Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Whiny Wednesday: An Explanation


Whiny Wednesday has become such a favorite on the blog and I know that many of you look forward to the chance to have a good rant about what’s on your mind.

For those of you who are new to Life Without Baby or maybe not sure what this Whiny Wednesday thing is all about, I thought an brief explanation might be in order.

Whiny Wednesday came about because many of us felt we were going through our respective journeys alone and that our friends and family often didn’t understand how much we were hurting. Many readers said felt they felt they had to put on a brave face around other people and that the things they wanted to talk about sometimes felt like “whining.”

So, Whiny Wednesday was created as the place where, once a week, you can come and vent about whatever’s on your mind, especially the things you feel you can’t say in-person around others. Most weeks I post a topic for discussion, but the comments are always open for griping about whatever happens to be on your mind.

So, now you know what it’s all about, feel free the have a really good whine this week.

It Got Me Thinking…About the Invisible Losses of Childlessness (Holiday Edition)

Here in the U.S., we’re entering into another three-day-weekend to celebrate Memorial Day. This is the kind of holiday that, in my Plan A life, would have included a family picnic, a family barbecue, maybe a family outing to watch a parade, and overall a fun opportunity for my children to spend time with the many generations of our family.

So add all of the above, once again, to my list of invisible losses that come with being childfree-not-by-choice. Also on my list:

• Never being able to see my father’s, husband’s, or own eyes in another human being.

• Never having the pleasure of hearing someone say “She’s just like you at that age.”

• Never getting to throw an over-the top child’s birthday party with an ooh- and ahh-inspiring magician, balloon artist, or bubble-making machine.

• Never getting to quietly take pride in my child’s achievement.

• Never being able to watch my grown child pass on to his child the traditions, rituals, and stories I taught him.

In Living the Life Unexpected, the always spot-on Jody Day adds her own list of invisible losses followed by this line:

If you take the time to think about it all in one go, which is more than most of us are ever likely to do because of the breathtaking amount of pain involved, it’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.

“It’s a testament to our strength that we’re still standing at all.” That line took my breath away the first time I read it, and it reminds me that grieving and healing is a long and circuitous journey.

I know it’s painful. I know sometimes the “easy” route of denial is appealing. But today I encourage you to set aside some time to acknowledge what you’ve lost. The visible and not-so-visible. I think that is the first step toward letting it go.

If you need help working through the process of grieving, I encourage you to check out the many resources available to you, starting with Lisa’s book Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.

If one book or author doesn’t speak to you, don’t give up; find another. It’s what I’ve been doing, and I promise you it helps.

And wherever you are in the world, whether you’re celebrating Memorial Day or facing just another rough weekend, I hope you’ll remember that you are loved and you are not alone.

 

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

What Accepting Childlessness Means to Me

Guest Post, by Jane P (UK)

I first had a desire to accept—to let go of my plans for motherhood—when marriage issues and signs of depression followed six failed IVF cycles. My husband could not continue fertility treatment and I could not stop. I would not contemplate accepting infertility, as it meant a life without baby. After 17 years of marriage, the word “divorce” came up.

I asked my husband to help me accept.  He agreed to come to a counselling session with me at our local GP. There, the Counsellor asked, “What would a world look like to you if you could accept?” A simple question and my response was along these lines:

The bickering and arguments would stop. We would laugh again, we would plan again—not just plan, but look forward to things. (I felt that I had been going through the motions of life.)  I wouldn’t feel pain or anger every time I walked through the town or in the office, turned on the TV or heard a casual baby/child related comment from colleagues, friends. (Everything was a trigger. Every minute of every day I was consumed with a massive sadness that wouldn’t shift. I countered this thought for years with, “Next time we try it will be different.” It never was.)

So, I was left thinking about my reply to the question from the Counsellor. I needed to accept so that I could stop feeling the pain, I would stop arguing with my husband.  We would feel love again, enjoy life again…

I started to seek help. This came from LWB and through continuing to speak to the Counsellor. We found a way back to each other and through a final IVF treatment with donor eggs that ended with emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy. For the first two years I was tormented with wanting to try again, wanting to stop, but I’d promised myself and my husband that this was the end of the line.

Four years on, we stopped pursuing any more treatment.  I am now officially too old at 50!  So, why do I still wake up frequently and stare at the ceiling every day before forcing myself out of bed? Still ask the same questions, still feel the same sadness at the “motherhood” and baby conversations I overhear, still want to run away when a colleague makes an announcement, or leave my desk before her presentation on leaving day?

Initially, I thought acceptance would mean no more pain, looking forward to life again. Well, my marriage is back on track. I definitely look forward to things and plan fun events and holidays.  I seek to relish every day in small ways—my latte treat at 11:00, having my hair done, buying a new lipstick here and there.

The triggers are still there, though. They don’t have me running away anymore, and I counter the feelings with acknowledging the loss and rationalising that motherhood is full of difficult days as well as joyous ones. But, I still feel the pain, and recently I wondered if I have truly accepted.

The word “acceptance” conjures up a feeling that “it’s OK that I didn’t get to experience motherhood and hold my baby”.  But it’s not OK. You can’t stop the pain and it’s unrealistic to not feel the loss in some way.

So, maybe I don’t have to completely accept. Perhaps this is now what acceptance means to me:

Allowing myself to live again, letting in joy, loving my husband.  Not expecting to not feel sadness when I see pregnant women, small babies or toddlers. 

It means, loving myself, valuing myself, grabbing the life I have and enjoying it again with as much passion as possible!  

What does acceptance mean to you?

 

Note from Lisa:

Jane P (UK) has been a long-time member of the Life Without Baby community. We really appreciate her writing this heartfelt guest post.

Whiny Wednesday: Mother’s Day Aftermath

I hope you made it through the past weekend relatively unscathed. So, do tell:

How did Mother’s Day go for you?

How did you handle it? How did it go? What went well? What didn’t? Let us know the good, the bad, and the flat-out ugly.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Being a (Proud) Dog Mama

Hell Weekend—I’m sorry, Mother’s Day Weekend—is upon us. Not being a mother, I’m going to spend the next few days avoiding restaurants, florists, candy shops, and even the slightest chance encounter with anyone who might wish me…well, you know.

The one thing I cannot avoid is also my one bright spot of pure love: Louie. My funny bundle of fur is a cuddler and a kisser. He is smart. He beams when he masters a new trick. He entertains me with his antics. When he “wins” our tug-of-war games, he immediately brings the rope back to me for a fresh round of play. He “sings” duets with me at least once every day. (It’s not pretty, but it’s incredibly sweet. And, no, I’m not posting a video or audio track.) He greets me every morning like it’s been years since we were last together. He’s one of the great loves in my life.

When people ask my husband if we have kids, he generally answers, “No, we have dogs.” I don’t ever refer to Louie as my “baby,” for he is no substitute for the children I’d hoped to have in my life. But he does provide me with so much love, that he frequently distracts me from my losses.

If you have a four-legged companion in your life, I hope they give you extra love and comfort this weekend. If not, I hope this photo of me and my little guy at least gives you a smile today.

Louie and Kath

 

Be gentle with yourself this weekend!

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with being childfree.

 

 

Whiny Wednesday: “I Never Knew Love Until…”


This hot-button whine was sent in from one of our readers.

When you read an interview of some celebrity or hear someone say:

“I never knew what love was until I had a child.”

So…is she saying that because I’m childless I’m not capable or “real” love or that I will be denied the experience of the highest expression of love?

Whether this makes your blood boil or cuts you to the core, whine away, sisters!

And if you have another great whine you need to get off your chest this week, here’s the place to let it rip.

Preparing for Mother’s Day

By Lisa Manterfield

Let’s just say it: Mother’s Day is the nuclear bomb of holidays when you don’t have children. It’s a day of brunches, church services, and flowers, when shops, offices, restaurants, and even our social media feeds are filled with celebrations of moms and all things motherhood. To top it all, this holiday has somehow escaped the political correctness cleanup that other holidays have undergone, so while many people are hesitant these days to wish someone a Merry Christmas, lest they offend, no one seems to have any qualms about wishing everyone a Happy Mother’s Day.

It took me a long time to be able to face Mother’s Day, but in more recent years I’ve done something fun for myself on that weekend. A couple of years ago I planned a trapeze class and another year I ran a half marathon at Disneyland. Each year, I’m able to note that the day bothers me less and less, and I use it to mark my own progress. I know that many of you aren’t there yet, and from past experience I know that it pays to face the day prepared.

If you plan to venture out over Mother’s Day weekend, be ready for almost everyone to wish you a happy Mother’s Day. This includes friends, neighbors, sales assistants, parking attendants, and even complete strangers. Prepare your arsenal of stock replies and be ready to respond, so you don’t find yourself caught unawares and having to explain why you’re standing in the middle of the street in tears, yelling “It’s not a happy day at all!” to an unsuspecting stranger.  My standard response is to say “Thank you. You too” and move on as quickly as possible.

Once you’re aware of the inevitable challenges the day can bring, it’s good to make a plan to keep yourself protected. If you know you’re not going to be able to make it through the day with your emotions intact, stay at home or make plans to go somewhere away from the biggest challenge spots. If you’re expected to attend a big family gathering, consider if you could take a pass, just this year. Even if the next Mother’s Day is months from now, take a few minutes to jot down the challenges you might face and come up with a plan. How will you spend the day? How will you honor your own mother? And how will you deal with the challenges you can’t avoid?

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.

Whiny Wednesday: Royal Baby Overload

I’ve been taking a break from social media and the news lately, so I managed to miss last week’s “happy” news. However a reader alerted me to the arrival of the royal baby and the onslaught of pictures in the news.

So, this week’s topic is:

Baby picture overload (royal or otherwise)

Whine away.

You’re Not Crazy; That’s Your Grief Acting Out

I was so honored to be invited to speak at last week’s We Are Worthy Summit. What an incredible event Nicci, Andrew, and Brandi put together. Over the course of the week, they hosted more than thirty panels, webinars, and discussions, and access to all events was completely free.

If you missed it, you can see the full line-up and replays of all the events on the We Are Worthy Summit Events Page. You’ll see the events listed for each day and if you click on a day, you’ll find all the recordings there.

I taught a webinar on grief and how to create space for dealing with loss. You can see the replay of “You’re Not Crazy; That’s Your Grief Acting Out” below.

I’ll be doing more webinars like this in the near future, and beginning in late May, I’ll be opening a new 90-day program offering daily support and lessons in a private group environment. I’ll post more information soon. You can also sign up here to get updates via email.