It’s Whiny Wednesday, your opportunity to rant on a theme.
This week’s topic is:
Caring for elders and wondering, “Who’s going to do this for me?”
Feel free to add your own whines, too.
Our Stories: Kay
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
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.”
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Behind the Walls of the Mommy Club
By Paulina Grace Hay
One thing I’ve felt and heard many times is about being locked out of the “Mommy Club”—a club we felt we had a natural right to join, no special requirements necessary. Then infertility, illness, age, or time black-balled us. We stand wistfully outside trying to get a peek of the mothers inside living their ideal lives. We imagine all the judgment about our “child-free” lives will be washed away once we walk through those golden Mommy gates.
I live in an odd situation where my life straddles having no kids and having one kid. I have a teenage stepson. He was a toddler when I started dating his father. I am not a full-time stepmother and my son’s mother is very active in his life. Due to this unexpected loophole, I have been granted a “special guest pass” into the Mommy Club. But with restricted privileges. I’ve been outright ignored, given the once over, and warmly greeted. Sometimes by the same person.
I found my place at the club in the fly-on-the-wall seat. I’ve done my share of listening and observing over the years from this post. From the moment a woman is pregnant, people have lots of opinions to share in front of her face and behind her back. I’ve watched the awkward “Congratulations” and subsequently more awkward baby shower for the 19-year-old who got admitted too soon. I’ve watched one mother look down her nose at another for paying for lunch milk rather than packing it. I’ve heard one mother refer to another’s young child as “homely”. In return came an insult about their son’s need for a haircut. I’ve watched smiling faces drop like lead balloons after having an unexpected insult directed their way. I’ve heard the voices lower and eyes begin shifting as a group insult gains momentum.
If anything, admittance into the Mommy Club only ramps up your potential areas of judgment. Some are the old stand-bys. Your age. Your weight. Your hair. Your outfit. Your car. Your house. Your husband. Your ex-husband. Your job. Your decision to stay home. Then multiply all of those things by your child and husband. Possibly your parents and your dog, too. How you raise your kids has the highest potential for conflict of all.
The Mommy Club is not for the faint of heart. Often I saw these women enter with full armor on, even if it looked like yoga clothes, in the chance a battle may begin at any time. Very different to the rose-colored version I imagined, where a new mother would be greeted with open arms and loving support once inside the club walls.
My biggest lesson from access into the Mommy Club is this: Being a mother does not make you automatically connect with another person. I’ve found the same holds true for infertility. It just might give you something to talk about for a few minutes or a few get-togethers. We are more complex and interesting than our children. Or lack of them. I choose to instead consider that we are all part of the Human Club. And for that, there is no special admittance required.
Paulina Grace walked away from the infertility roller coaster six years ago. She hopes to help other women let themselves grieve and then let themselves live. Outside of running her own business, Paulina fulfills her need to nurture by being an involved aunt and caring for her aging parents.
Our Stories: Gwen
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Gwen*, now 44, has endured a rough journey of loss and infertility treatments, but she still hopes for a miracle. Like many of us, she dances around the pros and cons of being childfree as she considers what her Plan B might look like. Do you see yourself in her story? If so, take a moment to reach out to her in the Comments.
LWB: Please briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Gwen: I told myself that if it didn’t happen by 36 I would not pursue it. It wasn’t until I was 39 and reconnected with an old flame—who I eventually married—that I wanted to try for a family. My husband had been a victim of parental alienation for over a decade, has had no connection with his own children for over eight years, and it was very important for me to be able give him a child we could raise together in a very loving family.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Gwen: It was by choice until the age of 39. Then, after three years of trying and having over a dozen conceptions/zero pregnancies/one early miscarriage, I sought infertility treatment. Two failed IVF (in vitro fertilization) cycles into two failed IUI (intrauterine insemination) converts; the doctors could do nothing for me. We can’t afford and are not morally on board with egg donorship. We are too old to adopt a young child, and I do not to want to put myself or my husband through the grueling process of rejection through adoption.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now? (For example: still in denial, angry, hoping for a miracle, depressed, crawling toward acceptance, embracing Plan B, all of the above.)
Gwen: All of the above. I still hope every month, still time intercourse for a possible miracle while fully knowing the eggs are bad and the outcome will most likely never change. Just this month we had a conception that failed. I now joke that my uterus is made of Teflon.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Gwen: Feeling like a social outcast. I just cannot get past that one. I’ve never followed the status quo my entire life, was a “late bloomer” with all things social growing up, and became a statistic as a child of divorce and divorced twice over myself. So giving up the battle and becoming yet another statistic is the hardest part for me. “Everyone else can have a child, why not me?” is what goes through my head every day.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Gwen: Not having to dedicate the next 18 years to being responsible for another human being. I can continue to “do my thing”, come and go as I please, work on my crafts whenever I want, enjoy life on my terms, and not lie in wait for what my offspring needs right now. Oh, and being able to get a full night’s sleep every night. That’s a biggie.
LWB: What’s your Plan B?
Gwen: As I am just coming to terms with being childfree forever, I guess it is wait and see. After three years of marriage we could apply to be a licensed foster home and hope to find an older child who will fit into our life. But that is another year waiting, and my thoughts on adoption might change by then. I’ll leave that in God’s hands.
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Ms. Cellophane
By Lisa Manterfield
Have you ever been around people who behave as if you can’t possibly know anything about life because you don’t have children?
I’m sure that all of us have heard the old chestnuts, “You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids” or “I didn’t understand until I became a mother” (which implies the same thing) or even “Only a parent could know how this feels,” as if being childless strips away all capability of empathy.
And then there are those situations where you just feel invisible, when the conversation about children and parenting is swirling around you and no one even bothers to make eye contact with you because what could you possibly contribute?
These instances make me think of the wonderful “Mr. Cellophane” number from the musical “Chicago.”
And even without clucking like a hen,
Everyone gets noticed now and then,
Unless, of course, that person it should be,
Invisible, inconsequential me.
Personally, I’m done with feeling insignificant because I don’t have kids. It took me a long time to get to this point, but now I hold my ground in conversation. I contribute when I can and simply listen and nod when I can’t, just as I would if I found myself in a conversation on any other topic on which I’m not an expert.
I also keep a list of amazing childless women in case I ever need to remind myself that we don’t need to be parents to make a difference. On my personal list is Amelia Earhart, Dian Fossey, Julia Child, and Juliet Gordon Low, who started the Girl Scout movement. If you need your own role models, Jody Day has put together an outstanding collection on Pinterest.
You’d be hard-pressed to call any of these women insignificant. I remind myself of this when I find myself allowing others to make me feel like less than who I am.
So what do you do when you start to feel like a Ms. Cellophane? Do you feign boredom, try to hop in with an intelligent anecdote, change the subject, or do you slip away and hope no one notices you’ve left?
It Got Me Thinking…About Burdens
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I am a huge fan of watching kids of all ages participate in just about any kind of sporting or performing event. I don’t care if a player is running toward the wrong goal or if the opposing team scores the most points or if the knight in tin-foil armor has to have his lines whispered to him from the teacher behind the curtain. I applaud and enjoy it all.
Watching my own kids was one of the activities I most looked forward to participating in as a proud parent. Alas…no kids for me. And since it would be weird if I showed up to watch a random game at the park, I put the word out to siblings and friends to let me know when I could come watch their kids.
“Send me the game schedule,” I said to a friend after she complained to me about how much time she spends chauffeuring her boys to practices. “When’s the next match?” I texted to another friend after getting a video clip of her daughter scoring a game-winning point. Despite multiple requests, I rarely got a response. Finally I pinned one friend down. “I’m serious!” I said. “I really really want to go watch your daughter play.” “Really?” she said. “We didn’t send you the schedule because we didn’t want you to feel obligated, we didn’t want to burden you.”
What followed was an open chat about how much I loved watching kids play, how much I missed being able to watch my own kids play, and how I hoped I could ease my feelings of loss by watching her kids at play. She got it. She finally heard me, and a couple of weeks later I had a seat in the bleachers.
It’s not easy or fun putting ourselves out there like this, but if you’ve been sitting on the sidelines too long, I encourage you to persist. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be part of the fun.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Whiny Wednesday
I’m finding that I don’t have much to whine about these days. While I’m thrilled to be in this place of peace, I’m not sure it’s doing much for Whiny Wednesday. I’m concerned that I’m not touching on the topics that might be at the forefront of your lives right now.
So, Kathleen gave me a great idea: Why not put a call out for guest whines?
If you have a topic you’d like to voice or a conversation you’d like to start, drop me a line. Just send me a couple of sentences with your whine and I’ll turn it into a guest post. Let me know too if you’d like to include your first name, a pseudonym, or be anonymous.
As for this week’s whines, feel free to unleash in the comments below.
Happy 4th Anniversary to Us!
This week marks the 4th anniversary of Life Without Baby. Happy birthday to us!
Sometimes I can’t believe I’ve been tapping away for four years. Time really does fly. And as this birthday ticks around, it’s good to stop and take a moment to look around at where I am now and how far I’ve come.
Those of you who’ve been reading for some time will undoubtedly have noticed the change in the tone of my posts over the years. I’m not so angry any more, I’m bemoaning less the injustices, and I’m finding far more to cherish and enjoy in a life without children. Yes, it’s taken four years (plus some time before I started blogging) but my “life without baby” is all right.
Over the years (and I think especially over the past year) I’ve also noticed a change in how vocal we childless/childfree/sans kid women and men are becoming. When I first started blogging, I found Pamela at Silent Sorority and Tracey at La Belette Rouge. Like me, they were telling their personal stories of coming-to-terms and recovery, quietly and for a small audience of readers who wanted to hear it. We were cautiously stepping into the public eye and speaking about our stories, but (for me, at least) on the personal front, I still carried a lot of shame surrounding my infertility. I hedged when people asked me if I had children, and when I talked about my work, I rarely mentioned this community or my book. I didn’t want the people I met to know about that very personal side of me.
That’s changed for me over the past four years as those feelings of insecurity have fallen away. It’s not been an easy journey, but I’m no longer ashamed that I cannot and did not have children. It’s just another facet of the whole human being I’ve become.
I’m seeing a change in the infertility world too. Where once the option of childfree living was taboo, I see more and more people considering it along with their other family-building options, and finding resources and community to help them.
Last year I spoke on a panel at the Fertility Planit show here in Los Angeles. The panel on “letting go of having genetic offspring” including the childfree option alongside donor eggs and adoption. I’m speaking at the show again next month, but this time the panel title gets right to the point: “Living Childfree with No Regrets.” I’m truly encouraged that this option is now being given serious consideration and that others coming to the end of their fertility journeys won’t be shunted out into the cold to figure out alone how to come to terms with their unexpected lives.
Hearing other people’s stories and discovering I’m not alone has been one of the most important steps in my healing process. Talking to other women who “get me” has been an enormous source of comfort, and I hope it has been for you, too.
As the site goes into its 5th year, you’ll see a new regular feature, the “Our Stories” series. I hope this series will give those of you who want to be heard the opportunity to speak out in a safe place and share your stories with others. It’s incredible how having a voice can help your own healing and encourage others.
On this birthday, I want to send a huge shout-out and thank you to Kathleen for her incredible support. You’ll have seen her column “It Got Me Thinking…” every Friday, but behind the scenes, she’s been a constant source of ideas and encouragement as I figure out what’s next for this site. She’s also the brains and the editor behind “Our Stories.” Without her help, I’m not sure I’d have maintained the stamina to keep writing for four years!
I also want to thank you. I don’t often chime in on the comments these days, but I always read them, and I’m continually inspired and touched to see your willingness to support one another on your journeys. Thank you for your support of this site.
And so, who knows what the coming year will hold? I hope you’ll stick around to find out.
~Lisa xx
It Got Me Thinking…About Resolving Stuff
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
As I get ready to embrace a fresh start this January—as I assemble my goals, state my intentions, dream, and plan for the months ahead—I’ve been thinking about how I might resolve some of my issues stemming from my journey to childfreeness, perhaps dissolve the last remnants of grief, and solve the mystery of what a beautiful Plan B might look like for me. Here are some of the tasks on my list:
- Reconnect with my soul by walking a labyrinth. (Find one near you here.)
- Talk to women at every level of the childfree path and share their stories on LWB. (More on this later.)
- Visit various networking groups (for women business owners, crafters, or writers) until I find my local tribe.
- Read Jody Day’s Rocking the Life Unexpected. (Watch Lisa’s recent interview with the amazing Jody here.)
- Take a class in something that tickles my imagination, challenges my brain, and entertains my spirit—and has nothing to do with kids. (I’m exploring healthy cooking for two, French conversation, Taiko drums, and agility training with my two four-legged “kids.”)
There’s room on my list for other ideas, so I’d love to hear what you are planning for 2014.
Happy new year!
Freelance writer Kathleen Guthrie Woods feels humbled and privileged to be part of Life Without Baby’s community of extraordinary women.
Whiny Wednesday
“It’s the most wonderful time of the…”
…week!
That’s right! It’s Whiny Wednesday, your chance to “Bah, humbug” and gripe about the grinches in your life. And because of the impending holidays and the need to be festive, this will be the last whine of 2013, so make it a good one!
Whine on!
