filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
This week’s topic is for those of you who arrived here via the infertility route.
Do you feel you were left hanging by the fertility industry?
Okay, I know that’s a loaded question, so if you don’t feel like jumping in on this topic, or if it doesn’t apply to you, feel free to bring your own whine to the party this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
I nicknamed my infertility journey “The Crazy Train.” It felt crazy because of the endless cycle of doctors and opinions that never seemed to get results. It was crazy because of the rollercoaster of emotions I experienced, one day feeling full of hope and certain it was going to happen for me, and the next sobbing my heart out because everything felt hopeless. And it was also crazy because of the things I told myself, the beliefs I chose to adopt to get myself through the mess, the potions, old wives’ tales, and witchcraft (quite literally) I tried in the hopes of conceiving.
But when someone referred to me as “crazy” for what I did, I took offense. Because nothing on this journey is really crazy.
Everything I did was something that was right for me at the time. All my behavior came out of an ever-mounting cycle of determination and frustration. And only when I met others like me who’d also been on that journey, and also thought they were crazy, did I realize how absolutely normal I was.
So, if you’ve been feeling like you’re losing your mind or if you’re wondering if you’re crazy, rest assured you’re not. Because nothing is crazy on this journey; it’s all perfectly normal.
By Lisa Manterfield
I’ve learned a lot from my experience of navigating the world as an unwillingly childless woman. I’ve learned that it’s not a straight road of recovery, where you get progressively better day after day, and where challenges become easier to handle each time you encounter them. It’s more like a wild slip’n slide, where you get up, fall down, make progress and sometimes get hurt—sometimes all in the same day.
When I first started trying to navigate my new path in life, I took a very cavalier attitude, putting on a brave face and telling myself I could handle whatever challenges came my way. I was strong enough, I thought, to volunteer at my local hospital’s NICU, to visit friends and hold their newborn babies, and to keep pretending everything was okay, when it wasn’t.
If I had to do it all again, I’d be kinder to myself. I’d take note of how I was really feeling, and treat myself accordingly. I’d understand that there are stages to the healing process and I’d assess where I was before deciding how much I could handle. For example:
In the early stages—maybe when I’d just made the decision to let go of my dream of motherhood, or I was feeling especially vulnerable—I’d take drastic steps to protect myself. This might mean saying no to events I felt obligated to attend and more-or-less hibernating during the most difficult ones. I’d know I wasn’t going to do this forever, but I’d also know that it was okay to put my own needs first.
In this stage, I’d start to step carefully out in the world again. I might have events I was worried about attending, but if I really wanted to go, I’d say yes to the invitation. I might not feel like being social, but I’d make an effort to test myself, to go out knowing someone would ask if I had children, and hoping I’d be ready with an answer. These would be the days that gave me hope that this would eventually get better over time.
This is the stage I’m in most of the time now, but it took me some time to get here. I’ve worked through my grief and found my own ways to manage tough scenarios. I can answer questions like “Do you have kids?” calmly, and I’ve found ways to reinvent the holidays so I can enjoy them again. I am a childless woman and I’m okay with telling people that. I can even answer them if they decide to ask prying questions or make assumptions about why I don’t have children.
If I’d understood these stages earlier, I might have cut myself a little more slack when my emotions caught up with me or I got caught out in a situation I thought I could handle.
What do you think? Have you moved through similar stages and was it a linear path for you, or was it more the slip’n slide version?
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Among my darker days are those when I’ve wallowed in the belief that I’ve wasted my life. I spent my childhood, my teenage and college years, and the decades leading to my 40s dreaming about and preparing to be a mommy.
Joke’s on me, right?
Sure, I’ve had some fun adventures along the way, had some big career wins, made amazing friends, but I can’t help but think about what I might have done with those youthful years if I’d known in advance I wasn’t going to have children. I might have taken more risks (trained as a racecar driver), made bolder choices (I could have lived in New York—or Provence!), pursued different interests (culinary school, Taiko drumming, raising and curing my own olives).
As I continue to grow older (fortunately) and gain more perspective, I’m seeing that most of those opportunities are still open to me. And when I feel discouraged, I’m finding a lot of encouragement in the world around me.
Specifically, let me introduce you to Ms. Willie Murphy. In 2010, she started lifting weights for the first time in her life, beginning with five-pound dumbbells. In 2014, she was named 2014 Lifter of the Year by the World Natural Powerlifting Federation when she deadlifted 215 pounds. Did I mention she was 77-years-old at the time? (Watch an interview with her and see her lift here.)
video still credit: Lauren Petracca
And even though the world, especially the fashion world, seems youth-obsessed, take a look at the face of French fashion brand Céline’s 2015 spring campaign: writer Joan Didion, looking oh-so-stylish at 80!
photo credit: Céline Spring 2015 Campaign
“I never used the words ‘I can’t’,” Murphy says. “I would just simply say, ‘I will try.’” And those, my dear sisters, are words to live by.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
This week’s topic is the antithesis of the “People who talk about nothing but their kids” topic, but it can be just as difficult to deal with:
People who assume you don’t want to be around their kids
Feel free to bring your own topics to the comments if this isn’t what’s on your nerves this week.
By Lisa Manterfield
Photo Credit: “Rollercoaster” Stevie Gill
Today is Groundhog Day here in the U.S., that monumental day when Punxsutawney Phil comes out of his burrow, looks for his shadow, and thereby predicts whether spring will come early or if six more weeks of winter weather can be expected. It’s all good clean fun and not to be taken too seriously (although Phil is fairly accurate), and I’ll admit to getting a certain thrill out of the festivities and silliness.
In the movie Groundhog Day, Bill Murray plays a weatherman stuck covering the low level news of Phil’s forecasting. Desperate to get out of the town, he finds himself stuck in a time loop, waking up day after day, reliving the same series of events over and over again, each time growing more and more frustrated.
I can remember feeling this way about grief. I recall waking up every morning thinking, “Oh no, not this again” and wondering why I should even bother getting out of bed when there was nothing worth getting out of bed for.
The thing I learned about grief is that, if you don’t get out of bed, you get stuck in that loop of feeling like life isn’t worth the effort. You can talk yourself into believing that life without children is no life at all, that you’re not complete unless you’re a mother—all those things we hear out in the world that we can start to tell ourselves.
It’s not helpful to ignore grief, to pretend it’s not real and that “everything’s okay, honestly” when it’s not. But you also have to beware of getting stuck in an endless loop of sadness. If you’re feeling that way, here are some ideas to get unstuck:
If you’ve found yourself stuck in this kind of grief loop, how have you found a way to break the cycle? If you’re feeling stuck right now, what could you do to make a change so you don’t have to endure another six weeks of winter gloom?
I know I’m probably going to have to duck for cover with this week’s topic. We’ve all heard it and the sting never seems to diminish. So here we go:
“You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids.”
I’ll be behind the couch if you need me.
By Lisa Manterfield
During my years of trying to conceive, I worked in the corporate world. I managed a department of about eight people. When I first took the position, only one member of my staff had children. By the end of two years, only two of us remained childless. I had three pregnant women in my department at one point, and every new announcement was followed by “It’s your turn next.” Of course, my turn never came.
There are so many challenges in the workplace when you don’t have children. There are cubicles festooned with photos of children, lunch groups dominated by kid talk, and family-oriented company picnics. There’s also the challenge of some parents using their parental responsibilities as an excuse to bend the rules and not pull their weight. And, of course, there are the inevitable pregnancy announcements and subsequent baby showers.
What are some of the workplace challenges you face and how have you found ways to navigate them?
By Lisa Manterfield
This is absolutely my favorite time of year. The madness (and sometimes, sadness) of the holidays is behind us and it’s time to look forward to a brand new year.
I love the New Year. I love making plans, taking a little time to do some walking and dreaming, creating a picture of what I want my life to look like the following year. I always set some pretty lofty goals and sometimes I even reach them! But the thrill for me is not in checking accomplishments off my list (although I enjoy that, too) but in taking a deep breath and realigning my life to how I’d like it to be.
Among the cards I received over the holidays were a several (I was surprised how many) photo cards from friends who are also childfree. I really enjoyed seeing their adventures and travels, and although I’ll admit to a touch of envy, I was also glad to see photographic evidence that these women had worked their way through their loss and grief and were living life to the fullest again. Their photos also prompted me to move some of my old passions (travel and hiking, for example) higher up my list next year.
If you’re in the thick of grief, looking ahead to a rosy future can feel impossible, and even when the healing begins, you can sometimes find that you’ve lost touch with who you really are and who you’d like to be again.
One of the most encouraging weeks during one of last year’s support calls was after we’d discussed the topic of finding yourself again. So many participants said they’d pushed aside old passions during the baby quest, and it was so fun to see all the amazing things people had once loved to do that were about to be dusted off again. Some people loved singing, reading, writing, traveling, even trampolining. Their ideas made me think about bringing some of my own former hobbies back into my life again. I’d like to encourage you to do the same.
If you’re thinking there’s no way you’re getting on a pair of rollerskates again, I suggest thinking about how your old favorite hobby made you feel; what was it about rollerskating (for example) that you loved so much. Is there a way to recreate those old feelings in a new hobby? If your rollerskates gave you freedom and if you loved the feel of the wind in your hair, can you get that by riding a bike or taking a long drive with the windows open?
As we step into this brand new year, I encourage you to think about the “you” that got lost and to look for ways to find her again.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Over the past couple of months, it feels like childfree women have been stepping out of the shadows and speaking up—quite publicly. Several friends have asked me, “What do you think of all this?”
I think the question should be, “How do you feel?” and my answer would include: supported, acknowledged, comforted, encouraged, vindicated, empowered.
I applaud these women for making their—and our—voices heard. I am encouraged that, in doing so, they negate the shame so many of us have been forced to feel for our choices and/or our circumstances. I think, as a society, we are making good progress.
Here’s a sampling of some of the articles. If you have come across other good news, please share links in the Comments.
Jennifer Aniston on Pressure to Have Kids: “It’s rude, insulting, and ignorant”
I’m 40. I Don’t Want to Be a Mom. Now What?
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
