You’ve probably noticed that there are triggers all around—at the mall, in the mail, on TV, in the streets. So this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is this:
Being caught in public by surprise feelings of loss or grief
Whine away, my friends.
How to be Childless and Happy in 10,000 Easy Steps
By Lisa Manterfield
There are two questions I get asked frequently: How did you come to terms with not having children, and how long did it take?
The answer is something akin to “how long is a piece of string and how many knots can you tie in it?”
Believe me when I tell you that if I could write down ten easy steps to making peace with being childfree-not-by-choice, I’d do it, but the answer isn’t that simple. Yes, there were many things that happened along the way that helped me make some peace, but it took closer to 10,000 steps than ten.
Writing down my story was hugely cathartic, venting about the injustices on this blog helped, too. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this and that people like you were out there wanting to talk through the minefield has helped immeasurably. Drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is where that chapter of my life ends and this is where I start healing” also helped. And frankly, telling myself a big fat lie that I was better off not being a mother actually helped me to realize that in many ways I was. Setting new goals, appreciating the benefits of not having kids, and allowing myself to feel bitter and badly treated when I needed to. All these things helped.
I don’t think there’s a formula for working your way through this, and it’s definitely a journey of making forward process and dealing with inevitable setbacks.
As for how long the process takes? How long is that piece of string? It’s been three years for me and I consider myself largely at peace with my situation. I have closed the door on the idea that I will have children someday and most days I’m good with it. Everyday it gets a little better and a little easier. Some days there will be reminders of what I’ve lost and sometimes a flicker of a thought of “what if…”
The truth is, in many ways, I expect this piece of string to go on forever. The experience of infertility has changed me. It is one of the most significant and life-changing events of my life, and I don’t think the repercussions of that will ever stop reverberating. It doesn’t mean I won’t find harmony and even happiness in this new life – I already have – but I don’t expect this journey of coming-to-terms to ever fully end.
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After a long hiatus, I’ve decided to bring back the monthly newsletter to share tips and ideas, resources for additional support, and any news that needs a more timely outlet than the blog. If you’re already a subscriber, look for something coming soon. If you’re not yet on the list, you can sign up here, or in the box at the top of the sidebar, and receive the free Dealing With Social Landmines ebook to get you started.
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.
Join Me at the We Are Worthy Summit
Next week I will be teaching a webinar at the fabulous new We Are Worthy Summit. The brainchild of Nicci and Andrew Fletcher of Childless Not By Choice Magazine, and Brandi Lytle of Not So Mommy, this weeklong online summit will include live webinars, training, panel discussions, and live chats. Best of all, access to all the events is free.
The summit runs from April 22nd to 28th and my session is on Friday, April 27that 6:00 pm BST/10:00am PDT time. Here’s what I’ll be teaching:
You’re Not Crazy; That’s Your Grief Acting Out
If your emotions feel out of control and you keep putting on a brave face for other people, it’s time we talked about grief.
In this session, I’ll show you:
Why it’s okay to be a hot mess
We’ll talk about why your emotions feel out of control and why you may not be getting the support you need. (Hint: It’s them, not you.)
What happens when you pretend everything’s okay?
Find out why “putting on a brave face” is helping everyone but you.
How to grieve when no one else understands
We’ll look at acknowledging what you’ve lost, claiming your right to grieve, and how to take care of yourself first.
When you’re ready, it’s time to say good-bye
I’ll share ideas gathered from my own experience, and those of others, about how to let go of the persistent call to try “one more thing” and allow yourself to grieve your losses.
It’s nobody’s business but yours, but if you’re ready to talk…
Getting real support and compassion can be challenging. I’ll share some ideas for reaching out to others when you’re ready.
You can find out all about the summit at WeAreWorthySummit.com. I hope to see around during the week and I hope you’ll join me on Friday, 27th.
It Got Me Thinking…About Updating My “I’ll Nevers”
I’ve been reading through some posts from the early LWB days, and this came up as one of the most-read—and one that received a flood of comments. It continues to ring true, and it continues to make me laugh and think. I’m including it below for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, and for long-time LWBers who will get a kick out of revisiting it.
What’s most interesting to me about how it makes me feel today, in 2018, is that I now focus less on the “I’ll Nevers” (both the loss of experiences and the avoidance of the annoying acts listed below) and focus more on the “I Cans.” For example, last year one of my nieces earned a spot on her high school cross-country team. Because I don’t have sporting events with my own kids filling up my Saturdays, late in the fall I was able to travel quite a distance to watch her team win the league championship. Several weeks later, my husband and I drove nine hours round-trip to watch her and her teammates win the state championship.
It was beyond thrilling to be there, and my heart overflowed with pride for this young woman who had worked so hard to achieve her win and with gratitude that I was able to be there to see her achieve it. I think of this again and again as I attend basketball games, awards ceremonies, music recitals, theatrical debuts, graduations, first communions, and other special events for my nieces, nephews, and godchildren—things I can and do enjoy but would never get to if Fate had dealt me a different hand.
So today in the Comments, I hope you’ll have fun with your “I’ll Nevers” and I hope you’ll think about at least one “I Can” you are able to enjoy because you happen to be childfree.—KGW
• • •
Whenever I get tired of hearing myself whine about all the things I’ll never get to experience because I’m childfree—feeling a second heartbeat within my body and beaming with pride when someone says “She’s just like you”—I find I can put an end to my self-pity party by thinking about some of the annoying things I’ll never do. This includes:
1. I’ll never ruin another couple’s romantic dinner because I’ve let my toddler run amok in a nice restaurant.
2. I’ll never keep an entire airplane full of stressed-out businesspeople and weary travelers awake with my screaming infant, because if I can block out her cries, surely they can make an effort.
3. I’ll never insist that, because my child is actually the smartest/most talented/most gifted kid in the group, he should get special treatment.
4. I’ll never have to schedule a vacation to coincide with school holidays, so I won’t be part of the masses of humanity standing in line in front of you to get into the museum/amusement park/restroom stall.
5. I’ll never say the words, “How would you know? You’re not a mother.”
6. I’ll never offend a stranger by asking him to hold my child while I lift up my shirt, fumble with snaps, and flash my breasts before taking the kid back for a public feeding.
7. I’ll never saddle a colleague with extra work because I have kids.
8. I’ll never blow off a friend because I have kids.
9. I’ll never tell my husband to go take a cold shower because I’m worn out from taking care of his kids.
10. And I’ll never, ever con extended family into going on a Disney cruise.
What’s on your list?
Whiny Wednesday: Everything Happens for a Reason
We could easily compile an entire encyclopedia of unhelpful, and even hurtful, things people have said to us. I think this one stings as much as any:
“Everything Happens for a Reason”
Do you agree? Or do you have your own favorite “helpful” slight?
Why I Didn’t “Wait Too Long” to Have Children
By Lisa Manterfield
I was asked once, by a well-intentioned person, if I thought I’d waited too long to start trying to have children. I have to admit that the thought has flitted across my mind on more than one occasion, but once I stop to think it through, I’m able to answer the question with a resounding “No!”
I remember being completely affronted (and rightly so) by a very conservative college professor who told me that the prime age for women to have children was 18. Of course, looking at a chart of fertility vs. age, I now see that he was correct, even if his suggestion that motherhood might be a more suitable choice than college was extremely misguided.
Looking back at my 18-year-old self, it’s hard to imagine what would have happened if that young woman had become a mother. Yes, I know lots of women do it, and I probably would have too, if I’d had to. But thinking about all the upheavals I’ve put myself through, I just cannot imagine that a child would have benefited from having me as an 18-year-old mother. Maybe (maybe) my supposed topnotch fertility at that age would have enabled me to conceive, but it would have been no guarantee of my suitability as a mother.
The truth is, I have absolutely no idea if I was fertile at 18. I assumed that, like many, many women, I would still be fertile at 34, and look how that turned out. There’s no way of knowing how long ago my body decided it wasn’t up to the task of reproducing, and now I’ll never know.
When I look back at the 18-34 years, they were rocky, but good. I had all kinds of experiences that I couldn’t have had if I’d had children to take care for. I went to college—twice—moved to another continent, traveled to many countries, did volunteer work, had fun but unsuitable relationships, changed careers (more than twice), and got to sample adventures not well-matched to motherhood. I certainly don’t feel as if I wasted those years. I wonder if I’d feel the same if I’d been raising children all those years.
So, no, I don’t feel as if I waited too long. I waited until I was ready, and while I waited, I was busy living my life to the fullest, and I don’t consider that wasted time at all.
Whiny Wednesday: Being Taken Advantage Of At Work
Some people assume that if you don’t have children you have nothing but time. Nowhere you have to be, no responsibilities, and certainly nothing important to get home for.
Which brings us to this week’s Whiny Wednesday topic:
Being taken advantage of at work because you don’t have kids
And, go…
Do You Ever Get Over Being Childless-Not-By-Choice?
By Lisa Manterfield
I’ve run this post several times over the years, but it remains one of the hottest topics and the question I’m most often often asked. If you’ve been a reader for while, think of this as a chance to look back and see how far you’ve come.
The question is: is it possible to ever get over being unable to have children?
I can’t see far enough ahead to know for sure if infertility and being childless is something I will ever “get over,” but based on another life-changing experience, here’s what I think:
When I was 15, my dad passed away suddenly and everything changed for me. I remember feeling immediately alienated from the other kids in school because I was no longer like them. I felt as if everyone was staring at me to see how I behaved, to see what someone with a dead dad looked like. People didn’t know what to say me, so many just said nothing. Several adults said variations of “This will make you grow up quickly” so I took them at their word and forged a new grown-up path.
For many years, my dad’s death defined me and I saw everything in my life through that filter. I felt angry and rebelled against people who had living parents, especially if they didn’t appreciate them. Unexpected things would trigger my grief and those old emotions would come at me from nowhere.
Over time, this eased. I went about my life and slowly, the fact that I didn’t have a dad no longer factored in. The trigger situations became less frequent and I thought about his death less and less.
It’s now been 30 years since he passed away. His death no longer directly colors my life. It is something I experienced a long time ago and found my way through. I think about him sometimes, but mostly with fondness and only occasionally do I think about the traumatic time around his death.
I have never forgotten my dad, nor will I ever forget him. His memory and my loss are woven into the fabric of my being, but don’t identify me as someone who has lost. I can say that I am “over” the loss of my dad, but I will never forget that he’s no longer here.
So, now if I go back over this story and replace the loss of my father with the loss of the children I never had, I imagine the story will unfold in much the same way. I’m already on the road to healing. Situations that cause my grief to flare up are very rare these days and the traumatic period of my life is blending into my library of memories. I am well on the way to being “over” infertility and the loss I experienced because of it, but it will always be a part of who I am and I don’t expect I will ever forget.
If you’re struggling to navigate the “getting over it” road, you’ll find lots of help and ideas in Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen.
It’s on sale, along with my first book, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood, for only $2.99 until the end of March.
Our Stories: Wendy
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
As soon as I finished reading Wendy’s story, I sent her an email: “I understand.” Oh, how I understand. I’ve felt all the anger and bitterness, I’ve raged at how unfair Life has been, and I’ve experienced that same glimmer of hope when I finally realized I was not alone and found the courage to reach out for help.
I hope you’ll share some words of encouragement and compassion to Wendy in the Comments, and please take a moment to acknowledge that the Comments written by other LWBers are meant for you too.
Sending out extra love to all of you today. ♥Kathleen
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Wendy: Circumstance. Married at 24, tried three rounds of AIH [artificial insemination by husband] at 27 (what was recommended before you consider trying IVF), found out I had Hodgkin lymphoma at 30. Decided to try adoption, but was told after a few steps in that, because I was in remission from cancer, I couldn’t adopt for seven years. We sold our house and went travelling around Australia for a couple of years. When we came back home, I was feeling unwell, so I went to doctors who thought I might be pregnant. I got excited, then had a test to discover I had fibroid so big I had to have a hysterectomy at 37. I had the hysterectomy and recovered in the maternity ward. (There were no other beds available, even with a request from me.) It was pretty gut-wrenching seeing mothers with babies! I asked the hospital for my womb so I could bury it myself, and they agreed, but my husband was not happy with my decision. From there my marriage broke up, and we divorced when I was 40.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Wendy: I moved interstate at 40, and I am remarried to a man with four teenage children who I feel I keep at arm’s length. I am at a point now, at 53, where I realise I had no counselling or grief support during the whole process for over 25 years. My personality has changed. I get angry and depressed. I get annoyed when people say “You have four stepchildren, you should be happy.” They just don’t get it. Yes, my stepchildren are loving, but they are not mine. They have a mother, and I will never have a mini me. I have come to a point where I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I need to actually grieve and have someone understand. So, thank you for reading this.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Wendy: I thought I could be strong and cope on my own and keep it inside, but I can’t. I am a strong woman, but I was too stubborn. I should have asked for support a long time ago, which makes me wonder how much better I would have felt earlier/now.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Wendy: I still haven’t worked that one out. It depends on the person asking. If they seem genuine, then I am more genuine with my answer.
LWB: What is the best advice you’d offer someone else like you? (or What advice would you like to give to your younger self?)
Wendy: Get help and support asap. Talk to someone who understands. Don’t wait 25 to 30 years and become bitter, angry, or depressed.
LWB: Who is your personal chero (a heroine who happens to be childfree)?
Wendy: Xena, Princess Warrior.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Wendy: I have been able to express my feelings to others who have been through similar.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Wendy: I am finally seeking out help to grieve.
I hear again and again from contributors what a healing experience it is to answer these questions and share their stories with other readers who truly get what they’re going through—and who rise up to offer support and encouragement. Won’t you consider sharing your story? Visit the Our Stories page for more information and to download the questionnaire. I hope to hear from you soon.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is so grateful to be part of this community of wise, loving, and brave women.
