Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

It Got Me Thinking…About Pot

By Kathleen Guthrie

Down the street and around the corner from my home is a medical marijuana dispensary—one of two in our neighborhood. I am 100% in support of pot being used to ease the side effects of chemotherapy and other excruciating conditions, but I get really irritated when carloads of 20-something guys swing by on Thursday afternoons for their weekend party supplies.

 

I’m reminded of why I never tried it. Twenty or so years ago, I read something that said when you smoked marijuana, elements from the drug could settle into your fat cells. Specifically in women, it could lie dormant in your eggs and eventually result in birth defects in your future children. That was enough for me. I politely declined to join my friends when joints got passed around, and frankly, felt a little smug about my decision to be drug-free. In the end, it would pay off with happy, healthy children, right?

 

Fast-forward and I’m now at the time in my life when it’s clear I won’t be having kids. And, you know what, I’m a little pissed. All those years I spent exercising, eating right, not drinking, not smoking, not doing drugs so that my body would support a pregnancy—all for squat!

 

So I think it’s time I start making up for my unnecessary sacrifices. I’m too afraid of jail to experiment with illegal substances (much to the relief of my fiancé, who is in law enforcement), but I am thinking a gluttonous feast of sushi, Lemon Drop martinis, and chocolate, chocolate, chocolate is in order.

 

 

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She believes “Life is what happens when you’ve made other plans.”

Getting away from it all

Mr. Fab and I love to travel and long ago set a goal of visiting one new country and one new U.S. city every year. In the early days we checked off Canada, Brazil, Italy, and Tahiti, and explored Seattle, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. But over the last couple of years our circle of exploration has shrunk and some of the top destinations on our wish list remain uncharted, at least to us.

For a number of years, I didn’t want to risk a trip to Guatemala, Colombia or China, just in case I got pregnant and ended up with Junior tagging along in utero to some malaria infested region. After that episode, we both threw ourselves into our careers as an avoidance technique regarding the lack of Junior’s arrival.

Now we’re tired. Planning a trip sounds like so much work right now, and the idea of arriving in a strange city where we don’t speak the language – something that was once the major thrill of travel – seems so unappealing. What we really want to do is hole up in a cottage somewhere quiet, where we can walk to dinner and spend peaceful days reading, talking and napping. But that all sounds very middle-aged to me.

Maybe the solution is to take the sedentary vacation and use the quiet downtime to plan an adventure for next year, but somehow that defeats the object of getting away to unplug and unwind, doesn’t it?

What’s changed for you in the past few years? Do you have passions that could use a rekindle? Does making the effort just sound like too much effort? If so, do you have a favorite way to reboot yourself when you’re dragging, like I am? I certainly could use some suggestions.

It Got Me Thinking…About Gallbladders

By Kathleen Guthrie

I was in my 20s when my favorite aunt had her gallbladder removed. As I recall, she told me it was due to pressure from when she was pregnant, and any woman who had more than two babies would have to have the same surgery. My mom, a mother of three, provided further proof when she had a cholecystectomy, as did many of her childbearing friends. So, naturally, I assumed some day, after I was done having babies, I’d lose mine.

Now, as a childfree woman, I look back and wonder if that was all a bunch of old wives hooey. And you know what, it’s not! According to the University of Maryland Medical Center, “Pregnancy increases the risk for gallstones, and pregnant women with stones are more likely to have symptoms than nonpregnant women.”

And I think, “HA!” Not only do I get to skip the wretchedness of morning sickness and the flesh-ripping pains of childbirth, but I get to keep my gallbladder too. Score another point for the joys of being childfree!

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer and a regular contributor to LifeWithoutBaby. She’s starting to see the upside of being childfree.

Whiny Wednesday: A Pregnancy Announcement

I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail. Let me repeat that. I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail, not a birth announcement, but a card informing me of a potential birth, a birth that is forecast to happen next year!

I was especially surprised because I’d seen the return address on the envelope and knew that the sender was a woman in her late 50s! Turns out it was an announcement of a grandchild-to-be. I know. But wait, it gets stranger. Tucked inside the card was a copy of a sonogram image of my friend’s daughter-in-law’s uterus and her 12-week old peanut.

Now granted, I’m a little old-fashioned in these regards. Coming from a culture that subscribes to the “don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched” mantra, it took me a while to adapt to the idea of baby showers and giving gifts before a baby is born. And frankly, after my own dabbling in infertility, and having heard your stories, I’m beginning to think that this notion of waiting isn’t so old-fashioned after all.

To say this least, this pregnancy announcement caught me off guard and, all things considered, I think a phone call would have sufficed, don’t you?

It’s Whiny Wednesday and this is what’s under my skin this week. What’s under yours?

Whiny Wednesday: A Pregnancy Announcement

I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail. Let me repeat that. I just received a pregnancy announcement in the mail, not a birth announcement, but a card informing me of a potential birth, a birth that is forecast to happen next year!

I was especially surprised because I’d seen the return address on the envelope and knew that the sender was a woman in her late 50s! Turns out it was an announcement of a grandchild-to-be. I know. But wait, it gets stranger. Tucked inside the card was a copy of a sonogram image of my friend’s daughter-in-law’s uterus and her 12-week old peanut.

Now granted, I’m a little old-fashioned in these regards. Coming from a culture that subscribes to the “don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched” mantra, it took me a while to adapt to the idea of baby showers and giving gifts before a baby is born. And frankly, after my own dabbling in infertility, and having heard your stories, I’m beginning to think that this notion of waiting isn’t so old-fashioned after all.

To say this least, this pregnancy announcement caught me off guard and, all things considered, I think a phone call would have sufficed, don’t you?

It’s Whiny Wednesday and this is what’s under my skin this week. What’s under yours?

I Failed My Own Test

Do you ever test yourself to see just how well you’re really doing with this whole “coming-to-terms” business? I’ve been doing it a lot lately. I’ve been inserting myself into mothering conversations, just to gauge how it makes me feel. I’ve started smiling at other people’s babies again, to see if it stirs up any dormant emotions. The other week, as I was driving past Babies R Us, I seriously considered pulling in and just walking around the store to see if I could do it. I realized it was a crazy idea, and I went home instead, but I’m pretty sure I would have been okay. Based on all these tests, in fact, I’d say I’m doing pretty well at re-entering the real world, where mothers and babies exist.

So, when I found myself in a conversation with a pregnant woman last week, it really was no big deal. I was genuinely happy for her and chatted about names and the baby’s sex, and how she was doing. No big deal. When she pulled a strange face I asked her if she was okay.

“Oh yes,” she said. “He’s just moving around. ”

I laughed and asked her what it was like.

“Here,” she said. “Do you want to feel him?”

Before I knew it I had my hands on her belly and I was looking at her wide-eyed as I felt her baby’s little backside sticking up in the air and a tiny pointy elbow poking out to one side.

“That’s amazing,” I told her. And it was.

As I drove home later that night, that baby was all I could think about. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a tidal wave of emotions barreling towards me and there was nothing I could do to get out of the way.

I could picture her little guy clearly and I imagined what it must be like to have another human being grow and move inside me. I could feel it. And then the what-ifs started. What if we tried IVF and it worked? What if we found an egg donor; wouldn’t it be worth it to go through that? And even as the logical side of my brain was listing all the good reasons to not even entertain these thoughts, the other side was cooking up a plan to offer myself up as a surrogate for another woman, just so I could experience what it would be like to be pregnant.

I’m not going to tell you that these were fleeting thoughts, nor am I going tell you how I laughed at my craziness and put these silly thoughts behind me; neither of those is true. But I am going to tell you that I know that this won’t be the last time this happens to me. My infertility is up there at the top of the “life-changing events” list in my life. And like the other experiences, it’s always going to be with me. Most of the time it will just hang out in the back of my mind and not give me too much trouble, but every now and then, something is going to trigger my memories and all those emotions will come rushing back. I think that’s just a part of being human.

Infertility’s Cruel Joke

In an earlier post this week, I talked about hope and moving on. The post generated a lot of great comments and a number of people mentioned how hope is like carrying around a bowling ball and that it is impossible to move on as long as you hold onto it. I couldn’t agree more.

I have definitely let go of my “bowling ball.” I am no longer hoping for a miracle pregnancy. Given my condition, it would be virtually impossible. The problem is the “virtually” bit.

Recently, after talking to someone about moving on, she reminded me that it could still happen and that her friend, who had been told she’d never have children, got pregnant at 48!

She was trying to make me feel better, in that “hopey” way, but it didn’t work, and now I can’t get this thought out of my head.

What if I got pregnant now? Hormones do wild things and as menopause approaches (which I’ve been told it is) those hormones have been known to misbehave. What if my body suddenly kicked out that one juicy egg? What if I got pregnant at 48?

Even overlooking all the health risks of being pregnant at 48, my husband is 15 years my senior, which means he’d be in his 80s by the time our child made it out of high school!! My father-in-law is currently 81 and he is no condition to be taking care of a teenager, nor would he want to.

But there’s an even bigger factor at play here. The bowling ball. I’ve let mine go and I don’t want to pick it up again. I can’t say that I no longer want children, because that’s not the entire truth, but I don’t want to live with the hope or the worry that I might get unexpectedly pregnant. I want to keep moving on with the life I’m creating now.

So, I now find myself in the ironic position of being diagnosed infertile but having to consider contraceptive options.

Sometimes I wonder if life isn’t just one big April Fool’s joke.

It Got Me Thinking…About Celebrity Bumps

Oh. My. Gawd! Make it STOP! A December 6 headline reads: “Mariah Carey (and Her Baby Bump) Perform at Disney World.” (If you want to further torture yourself, read the full article here.

First of all, as a professional writer and editor, I must point out that a baby bump cannot “perform” at Disney World or anywhere else. Unless, okay, maybe if the mother-to-be is a belly dancer. But still, mostly impossible.

Secondly, why is this news?! Why should we care?! I think it’s enough that a supremely talented woman is sharing the gift of her amazing voice (although I still don’t think it’s newsworthy). And while I’m happy for any woman who finally gets pregnant after having difficulties, I think it’s jinx-inducing to make such a big hullabaloo in the early and precarious stages of her pregnancy. Most of all, I don’t want to hear about how the parade of expectant celebrities are using the latest fashions to conceal, accentuate, or accessorize their swollen bellies.

I’m possibly just feeling pissy, but I’m starting to think that reinstating the old-fashioned tradition of a woman going into “confinement” once she begins to show could bring a little balance back into our baby bump-obsessed world.

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is learning how to embrace being childfree.