Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Our Stories: Sarah

 

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I think a lot of us can relate to Sarah’s story. Following three miscarriages, she is now, at age 36, facing a life without children and struggling to accept her new path. When asked “What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?” she said, “Knowing what I am missing, imagining the ‘ghosts’ of my nonexistent children just doing everyday things. We only have one life to live, and I am never going to get to experience being a mother in my life.”

That last comment is just a dagger to my heart. I can feel the pain of her losses as I read the details of her story, and I hope after you’ve read it, you’ll offer her some sisterly understanding and compassion in the Comments.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Sarah: I always wanted kids. I remember how I felt the first time a baby fall asleep on my chest when I was babysitting. Now I feel like my soul has been hollowed out from my chest, leaving a gaping hole.

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

Sarah: Three miscarriages, all the tests, no explanation. Now my husband says he can’t do it anymore, can’t see me go through it again.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Sarah: Angry, beyond sad, torn between acceptance, and trying behind my husband’s back since he said no to IVF.

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

Sarah: In my head I say “None living.” I wish I could say it out loud. But usually I just say “No” and do whatever I can to get away.

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Sarah: My dogs are my salvation. I don’t know what I would do without them. I look forward to being able to be a great dog mom and spending more time on my own life.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Sarah: There is so much out there on infertility, but it’s always about people trying to get pregnant. I am so glad to see that some people are here saying they are working on living childfree. It’s better than dwelling on infertility. I have spent 20 years thinking about being pregnant and having kids. Here I can start to change the conversation.

 

Where are you on your journey? Are your wounds raw? Have you made some progress toward accepting a life without children? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

Whiny Wednesday: The Baby Shower


This 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.

Our Stories: Theresa

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I read through Theresa’s answers to the Our Stories questionnaire, I cried at my desk. This is what despair sounds like, I thought. And I totally get it, because I remember all too well what it feels like.

My first instinct was to tell her “You’re going to be okay!”, but there’s no guarantee, and that response is not fair to her. Theresa’s pain is raw and real, and this is where she is today.

At the same time, I believe she will get through it. She’s already demonstrating that she’s brave enough (although she may not yet realize how brave she is) to go to that deep, dark, ugly place of grieving, a stage that many of us know must be experienced before we can begin to move on. And I know from reading so many other stories from this wonderfully safe and supportive community that there is a next stage…and a next.

As you read this, if you see yourself in Theresa’s story, I want you to know, You are not alone. If you see a former self in her story, I hope you’ll reach out to Theresa in the Comments to tell her where you are today and offer some hope or encouragement, if you can, or sisterly understanding, if you can’t.

In any case, please be gentle with yourself today.

 

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Theresa: Shattered.

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

Theresa: Not by choice. I waited, wanting everything to be right. Was told by a gynecologist that it’d be “difficult” for me to conceive naturally. At 39, and never having gotten pregnant naturally, I decided I needed to come to terms with it and thought I had. Nope. At 44, I found myself pregnant. A miracle!!! Doctors were shocked. I was speechless and over the moon. Testing and questionnaires done, on the prenatal vitamins…but at the ultrasound appointment two weeks later, they saw nothing. The doctors took blood and informed me I would miscarry and the baby was no longer viable.

I don’t understand! Then the doctor started probing into my medical history: Had I ever been pregnant or miscarried? NO. Had I ever received a transfusion? NO. Yet here I am with O- blood and anti-Jk(a) antibodies already somehow “sensitized”.

I couldn’t even miscarry properly; I was issued the morning after pill to “flush it out”. “It”?? You mean my dreams? Yes, those.

My ob-gyn says my partner is Rh+ and my already-sensitized blood turned on my dream and terminated the baby. The doctor says I should never even attempt to get pregnant anymore because the rate of miscarriage increases with each, and IF I was “somehow able to carry to term, the baby would either be born with blue baby syndrome, severe deficit, or stillborn.”

It has been two years of heavy medications for anxiety/depression and PTSD, and I’m no closer to coming to terms with this than day one.

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

Theresa: I quickly change the subject before the surface is scratched and I begin to tear up without control.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Theresa: Broken.

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

Theresa: Living.

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

Theresa: Somehow finding some acceptance.

 

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.

Our Stories: Lynn

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

“I am on the swim up, but I haven’t broken the surface yet,” Lynn* says, in answer to where she is on her journey. “At the same time, I feel scared to break free of it, to let it go. I feel stuck; I’m scared to turn the corner.”

Now 41, she’s been on the infertility/ran out of time rollercoaster for several years. Although she’s starting to make peace with her path, she continues to wrestle with the heartbreaking losses of the dream of holding her newborn and looking into familiar eyes in a new face, the memories that will never be made, and “all of the love that I have to give to that child that will never be given.”

Yet she continues to look for hope. “Some people come out the other end of this situation and say that they now know how strong they are, and that they can get through anything,” she says. “What I am learning is that I can survive, and that it’s okay to feel all of it. It’s even okay to be weak sometimes.”

 After reading her story, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the comments. Perhaps you can share with her your own answer to the last question.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Lynn: I can’t honestly say that I spent my younger years yearning to be a mom like so many women do. I did want children, but it always seemed like a goal for the next phase of my life: when I was a little older, when I had a better job, when I had a husband, etc. I had a long-term boyfriend in my early 20s, and I wanted to get married and start a family, but he was not interested. I did finally leave him and spent the next 10 years being very single. By the time I was in my mid-30s, I was overwhelmed by the desire to be a mom. I had spent so many years concentrating on my job and dating, but I felt no purpose in my life. Most of the men I dated were a mess, and I started to doubt that I would ever find something real. I met my husband when I was 38, and he was definitely worth the wait. We started trying to get pregnant even before we got married, then quickly learned it was not going to be an easy road for us. We did all of the drugs, intrauterine insemination (IUI), and then in vitro fertilization (IVF).

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)

Lynn: Can I be all of these things at once? (LOL) I guess I am crawling toward acceptance, but still struggling with a little bit of depression. And I would be lying if I said that I didn’t harbor a secret hope for a miracle way down deep inside of me.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Lynn: Not sure I have totally hit that yet, but we did a round of IVF a little over a year ago. They were only able to harvest one egg, and although it looked good at first, it didn’t end up taking. We have thought about using an egg donor, but my husband is not willing to put us in $25,000 worth of debt to do it. At our age, we wouldn’t have that paid off until retirement (if we were lucky enough to pay it off at all).

I had an early miscarriage a few months ago. It was the first time in my entire life I had ever been pregnant. It came and went quickly, and it has been awful. I had just started down the road to acceptance, and then it happened. After fighting the anger, depression, and heartache of not being able to have a child, there is a part of me that wants to come up out of the depths of all of this and see what the next part of my life is going to look like.

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

Lynn: My husband and I are seeing a counselor, and she told me that I am grieving and that it’s so important to try to channel the emotions I have into something healthy and constructive. I have been journaling a lot, and it seems to be helping.

LWB: What advice would you like to give to your younger self?

Lynn: Be aware of your fertility and be proactive about it at an earlier age. Don’t just assume that you have forever to make it happen or that because celebrities have children in their 50s or your aunt’s cousin’s mother got pregnant when she was 47 that you can too. It’s harder than you think, and much harder than we are led to believe by our culture and media.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Lynn: The honesty and empathy shown here is everything. When I read women’s stories and read your posts, I don’t feel alone. Thank you for that.

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

Lynn: That I could reach past the survival phase and reach a place where I can thrive. I want to find myself again. I feel like my personality, my “mojo,” has been lost through all of this. I hope my husband and I can start to embrace our lives and celebrate that we found each other. I want us to fully enjoy the rest of our lives together.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Lynn: I don’t have one. However, I am in the market for one if you know where I can find one. 🙂

 

*We allow each contributor to choose another name, if she wishes, to protect her privacy.

What is your Plan B? Or are your wounds so raw that you can’t even imagine a happy future? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

 

 

Throwing a “Moving On from Infertility!” Party

By Lisa Manterfield

Our private community now boasts close to 3,000 members and I’m extremely proud of the support and camaraderie we offer one another.

Periodically, someone leaves and I wish her a silent farewell and good luck. Members don’t often fill in the note about why they’re leaving, but when they do, it’s usually along the lines of “Yippee! I’m pregnant. See you later, sucka!”

Ok, it’s never like that, but you get the idea. Women generally leave Life Without Baby to pursue life with baby, and I have to admit that it always stings a little.

Recently, though, one member left and gave this wonderful reason:

“I am moving on from my identity as a childless woman.”

I wanted to throw her a party. She’s not leaving because she’s no longer a childless woman; she’s leaving because she no longer wants to carry around that label and all the stigma and resentment that can come along with it. She’s moving on, I assume, to embrace her life as a woman, with all its facets.

We play many roles in our lives and carry an assortment of identities. Sometimes those identities no longer suit us and we have to let them go. And while I’m sorry to lose a member, I truly wish her nothing but a wonderful life.

Making the Best of a Life Without Children

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?

Our Stories: Melek

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

“It’s really hard to admit that one is suffering from not having children,” Melek* writes. “It’s like admitting being lonely. There is an amount of shame in this.” She further ponders how things might have been easier in ancient Greece, when you could blame the gods when things didn’t go your way. But in today’s world, “we are supposed to be in charge of our own happiness and fate,” despite limitations, flaws, circumstances beyond our control, and realities defined by our biology.

When she was 40, Melek confronted some of those realities and explored options for becoming a single parent, but the discouragement she encountered sent her into a downward spiral. Now, at 50 and single, she’s wrestling with facing what appears to be a lonely future—although I will say I’m encouraged by her fun answer to “What are you looking forward to now?”

Can you relate to her story? If so, I hope you’ll reach out to her in the Comments.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Melek: My dream of motherhood is very much inspired by my own childhood from age 12 years and on, with me, my brother, and our mother living on our own, a small group of survivors in a new country. The strong bond to my mother and the feeling of belonging and being safe is something I would have liked to pass on, and relive, with my own daughter. This is something you can’t share with friends or a partner, or compensate for with activities, however meaningful they may be. I know, because I have been a creative person, expressing myself through both art and writing, my whole life.

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

Melek: Between the ages 20 to 30, I was struggling with eating disorders and had no energy and motivation for relationships. After 30, I started to desperately look for a partner, but ended up with men who neither wanted children nor loved me enough. I tried to imagine being a single parent, but I didn’t have the courage or the determination. In the end, I didn’t meet a good enough partner and waited too long to make the decision to become a single parent.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Melek: I’m at the point when you really realize what it means, and what it will mean, to not have any children; a stage filled with fear, sadness, and overwhelming regrets.

The older we get, it also gets harder to find friends. There is only one possible “fan club” for older, non-celebrity women, and that is her own family of children and grandchildren. Most of us living in the modern world await loneliness and isolation.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Melek: I was 40 and I held a newborn baby for the first time in my life, my niece. I was alone with her in my arms for some minutes, the small body feeling surprisingly heavy, walking back and forth with her in a small room, and suddenly finding myself singing something with no words. I felt a calmness I never had experienced before. Everything disappeared, nothing mattered, it was just us, as if we were one. I left the flat, the baby, and the happy parents, and went straight home, in shock, with only one thing in my head: that I must have a baby of my own. I googled fertility clinics and found one. This was actually my second turning point, when I read the statistics. The success rates for women over 40 becoming pregnant was 1% to 2 %. I went into a depression, turned my back on my family, and spent four years in isolation by my own choice. The next time I saw that baby, she was almost five years old and I was a stranger to her. She never warmed to me and I never warmed to her. Every time I see her I’m reminded of my pain and loss. I’m the stiff aunt that no child would love, instead of the warm woman that I know lives inside me, waiting for something that will bring her to life.

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

Melek: Oh, there is so much that is hard. The feelings mostly, feelings that are buried deep down, but that I know are there. And the realization of the inevitable fate of the lonely woman with no children: dying alone, missed and loved by no one.

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

Melek: I would say have your baby in your twenties. Don’t be afraid of losing your freedom or your identity and all the exciting opportunities you think await you.

And don’t worry that you are not ”ready” for motherhood. Most children survive their childhoods, even if it wasn’t perfect. The image of motherhood as something sacred, demanding total extinction of the female self, is a patriarchal construction. You don’t have to give up yourself or your other dreams. And you can do everything you want in your forties, except (mostly) have a child. This is the one thing, together with certain illnesses, that unfortunately is biologically determined. Be the mother you like to be, but take the step in your twenties.

LWB: How has LWB helped you on your journey?

Melek: Through giving me the opportunity to express myself and put in words things that I normally keep deep inside.

LWB: What do you look forward to now?

Melek: To the tent I’ve just ordered. It’s my first tent and it feels very exciting. I had no idea tents were a whole science. I’m not a gear person, but I could easily become one if I could afford it.

 

*We allow each contributor to choose another name, if she wishes, to protect her privacy.

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.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.

 

It Got Me Thinking…About “The Wall”

By Kathleen Guthrie Woods

I love my gynecologist. She’s smart, she’s about my age, and like me, she’s childfree. So, yes, I believe she “gets” me.

That’s why it continues to gall me that her office still doesn’t “get” how devastating each of my visits are. I make a point of not making eye contact with anyone else in the waiting room. I don’t want to know—I don’t want the possibility of sensing—that the woman sitting across the room from me is in the full bloom of pregnancy. I also don’t want to know if the woman four seats over is falling apart because she’s about to get confirmation that another round of fertility treatments has failed to produce a longed-for baby. Honestly, I have enough on my plate just keeping my own emotions in check as I telepathically beg the nurse to call my name next.

And I’m pretty successful until I walk past the gatekeeper and enter the hallway where I’m once again faced with The Wall.

Technically, it’s one long wall with three bulletin boards overloaded with healthy baby and family photos. Hello, knife to the heart! There’s no avoiding it. It’s literally IN MY FACE as I make my way to the scale, then to the ladies’ room, then back into the hallway and to the exam room. I get one last look as I head out, and I typically manage to hold myself together as I ride down the elevator (sunglasses on, just in case), exit the building into the glaring sunlight, and all but crawl into my car where I let it all go.

Failure. Loser. Incomplete Woman. Freak of Nature. These are all the labels I give myself as I process my annual confrontation with The Wall.

With this being National Infertility Awareness Week, I wish my doctor and her staff could be more, well, aware. For the sign on their office does not read “Health Care for Mommies Only” or “Doctor of Pregnant and Breastfeeding Women”. It’s supposed to be an office that provides health care for all women. Although my reproductive system may have exceeded its best if used by date, I am still going in for my routine physical checkups, I continue to be a paying customer, and (dangit) I’d like to be represented on The Wall.

So, here are my suggestions:

  • In the waiting room, post images of a variety of women, such as prints of famous works of art from different eras. Maybe one is a classic Mary Cassatt mother and child painting (By the way, did you know Cassatt was childfree?), then choose from the abundance of works by Botticelli, Michelangelo, Berthe Morisot, or Annie Leibovitz.
  • Or go abstract and hang a bunch of prints by Georgia O’Keeffe, you know, those floral images that subtly represent healthy female reproductive organs.
  • On The Wall, post photos of healthy women, all women. You don’t need to take out the babies and families—they have their place here too—but add to the mix your other patients, the single women, the lesbian women, the families of two, and the post-menopausal women who are still kicking, who tell their whole life stories in the lines on their faces.

I hope that I’ll see some changes on The Wall when I go in for my next checkup. But honestly, I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to look.

 

Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.

 

Our Stories: Nora

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

Nora endured devastating abuse from her parents and from a former husband. With such dysfunction in her world, becoming a mother wasn’t something she dreamed about. Then she discovered she was pregnant. “I wanted to keep the baby very much,” she says, “but the situation was too dire.” So she made the heartbreaking decision to end the pregnancy.

With the help of therapy and work in creative fields, she has survived her youth and has healed herself “to the point of being able to live in a loving relationship” with a wonderful fiancé. “I can finally do something productive with my life,” she writes, yet at the same time, feelings of doubt and failure pop up as she wrestles with the results of her choices (oh, how I hate that word).

I hope you’ll offer her words of compassion and encouragement in the Comments, especially if you can relate to her story and have escaped an abusive situation yourself.

LWB: Describe your dream of motherhood.

Nora: I honestly never pictured myself as a mother. The whole idea felt too foreign to me, as I came from a religious family that was profoundly dysfunctional and had no internalized positive image of motherhood. I came to terms with the reality of being an orphan after I disowned my abusive parents and cut contact with my younger siblings who were my only other relatives. I started therapy as early as I could, driven also by the fear that if I didn’t arrive at a point of healing soon enough, I might be too old to create a loving family of my own when that day finally arrived. I have found this to be common among victims of child abuse.

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

Nora: Circumstance. I believe if I had had a semi-functional family background, I would have made better relationship choices in my 20s and I´d feel encouraged to plan for a family with my fiancé now.

I had an abortion at 27 when I unfortunately became the victim of a serial fraudster, a foreigner who married me and then took all my money. This man took advantage of my profound longing for family and for love. I wanted to keep the baby very much, but the situation was too dire. He was threatening me, and I was in danger of developing serious STDs, which could have affected the child, too. It all happened so fast.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Nora: Sometimes I think about that abortion, that somehow I “could have made it”, living in a shelter house, alone in a foreign country. But then I come back to my senses and realize it was the best decision. I would never want to bring a child into the mess I grew up in. The possibility of having a family is fading in front of my eyes when I realize that nothing is going to happen unless I put substantial effort into creating a suitable environment for a child—and I feel too hollow and tired to pursue it. I never really expected to become a mother, so it doesn’t surprise me. It just feels of empty and out of reach for me.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Nora: When I moved in with my fiancé, into his one bedroom apartment, it finally dawned to me that it’s never going to happen. He is a bachelor, 10 years older, and looking forward to his military pension. But I think we both find the fantasy somewhat comforting, that we “still can change our minds.”

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

Nora: Feeling like a failure, like I am not “good enough”, normal, natural, whatever. But I guess it’s cruel to measure oneself against other people’s standards. None of them has walked in my boots.

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

Nora: Somebody related the question of motherhood to a form of immortality, and said it is viable through creating children or something else of lasting value, like art.

LWB: What’s your Plan B?

Nora: I want to become a writer and documentarist. I find art and writing very fulfilling, but also it asks for your full being to be present. Sometimes I feel I have already given up some of that creativity by entering a close relationship, but I don’t regret that. I love my fiancé, and I can picture living a happy life together.

 

What is your Plan B? Or are your wounds so raw that you can’t even imagine a happy future? We can all benefit from hearing about your experiences, plus we’d like to support you. Please visit the Our Stories page to get more information and the questionnaire, and consider sharing your story with women who truly understand what you’re going through.

Did you know Kathleen Guthrie Woods is getting ready to tell her own story? The Mother of All Dilemmas follows her journey of pursuing being a single mother then embracing a life without children, and explores the reasons our society still presumes to calculate a woman’s worth based on whether or not she’s a mother. Keep an eye on LifeWithoutBaby.com for announcements about the book’s release.