filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
I’ve seen this topic come up a lot in the blog comments, so I know that many of you have experienced this. It’s the topic of caring for aging parents, and whether the responsibility is shared fairly when you don’t have children.
What’s been your experience with this?
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I wept as I read Samreen’s story. Her losses, her anger, her depression cut me to the core, in large part because I know how she is feeling. I wish I could reach across the miles and pull her into a safe and comforting hug. I wish we could all do that for each other. At the very least, I hope you’ll join me in the Comments to let her—and all of us—know, “You are not alone.”
LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.
Samreen: I dream of feeling a baby inside me and bringing her into this world. Raising her, seeing her growing, cuddling her investing my heart and mind in giving her a bright future.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Samreen: By circumstance. I am eight years into marriage. I have had three failed IUIs, two hysteroscopies, and two unsuccessful IVF attempts. We have registered for adoption, but I still want to conceive my own biological child.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Samreen: I feel angry and depressed. I want to accept the infertility factor and move on, but I fail to do so. I feel irritated with the pregnancy news of other women. I feel angry looking at others’ kids. I feel like breaking all connections with the girls/friends who are pregnant and having children. I cry at the thought of not being able to experience motherhood in this lifetime. And these thoughts creep into my mind at least 10 times every day, making me cry.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Samreen: The hardest part is to believe that I will not be able to experience motherhood in this lifetime. People say that it’s a beautiful feeling and nothing can replace it. I wanted to experience it too. I wanted to have child who is a carbon copy of me or my husband, a child who looks like us.
LWB: What have you learned about yourself?
Samreen: I think I am still trying to figure out myself. I do feel scared thinking about the labor pains, but inside the core of my heart, I do crave for a baby that would be my biological child.
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Samreen: “No, we don’t.” But it doesn’t stop at this. The next question always pops up, which has a why in it always. I usually tell them that I am dealing with infertility.
LWB: What do you look forward to now?
Samreen: I look forward to being okay about the fact that I can’t have biological children. I look forward to being a person who has accepted herself with her infertility and inability to deliver a child. I look forward to having peace in my own self and my life. I look forward to being happy.
LWB: What is your hope for yourself this coming year?
Samreen: I feel hopeless and depressed right now.
LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?
Samreen: I am hoping that LWB will be able to bring in acceptance on this topic and help in healing my wounds of infertility.
When Samreen emailed me her story, she mentioned she found Life Without Baby through a search for helping with infertility. Is this how you found us? If so, I hope you will take a little time to explore the site and check out the many resources available, from the safe place to share stories (and whines), to the Forums (sign up under “Community”), to the list of books and other websites that might be of help to you. Please be gentle with yourself today. —KGW
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
It’s been four years since Justine first shared her story with us. I remember reading it for the first time and feeling in awe of the strength she had to state “I will always be a mother,” and how she defined that. Today she continues to impress me with her courage, her candor, her grace as she lives her life.
Her original story, first posted in June of 2014, appears below, followed by her update. The words of encouragement she now offers to her younger self inspire me, and I hope they will inspire you too.
• • •
Serious 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.
• • •
LWB: Where are you on your journey today?
Justine: Grief is lifelong—I will have forever wonders of who my three would be. And, I love my life. Love it. Every day I do the work to honor myself and my three, living in the sacred space of the forever grieving mother and doing the work to make it all a gift. I am the best version of myself, and I got myself back, the better self, after this brutal journey and because I choose to do the daily work of moving through grief, loving myself and others, living authentically, and teaching it to others. Because I am a mother of mothers. Because I am a mother. Because, without a doubt, I choose to love my journey, hard parts and all.
LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?
Justine: Keep going. It will be harder, and most of all, more beautiful, grand, and better than you ever imagined.
Learn more about Justine’s work, her books, and her blog at her website.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
With any kind of grief, there comes a point where those around you expect you to be over it. For many of us, that point comes just as the full impact of loss is hitting us and we are far from okay. So here’s this week’s topic:
The pressure to “get over” your loss
Have you felt that pressure from those around you?
It’s Whiny Wednesday and this is one that always makes me scratch my head:
“Having kids made me grow up.”
So, does this mean I’m not a grown-up? Because if so, I’d like to relinquish all these grown-up responsibilities I seem to have. How about you?
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Anita has known for about 10 years that she’ll not have children. Now 42, she hesitates to describe her dream of motherhood because it isn’t something she allows herself to think about. “To much scratching on this wound can cause it to bleed again,” she says.
But she’s well aware that there are triggers all around us that scratch and wound, and she addresses some of them in her answer to “What’s the hardest part for you about now having children?”
I certainly can relate to what she’s saying, and I sense you will too. After you’ve read her story, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the Comments.
LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.
Anita: I dreamed about nurturing and raising a child of my own, sharing her life, watching her grow.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Anita: Circumstance. My husband had been previously married, and they had a son. Before we married we discussed the “having a baby” question, and we both wanted children. A few years into our marriage, my husband decided against having children.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Anita: Acceptance, and depressed. I am not really sure that one can ever really overcome this. I think this is, like the death of a parent, something you learn to live with.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Anita: In short, it feels as if being without a child has robbed me of interaction with other women. I am forever lurking on the fringes. I’m not a man, but not a “real” woman either. [Following are some of the situations she finds especially difficult.]
LWB: How do you answer “Do you have kids?”
Anita: “No.” Sure, I have a stepson, but he already has a mom. For a while I hoped that I could be his “other” mom, but it wasn’t to be.
LWB: What is the best part about not having children?
Anita: Listening to our neighbor’s child scream seemingly for hours every night, and feeling thankful that it is not our child.
Won’t you share your story with us? The act of answering the questions itself can be very healing, plus we’d like to support you by telling you “You are not alone.” Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childlessness.
By Lisa Manterfield
Thanks to Iris for forwarding this article about living happily without children.
I love this author’s attitude to the hand she’s been dealt. At first read, she seems almost flippant about her inability to have children, but she’s packed a whole life story into one article, and reading between the lines, it’s clear to see the pain she felt, the struggles she and her partner went through in coming-to-terms with being childfree, and the attitudes she still has to endure from others. But her whole outlook was encapsulated in this paragraph:
“We didn’t get to have something. We had 2 choices as a result of that – let it control, dictate and sadden the rest of our lives or find something else to do instead. Either way, we still wouldn’t get to have kids. So which is the best choice?”
Are you still struggling to come to terms with your own situation and feeling that childlessness is “controlling, dictating, and saddening” your life? If so, can you see what your “find something else to do instead” could be? And could you do it?
I don’t this author is trivializing the blow she was dealt – far from it – but I love that she’s found a way to turn her situation to her advantage. What do you think?
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I am so glad I followed up with Amber*, who first shared her story with us in the summer of 2014. She is completely candid about the “dark days” that followed, the hard work it took to begin healing, and the bright spots she’s now able to enjoy in a life without children. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you’ll find some encouragement in her story.
• • •
When Amber is asked, “Do you have kids?” she answers, “We have dogs, which are much easier than children.” There’s a lightness and humor to her answer that puts people at ease, but it doesn’t reflect the challenging journey she’s been on and her amazing strength and perspective. I was struck by the depth and wisdom in her answers to our other questions, and I think you, too, will be moved by her insight. Maybe some of it will strike a chord with you and help you in your healing.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Amber: I actually was never sure I wanted kids, but after some health problems, we were told “Now or never….” I had several surgeries to remove fibroids, and after each surgery I developed Asherman’s Syndrome. Several corrective surgeries, tons of scar tissue reforming, several dangerous ectopic pregnancies later, and then being told our only hope was a surrogate, well…I was fresh out of $75,000. You have to draw the line somewhere.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Amber: I have moved on to live my life and be happy. I still have a wonderful husband and two dogs, and we will always have a wonderful life as long as we are together. I refuse to throw it all away just because we cannot have children. Sometimes people lose sight of what they have while trying to reach another goal. It’s like what Alexander Graham Bell says in my favorite quote:
When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.
LWB: What was the turning point for you?
Amber: Plan A was ruining my life and I was constantly devastated and sad. We were living in limbo between procedures and surgeries hoping for a miracle. As soon as we made the decision to move on, things started getting better and we starting enjoying our life again. We were back in control, and the most important thing was that we had each other. Thank God we had not lost each other in the whole mess. Lord knows I have lost multitudes of friends and family over our journey of infertility.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Amber: I worry about whom we will spend time with as we age, who will pick us up from the nursing home at Christmas. But, then again, some people’s children do not do that. I have to focus on the fact that we will have each other and a wonderful network of family and friends.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Amber: I get to spend all day, every day, with my best friend, and we can do whatever we want together at any given time. We get to take our dogs to the beach two to three times a year, sleep in on Saturdays, buy extravagant things, take naps whenever, hang out at the bar and watch a game, and, most of all, love each other more than anything on this earth.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’ve received?
Amber: This was from my friend Penny, who died way too young: “Life isn’t what it should be, life is what it is. However, we get to choose what to make of it.”
• • •
LWB: How are you doing today?
Amber: I am living my life, but do not get me wrong, I had some dark days after 2014. It was a lot to work through, and I would have probably benefited from counseling, which I did not do. I will say I carry the guilt of our inability to have children, but my husband has never blamed me. At times I feel that I robbed him of a family life, but we have so many things to be thankful for, and our life is so full.
I might sound all “Pollyanna”, like life is all rainbows and unicorns. I promise you that is not the case, as we took a long break for my mental health. I am just an it-is-what-it-is type of person. Quite frankly, I am glad that infertility has been the biggest tragedy in my adult life. I have lived longer than my own mother, who died of cancer in her 30s. I see people all around me losing their health, their spouses, their jobs, or their homes. Worst of all, I have seen people lose their happiness, which encompasses countless things, because they are holding onto anger and resentment.
The best advice I can give is: Do not lose what is sitting in front of you, do not take what you do have for granted. Get rid of the resentment and anger however you must, and live your life. My life is not bad without children. As a matter of fact, many people envy us for our lifestyle. I am so sorry for everyone reading this, as I would not wish infertility on my worst enemy. Just know that you can pick up the pieces after some healing and have a happy life. We have countless friends who are our parents’ age, and we all enjoy kid-free activities. We have also reconnected with our childhood friends now that their children are older. None of them even know what we went through. (When you tell people, you must be prepared for their well-meant but stupid responses.) We have our dogs, tennis, work, we know every bartender in a ten-mile radius, extra money, and so many other things. To sum it all up, we are living a happy life.
LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?
Amber: Ahh…this is a loaded question. First and foremost: Go talk to a counselor! Perhaps even join a grief group if your reproductive endocrinologist offers one. Talking to people who are going through what you are would be way more helpful than becoming resentful of all the stupid things family and friends say trying to help you. Trust me, nothing they say will help you unless it is “Oh, I have $75,000 to give you” or “Oh, I can carry your baby for free.”
Do not feel guilty—it is not your fault. Only time will help you heal and, unfortunately, you are going to have to suffer through it to get to the other side, but the other side is better! While you drown in your grief, make a list of all the things you should be thankful for. It is a much longer list when you start writing it down. Help your spouse through their grief too. You are not the only one suffering.
You have a purpose in life, and that purpose was not just to have children. You must find your purpose, your passion, and your happiness. Time is the only thing in this world that you cannot get more of no matter what you do. What you do with your time is the most precious thing you have on earth. Choose what to do with it wisely.
This (see photo below) is what kept me going, part of my passion and my purpose.
*Not her real name. We allow each respondent to use a fictitious name for her profile, if she chooses.
Won’t you share your story with us? Go to the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods got goosebumps when she saw the above photo of Amber and her dog. How wonderful and inspiring to see Amber embracing and enjoying her Plan B life!
As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I’ve been catching up with some of our early contributors to this column because I’ve wanted to hear how they’re doing. Naturally, I’m hoping for good—if not great—news about new-found passions, successful Plans B and C, adventures on roads that might not have been taken.
But this is real life. Each of our journeys toward healing goes at its own pace, over its own terrain. Kay’s* road has been full of hard bumps, and when I asked her if she would update us on her life today, she initially replied, “I’m not sure that my story is one that will be of any benefit to anyone.” I’m saddened to hear this—and I disagree. For sometimes the benefit we can give each other is saying, “You are not alone.”
After you’ve read Kay’s original story (first posted in 2014) and update below, I hope you’ll add a Comment. Then I hope you’ll consider sharing your own story. Visit the Our Stories page for information and the questionnaire.
• • •
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.”
• • •
LWB: How are you doing today?
Kay: I have medical issues that are debilitating, and while I try very hard to be upbeat and positive, I’m much worse than four years ago. Because of these issues, I’ve not been able to follow through with aged-out foster children.
I struggle not to be bitter about life, and I am very thankful for the things I do have: supportive husband, friends and family, our home and cats, a decent functional medicine (semi-alternative) doctor. I think I have the bitterness under control, but I am sad (not clinically depressed) often, feeling that we’ve missed so much.
LWB: What would you like to say to the you of 2014?
Kay: The question about what to say to my younger self is a conundrum. I guess I would simply tell myself that, with my genetic structure, medical intervention does more damage than benefit, and it would be best to eschew it. And “Embrace life more fully.” I was raised with the belief that “good things come to those who wait” hand in hand with “the meek will inherit the earth,” and those two things combined lead to too much passively waiting and watching life pass by.
*To protect respondents’ privacy, we allow each to choose a name for her profile. It may or may not be fictitious.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is inspired by the strength and courage of every woman who has shared her story here.
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.
~ "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."
