Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Letting Go of the Life You Wanted

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves;

we must die to one life before we can enter another.”

~ Anatole France

In these strange and scary times, this quote in a book about writing struck a chord with me. It relates to so many things in life, including making peace with a life without children.

One of the hardest stretches of my journey was the space between realizing that our options for building a family were running out, and the point where we made the decision to stop trying. I knew there were options still open, but they were beyond the scope of what Mr. Fab and I were willing to do. At some point we had to make a decision that we would not have children and that we would find a way to be okay with that. It was one of the hardest (and perhaps longest) decisions I’ve ever had to make.

I’m sure you’ve found yourself in this kind of situation in other areas of life, too. You know that you have to take a new direction, that ultimately it will be the right decision, but as France says, in order to do that, we have to leave a part of ourselves behind. Sometime the hardest part is listening to ourselves and not being afraid to make the wrong choice.

My first career was in engineering. I’ve made several career changes since then, trying to find the place in the world where I’d be happy. I’ve found it in writing, but it took me a long time to get here.

Many people can’t understand why, after all those years of college and graduate school, I would abandon a perfectly good and respectable career. I’ll be the first to admit that if I’d just stuck to engineering, I would probably have been more “successful” and definitely would be making more money, maybe own a home and live comfortably, but I know I wouldn’t have been happy. I might have been successful by the conventional definition, but the cost of sticking to a career that didn’t make me happy, just because it’s what was expected of me, didn’t make any sense. But it wasn’t easy to let go of that life and take a risk of finding happiness in another life.

Part of finding happiness is letting go of that which doesn’t make us happy. Although I believed that having children would make me happy, I was miserably unhappy running in circles trying to produce a baby that my body had no interest in creating. I could have gone on trying forever, but the cost to my mental and physical wellbeing would have been enormous. Letting go of that part of my life enabled me to find peace with my new life, even if it’s a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Just a reminder that, as Life Without Baby moves into the next stage of its life, the community forum will be closing down on April 8. If you’ve met people you’d like to stay in touch with, now is the time to exchange information.

Letting Go of the Life You Wanted

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves;

we must die to one life before we can enter another.”

~ Anatole France

I saw this quote in a book about writing, but it struck a chord with me. It relates to so many things in life, including making peace with a life with out children.

One of the hardest stretches of my journey was the space between realizing that our options for building a family were running out, and the point where we made the decision to stop trying. I knew there were options still open, but they were beyond the scope of what Mr. Fab and I were willing to do. At some point we had to make a decision that we would not have children and that we would find a way to be okay with that. It was one of the hardest (and perhaps longest) decisions I’ve ever had to make.

I’m sure you’ve found yourself in this kind of situation in other areas of life, too. You know that you have to take a new direction, that ultimately it will be the right decision, but as France says, in order to do that, we have to leave a part of ourselves behind. Sometime the hardest part is listening to ourselves and not being afraid to make the wrong choice.

My first career was in engineering. I’ve made several career changes since then, trying to find the place in the world where I’d be happy. I’ve found it in writing, but it took me a long time to get here.

Many people can’t understand why, after all those years of college and graduate school, I would abandon a perfectly good and respectable career. I’ll be the first to admit that if I’d just stuck to engineering, I would probably have been more “successful” and definitely would be making more money, maybe own a home and live comfortably, but I know I wouldn’t have been happy. I might have been successful by the conventional definition, but the cost of sticking to a career that didn’t make me happy, just because it’s what was expected of me, didn’t make any sense. But it wasn’t easy to let go of that life and take a risk of finding happiness in another life.

Part of finding happiness is letting go of that which doesn’t make us happy. Although I believed that having children would make me happy, I was miserably unhappy running in circles trying to produce a baby that my body had no interest in creating. I could have gone on trying forever, but the cost to my mental and physical wellbeing would have been enormous. Letting go of that part of my life enabled me to find peace with my new life, even if it’s a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Our Stories Update: Paulina Grace

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When Paulina Grace first shared her story with us in July 2014, she was, in her words, in a “dark, dark time.” I am happy to report that things have improved for her, and her story is now one of, in my words, hope and strength.

It’s important to me to hear these stories and share them with all of us so that we can have a sense what this whole journey to acceptance can feel like. We can be role models for each other. More than that, for those of us who have gone through the dark times and come out intact, we can offer support and encouragement with total understanding to our sisters who are new to the raw grief of life without baby. We remind each other “You are not alone.”

Wherever you are on your journey today, I hope reading Paulina Grace’s original story and update (following) will help you.

•   •   •

Paulina Grace spent five years actively pursuing pregnancy. Her arduous journey included three miscarriages, one hysterosalpingogram (HSG), one dilation and curettage procedure (D&C), semen analysis for her husband of 12 years, a couple of rounds of Clomiphene (Clomid), an intrauterine insemination (IUI), plus a round of shots. “Our next step was IVF,” she wrote, “and I couldn’t bear to go through with it.” She figured she faced embracing being childfree by choice (after unexplained infertility) or “complete insanity”. Here’s her story.

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood:

Paulina Grace: I wanted a daughter, one I’d name after my grandmother who died when my mom was young and my godmother who was basically the only grandmother I did know. I wanted a chance to be pregnant and enjoy preparing for the baby. I wanted to be called “Mom”. I wanted my stepson to have a sibling who was part him and me. I wanted both myself and my husband to be full-time parents and make all the decisions. I wanted to be spoiled and feel important on Mother’s Day. I wanted the chance to make up for all I didn’t get to enjoy as a child.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Paulina Grace: I’m proud of myself for knowing when I needed to get off the fertility roller coaster. I’m a more empathetic and compassionate person. At times I wish my life could have been different. Mostly I face the reality that I have a wonderful life without biological children.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Paulina Grace: I was just so sad and shut down all of the time. I went to an infertility support group and saw more of that. That wasn’t the vision I’d had for myself or the image I wanted to project for other women. After reading the book Sweet Grapes: How to Stop Being Infertile and Start Living Again by Jean Carter (there wasn’t much else at the time), I came to the realization that the only reason I was unhappy with my life was this new information that I couldn’t have children. I’d been happy with my life up to that point, so I felt there was no reason I couldn’t be happy still.

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

Paulina Grace: The future. Having children carves out a fairly defined path for you for at least 18 years! No need to think about anything else for a while. I also worry about when I get older and need help. I actively watch over and care for my parents, and I wonder who will do that for me.

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

Paulina Grace: Being able to support others from a new perspective. I take more time to listen to my single, married, or parenting friends. I meet them where they are and tell them they are doing just fine. I have energy to play with and spoil my younger nieces and nephews. I have patience and understanding to listen and spend time with my older nieces, nephews, and now teenage stepson. And I can still take a nap whenever I want to!

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Paulina Grace: You have to put yourself first and, if you’re in a committed relationship, your partner a close second. If you don’t know yourself well enough, you can’t know how to ask for help from those who love you. Your courage to lead an unexpected yet happy life will help someone else do the same.

LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?

Paulina Grace: Let life do its part. You don’t have to control everything, and trying to only makes the hard times worse. Try new things and meet lots of people. This journey has led me to some of the most wonderful, courageous, open, and loving women I’ve ever met. Don’t just focus on the losses, because there’s still so much to be gained.

LWB: Who is your personal chero (a heroine who happens to be childfree)? What about her inspires you?

Paulina Grace: Lisa Manterfield and her ongoing commitment to sharing her story and the story of childfree women everywhere. I first “met” Lisa via the blog around 2009, and her amazing book has a permanent place on my bookshelf. Her e-course and personal warmth on the videos and support calls helped give me emotional strength I didn’t even know I needed. I really can’t thank Lisa enough for being a light during dark moments.

•    •    •

LWB: Where are you on your journey today?

Paulina Grace: When I got this request to update my story, I think I was a bit hesitant to read my post, afraid of what it might bring back. However, it was an interesting stroll down memory lane.

I’m definitely embracing Plan B. In the last few years, I moved away of being an entrepreneur and headed back out into the working world. This was a huge change for me, and right away my first employer was full of pregnant families. It was the ultimate test on whether I had truly done my work. Thankfully, I passed with flying colors and even enjoyed the baby showers. I was able to talk to the pregnant moms with curiosity versus jealousy. I think they appreciated I didn’t give them any pregnancy/baby advice or horror stories. I also didn’t force myself to try and fit in, I let the young moms/parents do their thing. I was okay being me, and them being them.

A couple of years ago I did finally insist to my husband that he get a vasectomy. It was still a lingering issue on the journey. I was turning 40 and truly did not want the surprise of becoming pregnant. My periods also started getting heavier around that time, and it would make me wonder if I was miscarrying again. I needed to be clear mentally and physically that it was over. I needed my husband to take the step with me.

Interestingly enough, I found out in the last month I need a hysterectomy. While I won’t miss the awful periods, it is also a very final point in my own fertility journey, too. I do wonder if there will be an emotional point for me or, if again, it will offer a bit of relief to know that door is locked and the key gone forever!

LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?

Paulina Grace: I’m so proud of her. That was such a dark, dark time. I’m actually going through a valley in my life right now. Looking back on how I got through all of that reminds me how strong I am, how loved I am, and it gives me heart that I’ll get through this, too. I am reminded that the first journey led me to some amazing friendships, most of which I still maintain today.

I grew and evolved tremendously in those years. As I get older, I see over and over how we’re all handed issues we cannot handle and/or are completely unfair. Having biological children doesn’t stop you from pain. I even found a way to give my pain an outlet for meaning by volunteering for a grief camp for children, Camp Erin. I wasn’t there to share my story but bear witness to theirs. Watching them release their pain and start to feel alive again was one of the most emotionally draining yet uplifting things I’ve ever done. I’m no longer afraid of uncomfortable or taboo topics. The world needs people who can have those conversations to help us all heal together.

I’m still eternally grateful for Lisa Manterfield. She’ll always be an angel in my life.

It Got Me Thinking…About Being Fine

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When a woman says “I’m fine” to the man in her life, what she really means is “I am soooo not fine, and unless you are about to offer me jewelry, you better think verrrry carefully about what you say next!”

That’s a silly joke in our culture, but there’s a kernel of truth in it.

I was thinking about this earlier this month while I was at the last of a series of doctor appointments. For several months I’ve been dealing with some non-life-threatening but frustrating symptoms and have been doing all types of tests to try to figure out what the heck is going on with my body. When the last round of results came in, my doctor informed me, “Your blood tests are normal. Your CAT scans are normal. You’re okay. You’re fine.” And I wanted to scream from the exam table, “Clearly I am NOT FINE or I wouldn’t still be here telling you I don’t FEEL fine!” (He then said I just need to stop stressing, which naturally made me want to rip his throat out. But that’s a post for another day.)

Many of you have shared similar stories from your dance with infertility, in which doctors, therapists, parents, friends, strangers, and fertility specialists have told you there is nothing wrong with you, it will happen when it’s meant to happen, you just need to relax…you’re fine. Heck, it started even earlier for me as I stood on the sidelines in puffy taffeta bridesmaid dresses (it was the ’90s) and dyed-to-match shoes, hoping I wouldn’t have to wait much longer to meet The Love of My Life/Father of My Future Children. When well-intentioned friends and relatives assured me it would all come together at the right time and everything would be fine, I didn’t feel “good, acceptable, or satisfactory” (Merriam-Webster’s definition); I felt like a freak of nature.

Some times events play out and the new paths we discover are better than we had hoped (maybe just a little behind our desired schedules). Some times bad things happen and we discover as-yet-unknown strengths for facing and overcoming challenges. Some times really bad things happen and we have to dig deep into our souls to find peace and acceptance no matter the final outcomes. And it’s when we reach within, I think—I hope—that we find we will, in fact, in time, be fine.

Our Stories Update: Kara

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When Kara first shared her story with us in 2015, I was really impressed by her strength and her candor. In her answer to how LWB had helped her on her journey, she included that it was a safe place where she could vent. Can I just say how incredibly proud I am of all of us that we have created this for each other?

This year I’ve been checking in with some of the past “Our Story” contributors because I want to hear how they’re doing. I’m hopeful that their worlds have gotten a little brighter, their burdens a little lighter. When that isn’t the case, I’m grateful that here we can speak truth and support each other through the dark parts of this journey. But then, someone reports in that things can heal over time, and it gives me hope.

Here’s Kara’s original story, followed by her 2018 update. I hope her sharing the stages of her journey is helpful to you. — KGW

•  •  •

Kara, 34, was one of those little girls who mothered her baby dolls and younger siblings. “I always knew I was going to be a mom with a lot of kids,” she says, but circumstances led her down a different path. These days she experiences the all-too-familiar cocktail of grief, guilt, and anger, with hints of acceptance, as she and her husband pursue their Plan B. Here’s what she has to share about her journey.

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

Kara: Childfree by circumstance. After trying for 10 months, my OB/GYN thought it was because my cycle wasn’t regular. After we “fixed” me and I still wasn’t pregnant, my husband was tested. His sperm count came back zero and he was diagnosed with no vas deferens [a congenital condition in which the tubes that carry sperm fail to fully develop].

After doing our own research, we talked our primary care doctor into having my husband tested for Cystic Fibrosis (CF). He was diagnosed with CF, but in what is called a “mild” case. Mild cases are where the mucus builds up somewhere other than the lungs, usually either the sinuses (my husband’s case) or digestive tract. Because of his having CF, I had to be tested before a fertility clinic would see us. I don’t have CF, but I have 5T Polymorphism. For me that means nothing, that is just how my DNA is “strung” together. But 5T doesn’t “play” well with CF, and we would have a 50% chance of having a child with a classic CF case (in the lungs). That was something we didn’t want to do to a child just to be parents. We stopped the journey after only four years, and we already knew adoption wasn’t a calling we felt was for us.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Kara: I still go through the stages of grief, usually skipping denial and spending more time than I should in the angry stage. We’ve moved on to Plan B, but sometimes I feel guilty being there.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Kara: After meeting with the fertility doctor and seeing how all they wanted was my money and not caring how the process was difficult for my husband, we just stopped cold. They didn’t care that my husband was the one with the issues. We could get donor sperm and that would make a baby. I didn’t want any baby, I wanted my husband’s baby. After much prayer and talking, we decided it was healthier to stop.

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

Kara: Seeing others mistreat their children. Or parents complaining about their kids for selfish reasons.

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

Kara: Being able to do Plan B: travel around the world. Sometimes, when I’m in the angry grief stage and a mom complains to me about my travels, the best part is saying, “You got to multiply and replenish the earth…I get to travel the earth.” (Sometimes being the big B word is mentally healthy for me.)

LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”

Kara: It usually starts with a quick no. How sarcastic my answer is depends on who is asking and what stage of grief I am in that day.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Kara: It gives me a place to read about and to vent to others who know how it feels to go through life without children.

•  •  •

LWB: Where are you on your journey today?

Kara: Right now I’m embracing Plan B, which for my husband (of almost 13 years) and me is traveling around the world. Since 2015, when my story was posted, we have taken many vacations: Hawaii, Caribbean Cruise, went to St. Maarten, Panama Canal Cruise, been to Jamaica, another Caribbean Cruise, been to Miami and the Florida Keys, a Baltic Sea cruise, a Bahama Cruise, and in a couple months we will be doing a Mediterranean Cruise. We really enjoy cruising, but we also like to go to all-inclusive resorts, especially resorts like Sandals—no one under 18 is allowed.

In the summers I get my child “fix” by tutoring and babysitting. This year I’m really looking forward to school starting so they all go back to school and I can have my quiet time back. Most days I’m doing pretty good. The only time I feel sad about not having children is Christmas. While on vacation, when I’m relaxing having fun doing what we are doing, I notice how exhausted the parents look with dragging their kids around. And most of the time I’m glad that isn’t me. I want to enjoy my vacations.

LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2015?

Kara: I would say that the pain passes, things get better. I was only on the baby/infertility crazy train for four years. I am a fast mover when it comes to making decisions like this. Four years might seem like a long time to some, but I’ve known people who have been on it for 10 to 15 years. Usually I’m not sad, I’m mad. And not even mad at the situation or God, but at people and how they can be cruel with their unthinking words or even intentionally mean words. Now, at 38, I’m not afraid to speak up and tell people how I feel or to back off,  because it is none of their business.

 

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. Like Kara, you’ll find a safe place to “vent to others who know how it feels to go through life without children.” Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

Letting Go of the Life You Wanted

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves;

we must die to one life before we can enter another.”

~ Anatole France

I saw this quote in a book about writing, but it struck a chord with me. It relates to so many things in life, including making peace with a life with out children.

One of the hardest stretches of my journey was the space between realizing that our options for building a family were running out, and the point where we made the decision to stop trying. I knew there were options still open, but they were beyond the scope of what Mr. Fab and I were willing to do. At some point we had to make a decision that we would not have children and that we would find a way to be okay with that. It was one of the hardest (and perhaps longest) decisions I’ve ever had to make.

I’m sure you’ve found yourself in this kind of situation in other areas of life, too. You know that you have to take a new direction, that ultimately it will be the right decision, but as France says, in order to do that, we have to leave a part of ourselves behind. Sometime the hardest part is listening to ourselves and not being afraid to make the wrong choice.

My first career was in engineering. I’ve made several career changes since then, trying to find the place in the world where I’d be happy. I’ve found it in writing, but it took me a long time to get here.

Many people can’t understand why, after all those years of college and graduate school, I would abandon a perfectly good and respectable career. I’ll be the first to admit that if I’d just stuck to engineering, I would probably have been more “successful” and definitely would be making more money, maybe own a home and live comfortably, but I know I wouldn’t have been happy. I might have been successful by the conventional definition, but the cost of sticking to a career that didn’t make me happy, just because it’s what was expected of me, didn’t make any sense. But it wasn’t easy to let go of that life and take a risk of finding happiness in another life.

Part of finding happiness is letting go of that which doesn’t make us happy. Although I believed that having children would make me happy, I was miserably unhappy running in circles trying to produce a baby that my body had no interest in creating. I could have gone on trying forever, but the cost to my mental and physical wellbeing would have been enormous. Letting go of that part of my life enabled me to find peace with my new life, even if it’s a life I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Our Stories Update: Justine

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

It’s been four years since Justine first shared her story with us. I remember reading it for the first time and feeling in awe of the strength she had to state “I will always be a mother,” and how she defined that. Today she continues to impress me with her courage, her candor, her grace as she lives her life.

Her original story, first posted in June of 2014, appears below, followed by her update. The words of encouragement she now offers to her younger self inspire me, and I hope they will inspire you too.

•   •   •

Serious back problems (including surgeries and a year spent in a body cast) in her youth caused Justine to never be able to carry a pregnancy, so she didn’t think much about becoming a mother. Then the gestational surrogacy option became a media darling, and she started to think about new possibilities for creating a family. Justine and her husband endured two rounds of IVF, two transfers, and the loss of three potential babies. She’s 34 now. They have stopped all treatments, know that adoption is not an option, and are actively working to accept a childfree life together. Here’s some of her story.

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

Justine: Always fighting this feeling of not belonging. In every sense of the traditional woman my age, I will not belong because I am not a mother. However, I have learned that I will always belong, even when I do not feel I fit in, because that is my right and worthiness.

LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?

Justine: That I will always be a mother. I mother and parent my dogs. I mother and parent my clients as a therapist. I mother and parent all the children in my life. I just mother and parent in a different way, and in a lot of ways, I have a bigger audience than I would have if I’d had my own children. I also get to have different—not necessarily better, but just different—relationships with all of the children in my life because I am not their actual parent.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Justine: I’m a lot stronger and braver than I thought I was, especially in owning my story with courage.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, teachers, strangers) to know about your being childfree?

Justine: I think a lot of times we are considered to be sad and bitter women, or people feel major pity for us. I think after we do our work of recovering from struggles we can actually have better and happier lives. It took major work to get to this side. My sad and bitter moments are few and far between, but I have to stay on top of my recovery.

LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”

Justine: I hit people with the truth and take the teaching moment. I usually say something to the effect that we tried to have our own children but can’t. I might say that we are learning to accept a childfree life, but we have a lot of children in our lives through our friends and family.

LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?

Justine: Continue my recovery, especially getting stronger in it. I will continue to work on my blog, Ever Upward [see below]. I hope that it can reach more and more women and continue to open up the conversation to the other side of infertility.

•   •   •

LWB: Where are you on your journey today?

Justine: Grief is lifelong—I will have forever wonders of who my three would be. And, I love my life. Love it. Every day I do the work to honor myself and my three, living in the sacred space of the forever grieving mother and doing the work to make it all a gift. I am the best version of myself, and I got myself back, the better self, after this brutal journey and because I choose to do the daily work of moving through grief, loving myself and others, living authentically, and teaching it to others. Because I am a mother of mothers. Because I am a mother. Because, without a doubt, I choose to love my journey, hard parts and all.

LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?

Justine: Keep going. It will be harder, and most of all, more beautiful, grand, and better than you ever imagined.

Learn more about Justine’s work, her books, and her blog at her website.

Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.

 

Our Stories: Where They Are Now

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When we marked the ninth anniversary of this site last month, I took a look back at where I was in the beginning (bitter, frustrated, lost), how I grew and often struggled to come to terms with not fulfilling my dream of being a mother, and in what ways I can give thanks for my journey. For it’s made me who I am today: a stronger, wiser, and more compassionate woman who is at peace with being childfree, oh, let’s say 85% of the time.

I also wanted to hear from other LWBers, specifically those who were early contributors to the Our Stories column, so I’ve been reaching out and asking: “Where are you on your journey and how are you today?”

The answers have been as different as the women themselves. I’ve heard tales of emotional see-saws, of being excited for a new Plan B one day and a puddle of regret and disappointment the next (pregnancy announcements and baby showers continue to rub salt in mostly healed wounds). I’ve heard about health issues, some that stemmed from treatments, that continue to challenge even the most resilient among us. I’ve heard from women who have blossomed in the years since we first got to know them, who have pursued their intentions of traveling more, being more aware of their blessings, and thriving in ways beyond what they could have imagined.

As I expected, a few women have dropped off the grid, and that may have happened for any number of reasons. Wherever they are on their journeys, I wish them well. One woman I hadn’t heard from in a while did reply, although she was somewhat uncomfortable about updating me because, a few months after her story was posted, she got what so many of us wanted: a miracle pregnancy that resulted in a healthy miracle baby. My heart expanded with her good news and I am genuinely thrilled for her, in large part because I know of her earlier sorrows and sacrifices. I feel deeply grateful that we at LWB could be here for her when her life path looked quite different.

One woman opted not to re-run her story, but she offered this as she reflected on her journey thus far:

“I remember the darkest moments I went through. Sobbing, pleading and screaming at God. If I could say something to myself in 2014, I would tell myself to hold on. Hold on to your husband, hold on to who you are, hold on to the love that does exist in your life. We are more than our fertility status. We still deserve love, and we have a lot to give the world.”

That’s what I want to say to you today: Hold on. If you are in a dark place and feel like you’re drowning in grief, reach out to your LWB sisters—through comments, through the forums, through just reading the posts and stories and knowing we get it. You are not alone! Hold on to us. Together, I believe, we’ll help each other up and onward toward healing.

One other thing I hear repeatedly from LWBers who contributed to Our Stories is what a healing experience it was for them. Even if you don’t submit your story for posting, consider answering the questions for yourself. You’ll find the questionnaire here.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Accepting Good Intentions

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

“Congratulations!”

I cocked my head in the universal gesture for Huh?

“I see you’re here for your first prenatal visit!”

“Um…no. Pretty sure I’m not.”

“Yes, it says so in the computer.”

“Pretty sure your computer is wrong.”

I’ve joked for years that my life is like a sit-com, and this vignette was a prime example. What started out as a routine annual physical (weight, blood pressure, checking my heart and lungs) had turned into a farce because someone at a call center had checked a wrong box and the receptionist felt compelled to announce it to every living soul in the packed waiting room.

I easily could have turned this into a melodrama. I could have dashed into the ladies room, dissolved into a puddle of self-pity, and called my sister to wail about the unfairness of life, the cruelties of the universe. But there was no need to over-react. The receptionist wasn’t trying to hurt me; she was misinformed (not her fault) and she thought I had something wonderful to celebrate. Her intentions were kind, she was reaching out to me, and I’m sure she was gearing up to share her experience of her first prenatal visit when she was pregnant with the first of her three now-grown kids.

Under other circumstances, it could have been a lovely moment. Or it could have been an awful moment. I chose to make it an absurdly funny moment. Once we cleared up the reason for my appointment, I stepped outside and called a girlfriend who is also childless-not-by-choice. “You are not going to believe this…my life is a freakshow!” I told her what happened, and together we howled with laughter. Then we talked about how far we both have come on our journeys from heartbroken mama-wanna-bes to mostly-okay childfree women.

We’ve all heard our share of insensitive comments, and we know well-intentioned but ill-timed comments can be even more hurtful. I’d like to suggest that we humans generally have the best intentions to be kind to one another, and it’s my intention to try to see this good in others as often as possible.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods believes laughter truly is the best medicine.

Our Stories: M

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

M’s turning point came after six long years of enduring the physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion of infertility. “I wanted to feel like I was living again,” she says, “free from the ‘will we?’ or ‘won’t we?’ limbo land.” Having also “gambled away” thousands of dollars on IVF, she and her husband, E, made the difficult decision to “step away from the pursuit of a lifelong dream, knowing we did all we could.”

Making the decision to stop is one thing. “Changing my mindset from ‘when we have kids’ to ‘we’re childfree’ is not an easy or quick process,” she says. “I’ve had the ‘when I have kids’ mindset for 40 years!”

As their journey unfolded, M and E wondered where the other people like them were. So they started a podcast to talk about the scary and difficult parts of this journey, to include the male perspective, to connect with other people who are going through what they’re going through, that is, trying to figure out what a childfree life can look like. After you read M’s story below, listen in on some of their real, relatable, thought-provoking, and sometimes amusing conversations at How Did We Get Here? with E&M.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

M: I always wanted to be a mother. I dreamt about it as a little girl as I played with my baby dolls. I couldn’t wait until the day that I got to experience being pregnant, having a baby shower, decorating a nursery, choosing a name, and on and on. Throughout my twenties and thirties, I saw friend after friend experience these things, and I hoped that my turn would come. I wondered what our baby would look like and how they would take after their dad or me. So many dreams from pregnancy to sending them to college to their wedding….

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

M: We tried to conceive for about six years. My husband had an infertility outpatient surgery early in our journey, which led to a major emergency surgery, 25 days in the hospital, and more than a year of recovery. He came very close to losing his life, and the entire experience was very traumatic for us both. A few years after he healed, we decided to try IVF. After three rounds of IVF (one transfer, zero pregnancies), we decided to stop trying to conceive and remain a family of two.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

M: We decided earlier this year to stop infertility treatments and live childfree. I am in a period of grieving while accepting and planning our Plan B life. I do still have some anger about all that we’ve been through, and am not totally sure how to deal with it. I’m trying to be patient/compassionate toward myself, which is not always easy.

My husband and I are journeying through this transition on a podcast, How Did We Get Here? with E & M. This journey feels so lonely sometimes, and we thought a podcast might help us to connect with others going through the same thing, would be therapeutic for us and hopefully helpful for others too. (Side note: We make $0 from the podcast. It’s just something we do for us, from our home.)

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

M: “Mother” has always been a part of my identity since I was a very young girl. So now…it feels like a very sacred part of me is dying and the grief is hard to put into words.

LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?

M: Dive into the waves of grief; don’t try to ignore them or fight them. Give yourself as much time as you need to feel whatever you need to feel. There’s no timeline. I remind myself of this advice often.

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

M: I love the freedom we have to make decisions based solely on what we want. I love how calm and peaceful our home is—especially when I hear the kids next door being difficult, loud, or whiny! I love how much my husband and I appreciate one another after surviving this journey together.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

M: I am so much more resilient than I ever knew! Even when I’m overwhelmed with tears of grief, I feel my strength. I know the tears will pass and that I’ll be okay. Life has run me over many times, and yet I’m still standing. I’m proud of that.

 

How are you faring today? We’d love to hear about your journey, wherever you are on your path toward acceptance, 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 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.