Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood eBook is Here!

By Lisa Manterfield

Exiting news! The first book in the Life Without Baby ebook series is out today. Workbook 1: Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood is available on Amazon now and will be showing up at other online retailers over the coming weeks.

It’s been an interesting process to gather all that I’ve learned about this strange journey over the past years. I wish I’d known five years ago (or maybe even before then) that it was okay to let go of my quest. I wish I’d understood that the loss of my dream meant more than simply not having children and that it would affect the foundation of my identity, my relationships, and all my plans for the future. And I wish I’d known to give myself permission to grieve, instead of putting on a brave face and pretending everything was okay. At least I know that now.

I’ve learned so much from all of you as I’ve voiced my difficulties here and heard about yours. You have taught me so much about this issue and about myself. For that, I am very grateful.

I’m also enormously grateful to Kathleen for her help in crafting the book and then her brilliant work editing and proofreading the final manuscript. There’s so much that happens behind the scenes of this site that couldn’t happen without her.

So, please, grab yourself a copy of the book. It’s affordably priced at $2.99. Your support of these projects enables me to keep this site running without ads or fees. Don’t worry if you don’t have an e-reader. You can download a free App so you can read the book on your computer, phone, tablet, or maybe even your watch!

You can find Workbook 1 here. And if you can’t get enough, you can even pre-order Workbook 2. I’d love to get your feedback if you find them helpful.

An Interview with Henriette Mantel

No Kidding coverBy Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Henriette Mantel was first introduced to me as the editor of No Kidding: Women Writers on Bypassing Motherhood. In this collection of essays, some very funny women—including Margaret Cho, Wendy Liebman, Laurie Graff, and Nora Dunn—tackle the mostly serious topic of why they opted out of having children. Their stories are in turns hilarious and raw, inspiring and heartbreaking, and they all give voice to women who are traditionally shamed for their choices.

An Emmy Award–winning writer, a documentary film producer, an actor—Henriette’s résumé is impressive. Shortly after I spoke with her I learned she has portrayed one of the most beloved childfree characters of all time: Alice in The Brady Bunch movies. (Read Henriette’s lovely tribute to Ann B. Davis, the original Alice, here.)

For those of you who are new to Life Without Baby, we have a tradition of honoring “cheroes,” i.e., heroes who happen to be childfree. Henriette is one of my cheroes, for being her authentic self and for speaking up for childfree by choice women everywhere. Even if you are childfree not by choice, I think you will find inspiration and support in her perspective. Let me introduce you….

LWB: What was your inspiration for the book?

Henriette: Watching endless interviews with authors about how to deal with/live with/not kill/brag about your kids. Seriously, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to hear the other side of the story.

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

Henriette: I have pushed a lot of things in my life, but I never pushed having children. Partly because I could never imagine raising a child alone and partly because my choices in men have always been just this side of serial killers. But most of all, I have never had that gotta-have-a-baby visceral craving that ruled so many of my friends. I like kids. I LOVE kids. I love my nieces and my lone nephew more than life itself. My reason for not having kids wasn’t that I hate the little buggers, it was that I always felt fate would let me know if I was supposed to be a mom or not. Fate never brought me a man I would love to get pregnant with, fate never called me to raise a child alone, and fate never knocked me up, so here I am, childless.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Henriette: To be honest, sometimes when I hold my new great-niece I wonder what my kid would have looked like. But that is ego. Of course I wonder what my kid would have looked like, but is that enough to have a kid? I don’t think so. When I think of all the work/heartache/rewards that a child can bring, I still don’t seem to crave having one.

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

Henriette: Not cleaning up bodily fluids? Not racing to the hospital when they have a fever of 104? Not worrying about them shooting up heroin? Oh, yea… wanting to talk endlessly and boringly about my kid when all the indulgent, tedious moms talk about their kids. That’s the hard part.

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

Henriette: My time is my own.

LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received about living a happy childfree life?

Henriette: No one ever really talked about it to me until I edited No Kidding. It’s like a non-subject. That’s what I love about the book. At least people now talk about it.

LWB: What’s the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?

Henriette: Follow your heart. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with not having/wanting/craving kids. And there’s nothing wrong with having them either. Do what you do.

LWB: What advice do you wish you could have given your younger self?

Henriette: Try not to date psyco-men. Oh wait, that’s not about kids. I guess just go with the flow, baby.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, strangers) to know about childfree women?

Henriette: There is nothing wrong with us. Stop feeling sorry for us. And for god’s sake, stop assuming we wanted them! Open your mind up a little and know there are choices and some of us are brave enough to make the choices that aren’t mainstream (boring) thinking.

The other day, my friends were dealing with their teen-age girl (nightmare) and after I gave some dumb advice, the father joked to me, “That’s coming from a person with no kids.” He knows I wrote the book, he knows my life, he just said it teasingly. Well, the other woman in the room, who didn’t know me, had such a look of pity when she looked at me, that I actually felt sorry for her to be so unevolved. Actually, I wanted to punch her in the nose. But as my mom used to say, “That wouldn’t be very ladylike, would it?”

LWB: At Life Without Baby, we talk a lot about “cheroes,” our heroines who happen to be childfree (Sally Ride, Oprah, the first female 4-star general). Who is your chero and what about her inspires you?

Henriette: I guess out of all the childless women it has to be Gloria Steinem because she said to Joan Rivers (who ooozed pity upon her childless soul), “If we all had kids, there wouldn’t be anyone here to tell you what it’s like not to have them.” Hearing that statement, at age 16, liberated me for the rest of my life.

 

No Kidding: Women Writers on Bypassing Parenthood is available on Amazon. Henriette Mantel is currently adapting it into an Off-Broadway show. Visit her website for updates.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayThis week’s Whiny Wednesday topic is that old chestnut:

The baby shower!

A reader wrote:

I would like to know how others handle baby showers. I have vowed to not go to any more baby showers after leaving the last one in tears and disappointed in myself because I felt so strong before I went. Do others have emotional issues about other people’s baby showers or am I alone?

After assuring her that she definitely was not alone in feeling this way, I thought I’d turn the topic over to you.

Please whine, rant, empathize, and even advise on this most delicate of topics.

Whiny Wednesday

Whiny_WednesdayThis 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 childfree I’m not capable or “real” love, or because I’m childfree 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.

Shadow Lives

By Paula Coston

Image courtesy of Ideago/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image courtesy of Ideago/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I’m 59 now, and over those close-on six decades I have mapped out in my mind an entire web of paths untaken. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve. And for that reason, Chapter 7 of Jody Day’s book Rocking the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Life without Children chimes with me. (Jody is the founder of Gateway Women, a British-based website for women childless by circumstance.)

The chapter’s first two sections are headed “The shadow of the life unlived” and “The dark side of daydreams.” She shares her own experience with searing frankness:

“For many years I’d been living two lives: one in which I was hoping for a baby and making the best of things till then, the other in which I had succeeded and had become a mother….

“At no point in that time… did I fully and completely embrace the life I was actually living—that of a childless woman….

“I think of the ‘shadow life’ as the life you dreamt about while your ‘real’ life was happening and … which … depleted the life you were actually living.”

We all have our path forks. A few of mine happened when:

– Somewhere in my childhood, I believed my family was encouraging me in the single, career-driven life, not a life of love and family.

– Over the years a couple of men proposed to me, both in fun. Friends laughed too, hearing about it.

– It became clear to me that one special lover had serious issues about parenthood, so when the option came up for us, I knew I had to forgo it.

– Neighbors and colleagues at work became grandmothers, and, like a photograph gradually developing, I soon saw that I never would.

Slowly, I’m coming to terms with these losses. These days, what fascinates me more is the way we persist in tracing and re-tracing these ghosts of roads untaken.

I wonder whether, once we surmount the pain, their rehearsal can bring us comfort. Why not trust that we’re living our shadow lives somewhere else close by, if it helps? Maybe the psyche is instinctively drawn to the idea of alternative realities. And if you’re a writer—like me—well, it’s unavoidable.

In 1964, a TV soap, Another World, started on NBC, set in the fictional town of Bay City. It was so popular that it ran till 1999! The co-creator Irna Phillips explained the idea behind it: “We do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand other worlds.” Bay City and its happenings represented to her the difference between “the world of events we live in, and the world of feelings and dreams that we strive for.”

Over the last four years, my best therapy has been to struggle with, and beat, writing a novel. It just came out on June 27, entitled On the Far Side, There’s a Boy. It tells the tale of a woman who doesn’t know that she even contemplates having children until she begins to dream—of one particular boy in Sri Lanka, whom she has known only through letters, so only half-known—and to see that he is what she wanted: even, what she may still want. It’s a kind of fantasy experience, parallel to her real life.

Aptly, her story echoes much that has happened to me. So these days, I’m learning to live with my shadow lives, to let them be and wend their ways, sometimes even to enjoy them.

I think I’ll term myself an AMo. Meaning “I love” in Latin, it also suggests that I’m a kind of Alternative Mother, somehow living both lives, the one I have and the one I didn’t, in harmony.

Paula Coston’s On the Far Side, There’s a Boy is available in paperback and e-book on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/paulacoston

Our Stories: Justine

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesSerious back problems (including surgeries and a year spent in a body cast) in her youth caused Justine to never be able to carry a pregnancy, so she didn’t think much about becoming a mother. Then the gestational surrogacy option became a media darling, and she started to think about new possibilities for creating a family. Justine and her husband endured two rounds of IVF, two transfers, and the loss of three potential babies. She’s 34 now. They have stopped all treatments, know that adoption is not an option, and are actively working to accept a childfree life together. Here’s some of her story.

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

Justine: Always fighting this feeling of not belonging. In every sense of the traditional woman my age, I will not belong because I am not a mother. However, I have learned that I will always belong, even when I do not feel I fit in, because that is my right and worthiness.

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

Justine: That I will always be a mother. I mother and parent my dogs. I mother and parent my clients as a therapist. I mother and parent all the children in my life. I just mother and parent in a different way, and in a lot of ways, I have a bigger audience than I would have if I’d had my own children. I also get to have different—not necessarily better, but just different—relationships with all of the children in my life because I am not their actual parent.

LWB: What have you learned about yourself?

Justine: I’m a lot stronger and braver than I thought I was, especially in owning my story with courage.

LWB: What’s one thing you want other people (moms, younger women, men, grandmothers, teachers, strangers) to know about your being childfree?

Justine: I think a lot of times we are considered to be sad and bitter women, or people feel major pity for us. I think after we do our work of recovering from struggles we can actually have better and happier lives. It took major work to get to this side. My sad and bitter moments are few and far between, but I have to stay on top of my recovery.

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

Justine: I hit people with the truth and take the teaching moment. I usually say something to the effect that we tried to have our own children but can’t. I might say that we are learning to accept a childfree life, but we have a lot of children in our lives through our friends and family.

LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?

Justine: Continue my recovery, especially getting stronger in it. I will continue to work on my blog, Ever Upward [see below]. I hope that it can reach more and more women and continue to open up the conversation to the other side of infertility.

 

On Ever Upward, Justine shares more of her story and addresses how we can “really own” our own stories. Learn more about Justine—and about her upcoming book—here.

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.

Our Stories: Kay

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Our StoriesAfter 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

People at beach drinking having a partyOne 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. 

Ms. Cellophane

By Lisa Manterfield

Orate Mirror in the Corner of a RoomHave 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?

Danielle LaPorte on Soul Soup

Photo Credit: Sherri Koop

Danielle LaPorte posted this inspirational article on her blog earlier this week: Soul Soup. (Keep this in mind when you’re falling apart.) Naturally, it caught my attention.

Danielle writes:

“There will be a time, a passage when you don’t really know who you were, or are, or can be. It’s natural, it’s divine, and it’s the chemistry of beautiful, awesome change.

This passage can happen in big dramatic swells, as years of not quite knowing what you want to do; or seasons of confusion that aren’t quite depressing, but confusing enough to invite sadness in. This can happen in compressed bouts of uncertainty before you do something new or monumental.”

If you’re feeling lost right now, not sure what the future holds for you and uncertain who you will be, if not a mother, you are making Soul Soup.

This is a time of transition. Trust that you will emerge from the forest. And trust that you will find who you are and who you are meant to be. For now, have faith in the Soul Soup.