Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About Trading Places

Early in the morning one holiday, I was walking to the gym when I passed one of my neighbors. She was loading rowdy kids and sundry gear into a minivan.

“Off to the gym?” she asked, grunting as she hoisted a toddler into his car seat.

“Yup.”

“I would give anything to trade places with you.”

For a split second I paused, then replied with the only response that seemed appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

As I continued down the street, it dawned on me that for the first time in years I wasn’t feeling (a) judgmental (she was, after all, dissing her kids) or (b) wistful. So often in the past I would have thought how I would have traded anything to have precious kids of my own to play with on a holiday outing, but now, not so much. I was pretty happy with the prospect of spending my holiday taking care of myself, maybe even reading a book or taking a nap instead of having to read a book to someone else hoping he would settle down for a nap. I didn’t feel sorry for or envious of my neighbor, and I didn’t want to trade my grass for her grass. The grass was perfectly green on my side of the street.

For those of you in the U.S. facing a long weekend, I hope you have something fun planned for yourself—or perhaps you have perfectly nothing planned for yourself. May there at least be one moment during these next several days when you feel okay, if not thankful, that you have a day off all to yourself.

 

Whiny Wednesday: Traditions You Won’t Get to Share with Your Children


November is the month for 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.

Whiny Wednesday: Haunted by a Childless Halloween

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.

It Got Me Thinking…About a Social Media Holiday

A few weeks ago, I ran a little experiment: I took a break from social media. Six full days, in fact. That meant no checking Twitter or Instagram, no liking the comments posted on Facebook by “friends”, no suffering pangs of envy while viewing recent photos of impossibly cute royal toddlers, no keeping up with the Kardashians or anyone else of questionable famousness. I also mostly avoided online news venues, so bypassed updates about local stabbings, weather-related catastrophes, political mud-slinging, scathing diatribes disguised as opinion pieces, and the many bleeding tragedies that lead in the headlines.

It was not easy. I felt out of the loop, uninformed, and maybe even a little bored.

I also did not feel overly stressed or depressed. I sensed my blood pressure drop a couple of points. I swear I slept a bit better.

We usually talk about taking a break from social media around the big triggering holidays, like Mother’s Day and the winter holiday season, when family gatherings are promoted in advertisements and shared by friends and relatives in private missives. So often these postings are not heartwarming for those of us in this community; they’re more likely heart-wrenching. They remind us of all we’ve lost and what we’ll never have, and, dangit, it hurts.

So why do we can continue to subject ourselves to this onslaught? Good question. I supposed I could come up with a number of reasons, from wanting to keep in touch, wanting to be supportive, wanting to live vicariously through my friends’ good fortunes.

But this week I’d like to suggest we shift our perspectives from what supports other people’s happiness to what will allow us to heal and find our own happiness.

I’d like to suggest we try, every so often, to take a holiday from social media. Is this the week you can do it? Will you try it with me?

Oh, but one exception: This site and any of the others you visit for support on your journey don’t count. Stay connected to any community that offers you encouragement, love, and acceptance.

Let me know how it goes. And please be gentle with yourself.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Holidays for One

I’ve been cleaning out old financial records, shredding old receipts, tossing old files. In the process I came across a calendar from 12 years ago. I took a break from sorting to flip through the pages and remember weddings, first projects with now-cherished clients, and play dates with friends who have since passed.

It is so interesting—sometimes inspiring, sometimes heartbreaking—to look back at who I was, then catch my breath and acknowledge who I’ve become in the past decade. This hit home when I flipped to December 24th, Christmas Eve, and read the only two items on my to do list for that day:

  • Shop for dinner
  • Read

I felt like that woman stepped out of the storage box and punched me in the arm. I knew her so well, for some of her still lingered inside me. She was so self-protective, so determined to not be hurt again. By staying home (alone) for the holidays, she told herself, she was saving money for more important things, with no clear idea of what those things might be. She was avoiding the hassles of travel. She was dodging all possibilities of feeling the sting of being an outsider as “family” gathered to celebrate the holiday.

She was mostly successful.

The painful truth was that she would have felt lonely no matter where she was or whether she was solo or surrounded by other people.

If I could reach back in time to offer advice, would I tell her to do things differently? Probably not. That was such a tender time, when each slight felt more like a stab, when each off-hand comment felt like an insult. She needed that time to tend to her wounds, to build up her shields, and to be able to pull herself out of that all-consuming malaise.

Eventually she did heal, and I did reach the point where I could again be in mixed company for the holidays. Sometimes I’ve been able to join in the fun with other people’s little people, other times I’ve relished a quiet day of rest (and an excuse to spend a few hours reading) with just my family of two + dog. This past December, I joyfully participated in a large festive gathering with extended family members. “Joyfully.” Wow. Twelve years ago I couldn’t have imagined saying, let alone, feeling that word.

I share this with you now because we are coming up on a holiday this weekend, and the Big Holidays are close on its heals. This is going to be a difficult time for many of you, and I am sorry about that. I wish I could make it easier, but I know from experience that you need to go through the hurting and the grieving. My hope for you is that you come out on the other side less than 12 years from now.

If this is your year of celebrating Holidays for One, please be gentle with yourself. If this is your first year diving back into the family mix of things, be brave, and be gentle with yourself. Know that you are not alone and we are here at Life Without Baby if you need a place to vent, rage, and be supported.

It Got Me Thinking…About Doing a Fairy Deed

I don’t recall exactly how it started, but years ago I devised a strategy for picking myself off the floor when Life really really knocks me down. Some people might call it practicing random acts of kindness or paying it forward. I call my version of delivering surprises that I hope will make people smile “Fairy Deeds.”

Fairy Deeds come in all sorts of creative guises, from sending packets of wildflower seeds to friends (when I was bemoaning the fact that I had no space for a pretty garden of my own) to dropping off scratcher lottery tickets (when I was worried about how the bills were going to get paid) to wrapping up (in colored paper and a satin bow) a big package of Oreo cookies for a friend who had shared with me that she, too, had dealt with difficult losses with a note that said, “To remind you of the sweet things in life.”

The key to all of them, for me, is that they must be done anonymously. There is something about the adrenaline rush that happens when you’re making deliveries under the cover of darkness and the silly feeling of holding a juicy secret as you overhear a recipient sharing trying to figure out who the fairy is that completely lifts me out of my own malaise.

I’m thinking about Fairy Deeds this week because one of the deeds that was the most fun for me was done on July 4th, our Independence Day in the United States. Our country’s birthday was always a family holiday, one that included the gathering of close friends and extended family, the serving of favorite foods (homemade peach ice cream), and many traditions. As far back as I can remember, I looked forward to one day hosting my own family-focused celebrations, and well, we all know how that worked out.

On that original 4th of July, I had to work late and missed all the picnics, barbecues, and fireworks watchings I might have otherwise attended. Feeling beyond lonely, and nursing an epic case of self-pity, I faced the choice of going home and wallowing or…choosing to do something different.

I stopped at the market on the way home from work and picked up six ginormous watermelons. At home, I thought of people I knew who were also going through tough times, and wrote each a short note of encouragement. After several hilarious attempts with various types of tape and string, I finally came up with a way to attach each note: staples. OMG, I was already laughing at myself, so my plan was working. I loaded up the back seat of my car and headed out just after midnight.

Picture this: Like a thief in the night, I “canvassed” each home, making sure the coast was clear. Then I parked out of the occupants’ visual range, lugged the watermelon out of the back, and waddled (you try running with a huge melon in your arms!) up to the front porch. Quietly, stealthily (I was totally holding my breath), I placed the watermelon at the door, then dashed back to my car and, with my heart pounding out of my chest, raced to the next delivery. It was awesome!

I heard some of those friends later share what they’d discovered the next morning, and it filled my heart to know that I’d succeeded in doing something that surprised and amused them. There was no question I had cheered myself up.

This week, if you’re feeling sad/lonely/stuck, I encourage you to give this a try. It doesn’t have to be a big or expensive gesture, it can be as simple as:

  • Paying for the coffee for the person in line behind you.
  • Cutting some pretty flowers or herbs from your garden and dropping them off for a neighbor.
  • Leaving a box of donuts or bag of cookies in the break room with a note thanking your co-workers for being awesome people.
  • Placing lemons and a cup of sugar in a gift bag and dropping it off for a friend who’s going through a tough time, encouraging her to “Make lemonade.”

I wish you a magical week!

 

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

It Got Me Thinking…About Family Holidays & Limoncello Days

We’ve got another holiday coming up in the U.S. this weekend. Oh, excuse me, another family holiday. You know, when generations get together to pass along traditions, share celebrations, take group photos that will later appear on family holiday cards. You know, those days that can totally suck! for those of us who feel so horribly left out because we don’t have kids who might gift us with handmade works of art, treat us to a nutritionally questionable breakfast in bed, or turn the kitchen into a sticky swamp from mixing good ol’ time lemonade on a hot summer afternoon.

Which makes me think about the old adage: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Or as I like to say: When life hits you upside the head then kicks you when you’re down, make limoncello.

I’m not an advocate of drowning my sorrows in booze, but I do think there are healing benefits to stepping away from my challenging routine, finding someplace quiet to sit, taking a few deep breaths, calming my heart, and sipping something lovely.

If you’d like to stock up for the long, hot limoncello days to come, here’s a simple recipe from Giada De Laurentiis (find the full recipe, reviews, and tips here on foodnetwork.com):

Ingredients:

10 lemons

1 (750 ml) bottle of vodka

3-1/2 cups water

2-1/2 cups sugar

Directions:

  1. Using a vegetable peeler, remove the peel from the lemons in long strips (reserve the lemons for another use). Using a small sharp knife, trim away the white pith from the lemon peels; discard the pith.
  2. Place the lemon peels in a 2-quart pitcher. Pour the vodka over the peels and cover with plastic wrap. Steep the lemon peels in the vodka for 4 days at room temperature.
  3. Stir the water and sugar in a large saucepan over medium heat until the sugar dissolves, about 5 minutes. Cool completely.
  4. Pour the sugar syrup over the vodka mixture. Cover and let stand at room temperature overnight.
  5. Strain the limoncello through a mesh strainer. Discard the peels. Transfer the limoncello to bottles. Seal the bottles and refrigerate until cold, at least 4 hours and up to 1 month.

Cin cin!

Kathleen Guthrie Woods also likes to occasionally drown her sorrows in dark chocolate.

Our Stories Update: Amber

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I am so glad I followed up with Amber*, who first shared her story with us in the summer of 2014. She is completely candid about the “dark days” that followed, the hard work it took to begin healing, and the bright spots she’s now able to enjoy in a life without children. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you’ll find some encouragement in her story.

•   •   •

When Amber is asked, “Do you have kids?” she answers, “We have dogs, which are much easier than children.” There’s a lightness and humor to her answer that puts people at ease, but it doesn’t reflect the challenging journey she’s been on and her amazing strength and perspective. I was struck by the depth and wisdom in her answers to our other questions, and I think you, too, will be moved by her insight. Maybe some of it will strike a chord with you and help you in your healing.

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

Amber: I actually was never sure I wanted kids, but after some health problems, we were told “Now or never….” I had several surgeries to remove fibroids, and after each surgery I developed Asherman’s Syndrome. Several corrective surgeries, tons of scar tissue reforming, several dangerous ectopic pregnancies later, and then being told our only hope was a surrogate, well…I was fresh out of $75,000. You have to draw the line somewhere.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Amber: I have moved on to live my life and be happy. I still have a wonderful husband and two dogs, and we will always have a wonderful life as long as we are together. I refuse to throw it all away just because we cannot have children. Sometimes people lose sight of what they have while trying to reach another goal. It’s like what Alexander Graham Bell says in my favorite quote:

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Amber: Plan A was ruining my life and I was constantly devastated and sad. We were living in limbo between procedures and surgeries hoping for a miracle. As soon as we made the decision to move on, things started getting better and we starting enjoying our life again. We were back in control, and the most important thing was that we had each other. Thank God we had not lost each other in the whole mess. Lord knows I have lost multitudes of friends and family over our journey of infertility.

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

Amber: I worry about whom we will spend time with as we age, who will pick us up from the nursing home at Christmas. But, then again, some people’s children do not do that. I have to focus on the fact that we will have each other and a wonderful network of family and friends.

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

Amber: I get to spend all day, every day, with my best friend, and we can do whatever we want together at any given time. We get to take our dogs to the beach two to three times a year, sleep in on Saturdays, buy extravagant things, take naps whenever, hang out at the bar and watch a game, and, most of all, love each other more than anything on this earth.

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

Amber: This was from my friend Penny, who died way too young: “Life isn’t what it should be, life is what it is. However, we get to choose what to make of it.”

•   •   •

LWB: How are you doing today?

Amber: I am living my life, but do not get me wrong, I had some dark days after 2014.  It was a lot to work through, and I would have probably benefited from counseling, which I did not do. I will say I carry the guilt of our inability to have children, but my husband has never blamed me. At times I feel that I robbed him of a family life, but we have so many things to be thankful for, and our life is so full. 

I might sound all “Pollyanna”, like life is all rainbows and unicorns. I promise you that is not the case, as we took a long break for my mental health. I am just an it-is-what-it-is type of person. Quite frankly, I am glad that infertility has been the biggest tragedy in my adult life. I have lived longer than my own mother, who died of cancer in her 30s. I see people all around me losing their health, their spouses, their jobs, or their homes. Worst of all, I have seen people lose their happiness, which encompasses countless things, because they are holding onto anger and resentment. 

The best advice I can give is: Do not lose what is sitting in front of you, do not take what you do have for granted. Get rid of the resentment and anger however you must, and live your life. My life is not bad without children. As a matter of fact, many people envy us for our lifestyle. I am so sorry for everyone reading this, as I would not wish infertility on my worst enemy. Just know that you can pick up the pieces after some healing and have a happy life. We have countless friends who are our parents’ age, and we all enjoy kid-free activities.  We have also reconnected with our childhood friends now that their children are older. None of them even know what we went through. (When you tell people, you must be prepared for their well-meant but stupid responses.) We have our dogs, tennis, work, we know every bartender in a ten-mile radius, extra money, and so many other things. To sum it all up, we are living a happy life.

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

Amber: Ahh…this is a loaded question. First and foremost: Go talk to a counselor! Perhaps even join a grief group if your reproductive endocrinologist offers one. Talking to people who are going through what you are would be way more helpful than becoming resentful of all the stupid things family and friends say trying to help you. Trust me, nothing they say will help you unless it is “Oh, I have $75,000 to give you” or “Oh, I can carry your baby for free.”

Do not feel guilty—it is not your fault. Only time will help you heal and, unfortunately, you are going to have to suffer through it to get to the other side, but the other side is better! While you drown in your grief, make a list of all the things you should be thankful for. It is a much longer list when you start writing it down. Help your spouse through their grief too. You are not the only one suffering. 

You have a purpose in life, and that purpose was not just to have children. You must find your purpose, your passion, and your happiness. Time is the only thing in this world that you cannot get more of no matter what you do. What you do with your time is the most precious thing you have on earth. Choose what to do with it wisely.

This (see photo below) is what kept me going, part of my passion and my purpose.

 

*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.

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

Kathleen Guthrie Woods got goosebumps when she saw the above photo of Amber and her dog. How wonderful and inspiring to see Amber embracing and enjoying her Plan B life!

Whiny Wednesday: Missing Out on Parenting Milestones

Graduation season is upon us and social media has been abuzz with snapshots of proud parents and their offspring. So it seems like a good time for this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:

Feeling left out when friends and relatives celebrate parenting milestones.

As always, your other whines are always welcome.

Our Stories Updates: Kay

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I’ve been catching up with some of our early contributors to this column because I’ve wanted to hear how they’re doing. Naturally, I’m hoping for good—if not great—news about new-found passions, successful Plans B and C, adventures on roads that might not have been taken.

But this is real life. Each of our journeys toward healing goes at its own pace, over its own terrain. Kay’s* road has been full of hard bumps, and when I asked her if she would update us on her life today, she initially replied, “I’m not sure that my story is one that will be of any benefit to anyone.” I’m saddened to hear this—and I disagree. For sometimes the benefit we can give each other is saying, “You are not alone.”

After you’ve read Kay’s original story (first posted in 2014) and update below, I hope you’ll add a Comment. Then I hope you’ll consider sharing your own story. Visit the Our Stories page for information and the questionnaire.

•   •   •

After a first marriage to a man who was “never stable enough for us to have kids,” Kay met her current husband when she was almost 42. They got busy trying to create their family, but three pregnancies were lost early, and adoption didn’t work (they weren’t against it, but the reasons it didn’t work were “complicated”). Now 52, Kay still struggles with being childfree by chance and circumstance. After reading her story below, I hope you’ll take a moment to offer her some encouragement in the Comments.

LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Kay: Oh, the Waltons. I wanted a big family with lots of children, maybe with foster kids as well.

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

Kay: My parents didn’t have a clue how to show love and fought a lot, and we children felt truly unloved and unwanted. From a very young age, all I wanted in life was to be a mama. That I will never have that is crushing. We are not close to any of our nieces and nephews. We have tried, but we live too far away from them to be very involved.

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

Kay: I don’t have to discover that I am just like my parents in parenting, in spite of my best intentions.

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

Kay: I really, really struggle with this because I so want/wanted to be a mama, and I want to relate to other people. Trying to explain, however, becomes complicated. I frequently get, “You could always just adopt,” which is a more complicated conversation. I’ve found it best to just answer, “No.”

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Kay: I still very much want children in my life, and it doesn’t matter to me now that they won’t be my own. We unofficially mentored a family for a while. We called them our “Rent-a-Kids” and they liked that. But they moved away, so now I’m looking for something similar. I would like to find a way to connect “aged out” foster kids with people who would be family for them, to give them someone to care about them and a place to go for holidays and other momentous occasions. I don’t quite know how to get this started, but I’ve recently come across a couple of possibilities.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Kay: I still struggle with hearing pregnancy announcements, and frequently give a big sigh when I read stuff on Facebook about friends’ kids/grandkids or their parenting stuff. Early on I told myself, “This is not how your life will turn out. You will not have this.” It was an attempt to work for acceptance, but I eventually gave it up as it was turning into a self-pitying whine instead of acceptance. Sometimes I’m angry, more often I’m wistful. I frequently quote Agatha Christie: “Life is badly arranged.”

•   •   •

LWB: How are you doing today?

Kay: I have medical issues that are debilitating, and while I try very hard to be upbeat and positive, I’m much worse than four years ago. Because of these issues, I’ve not been able to follow through with aged-out foster children.

I struggle not to be bitter about life, and I am very thankful for the things I do have: supportive husband, friends and family, our home and cats, a decent functional medicine (semi-alternative) doctor. I think I have the bitterness under control, but I am sad (not clinically depressed) often, feeling that we’ve missed so much.

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

Kay: The question about what to say to my younger self is a conundrum. I guess I would simply tell myself that, with my genetic structure, medical intervention does more damage than benefit, and it would be best to eschew it. And “Embrace life more fully.” I was raised with the belief that “good things come to those who wait” hand in hand with “the meek will inherit the earth,” and those two things combined lead to too much passively waiting and watching life pass by.

 

*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is inspired by the strength and courage of every woman who has shared her story here.