in the pictures they took with the hysteroscope.
LWB: What was your turning point?
Mari: This spring I was at the outlet mall for a girls shopping trip. We went into a kids clothing store for my nieces and nephews, as we do every year, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk around and be reminded of my broken dreams, to feel my heart sink each time I saw clothing I would pick for my own little ones. So I hung out by the door, watching glowing mothers parade in and out, feeling so many awful feelings. Then the tears came. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to move forward until I had answers. I went to see the fertility specialist again who recommended laparoscopic surgery, since endometriosis makes up about 40% of unexplained infertility cases. My OB/GYN advised against it, saying I could put that money toward IVF. But I went with my gut and did it anyway, based on my history of painful periods and IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) symptoms. And I was right: Surgery revealed stage II endometriosis, with adhesions near my bowel and appendix.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Mari: We’ve spoken with adoption agencies and have had an IVF consult, but can’t bring ourselves to commit to what would be an even more expensive and emotionally draining journey. Stage II endometriosis equals mild endometriosis, so we’re back to leaving it up to nature, even though our chances of conception are slim. I’m fed up with hope, with bullshit miracle stories about a friend of a friend who conceived a unicorn by eating a rainbow. I just want to “be” for a while. To sum it up, I would say we are taking a break until our Plan B becomes clear to us.
On your journey, was there a turning point moment when you listened to your body and defied an “expert’s” advice? Perhaps you pursued a test that confirmed a barrier you suspected, or perhaps it was that moment when your body announced it was DONE trying to conceive and nudged you forward into grieving and acceptance. We’d like to hear from you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.
Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.
By Lisa Manterfield
I often refer to this article by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman about how not to say the wrong thing to someone in crisis. I wish it was mandatory reading for everyone, and I especially wish it came with a note explaining that it applies when talking to infertiles and the childless-not-by-choice.
The gist of their Ring Theory is that the person in crisis is at the center of the ring and those next closest to the person occupy subsequent rings. In the case of someone coming to terms with not having children, she would be at the center, her spouse or partner on the next ring, perhaps closest family and friends on the next, and more distant family, coworkers, and acquaintances beyond that.
The rule is that that if people have something mean or insensitive or opinionated to say, they say it to someone on a bigger ring. When speaking to someone on a smaller ring, they can only listen or—if they must say something—offer help, support, or comfort. No advice, no miracle stories, no blame or shame. No offering of their kids, no suggestions to adopt. “I’m sorry” is all that needs to be said. If they want to dump, dump outwards, not inwards.
I wish people would understand that someone who has just acknowledged she won’t ever have children is in crisis, and what she needs more than judgment and unhelpful help is for people to say to the right thing.
~ "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."
