Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

How We Heal Our Emotional Scars

Woman walking alone on beach

I have a large scar on my left knee. It has black lines of grit in it, and smooth patches of scar tissue that catch the light on an otherwise rough patch of skin.

My scar is 30 years old and I don’t think about it very often anymore. It doesn’t hurt, even when I poke it, and the wound that caused it healed long ago.

But if I think back to the day I got my scar, all the memories and the pain come flooding back. I remember the bike accident. I remember riding through the trees on a gorgeous sunny day, laughing with my friends and flirting with a boy I liked. I remember trying to get his attention and catching my front wheel on his back tire. I don’t recall sailing through the air, but I must have done, because I do remember skidding along the trail, trading bits of knee for bits of trail.

I remember sitting in the bath at home and crying as my mum tried to clean the wound. And I remember my older brother—a bit of an expert on injuries and scars—gently coaxing me to scrub out the grit or be left with a terrible scar.

I also have a vague recollection of a discussion among adults (not my parents) about plastic surgery and what a shame it would be if a “pretty girl” was disfigured by an ugly scar.

It all happened so long ago, but dredging up these memories can bring back all that pain, my embarrassment, the tenderness of my brother, the feeling that my scar would make me “less than” I could have been. I can feel all of it again as if it had happened in more recent memory.

Emotional Scars

I feel this way about my infertility and childlessness, too. Most days, I don’t think about it anymore. But lately I’ve been writing about grief and loss, and some of those awful feelings of sadness, anger, and deep, deep loss have been coming back to me.

It’s taught me that the healing process for emotional scars is much the same as for physical scars.

You have to suffer some terrible pain to clean the wound. You have to struggle through the initial all-consuming grief. You have to ask for support from people who might not know how to give it. You have to walk again, even if every step is agony. You’ll meet people who will see you as damaged and less than you could have been, because you no longer fit into their ideal of perfect.

But over time the healing begins. You’ll knock your healing wound a few times and break it open again. In one particularly unfortunate incident, you’ll fall on the same wound and end up with a double scar. But you’ll remember how much you loved riding a bike and you’ll take it up again. And you’ll meet new people, who don’t care whether you have one ugly knee, because they’re more interested in some other facet of who you are. And you’ll realize that being a “pretty girl” wasn’t what you were destined to be anyway, and you’re happy being an outdoorsy girl who’s accumulated a multitude of scars since then.

And when you’re shaving your legs (which is trickier because of the scar) you might sometimes recall how you got the scar and the pain you went through. But most days, you won’t even think about.

Having a big scar on my knee means I never got the opportunity to be a leg model, but I got to be so many other things instead, things that have made my life journey quite interesting. My infertility scar is much newer than my knee scar, but it is healing in ways I couldn’t have imagined when it was new and raw. And the things I never got to do or be have left room for so many other opportunities.

Our Stories: Karina

As told to Kathleen Guthrie Woods

When I first read Karina’s story, I was struck by how much of it I could relate to. Then her answer to “What’s the best advice you’ve received?” gave me chills (in a good way). “YES!” I all but yelled at my laptop.

I hope you find some encouragement here.  xoxoKathleen

 

LWB: Briefly describe your dream of motherhood.

Karina: Motherhood wasn’t something I really dreamed about. Because I experienced significant trauma as a young child, it made the idea of motherhood actually a little scary for me. I thought about it, yes, many times, especially as my 35th birthday approached. But my thoughts on motherhood were always a bit ambivalent; there was always the fear somewhere in the back of my head. But one day my desire to experience motherhood became stronger than my fear and I just knew I wanted to be one.

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

Karina: I am childfree by circumstance. I was almost 40 by the time my husband and I married, so we began trying right away. We spent three heart-breaking years trying to make our baby dreams a reality.

LWB: Where are you on your journey now?

Karina: I’m crawling toward acceptance. I still can’t go to baby showers. It’s still difficult to see pregnant women. I still have seconds-long fantasies that a miracle happens. I still have bad days. But I started therapy about a year ago and I have more good days than bad days now. Sometimes I can even talk about my experience and not get teary-eyed. I know it’ll continue getting easier each day, but I don’t think the pain ever goes away completely. It just becomes a smaller part of who you are.

LWB: What was the turning point for you?

Karina: My turning point started when we lost our three little embryos in our one and only IVF cycle. We were absolutely devasted. After years of trying, countless treatments, an early miscarriage, and a surgery to remove some uterine fibroids, we prayed that IVF would finally be the answer. But it was not to be. I had never in my life felt so hopeless and so completely broken physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I didn’t leave our house for two weeks. Somewhere in all that darkness, though, I found the strength to finally get help and began seeing a therapist. I’ve been in therapy for a year now and having recently celebrated my 43rd birthday, I can say that I’m ready to turn the page and begin this next chapter of my life. I’m ready to discover this new version of myself.

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

Karina: Not experiencing pregnancy and the miracle of giving birth. Not knowing what our children would have looked like and which traits they would’ve inherited from each of our families. Knowing our family tree ends with us. Those are the things that I struggle with the most.

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

Karina: My nieces and nephew. I spoil them rotten and I enjoy every moment!

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

Karina: Sometimes you have to let go of the life you that hoped for and trust in the life that is.

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

Karina: I know it hurts so much right now. I know it hurts so much that sometimes you think you won’t ever feel whole again. But you will; you are stronger than you know. It’s going to be very hard, but you will make it through. Because this is not the end for you. It’s only the beginning.

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

Karina: To live our best life one day at a time.

 

This Year, Aim for Progress Rather Than Perfection

Well, here we are in 2019, and I think it’s safe to say that most of us are ready to see the back of last year. Between political craziness, tragic news stories, and a general feeling of uneasiness in the world, I’m ready for a fresh start.

I do love the New Year for the potential it brings in terms of a clean slate and the chance to make big changes. And yet, in the past, I’ve ended up putting pressure on myself to fix all the things that are wrong with me. My goals have included losing weight, exercising more, doing a better job of keeping in touch with people, and on and on—a long list of things I’m doing wrong.

But a couple of years ago, I started to change my outlook. Instead of treating myself like something broken that needed fixing, I began looking for my potential and making progress with the things I’m doing right. Last week, I wrote a post about it, Looking for Potential. Do take a look as I think you’ll find it a kinder, gentler way of approaching the New Year.

So, as we go into this year, I want to encourage you to be kind to yourself, too. Instead of trying to fix a laundry list of shortcomings, perhaps you could look for where you’ve made progress over the last year and focus your energy there.

For example, let’s say you have a friend who you’ve avoided because her children are the same ages yours would have been and you can’t bear to see her. Maybe you ran into her last year and realized you’ve missed her company. Could you set a goal to reach out to her, give her a call or send a quick email note, maybe broach the topic of getting together?

Or perhaps you’ve been reading this blog for a while or working your way through my, or someone else’s, book and you’ve hit a spot where you feel stuck. Maybe a goal would be to find a therapist, counsellor, or support group and get some additional help.

This healing process takes time. Oh, man, does it take time! But progress is made by inching forward a little at a time. So, don’t try to take giant steps forward. Instead, be kind to yourself and take the tiniest, most doable step possible, something you can actually accomplish and feel good about.

How could you inch forward on your journey this year? What’s the smallest, no-sweat step you could take? Let us know in the comments, and if you need a little encouragement to take it, just ask.

For now, I wish for you a genuinely happy new year.

Whiny Wednesday: Feeling Lost

As the New Year begins and everyone around you is posting about goals for the year ahead, do you find it hard to envision a future that doesn’t include children?

This is the topic for this week’s Whiny Wednesday:

Feeling lost

Tell us what’s going on with you.

Whiny Wednesday: The Last Whine of 2018

It has been a pretty wild year, hasn’t it? I am certainly hoping that 2019 shows some big improvements.

But, before we close out this year, here is your last opportunity to rant this year. It’s an open forum (within reason), so feel free to get things off your chest so we can start fresh next year.

Happy whining!

 

It Got Me Thinking…About Permission

Through the years of being part of our Life Without Baby community, I really thought I’d heard every possible horror story. But recently a friend told me about her nightmare experience at a baby shower, and I am aghast. At that gathering, the hostess introduced a new game: A bag is passed around the room, and each guest pulls out a pregnancy test. (I could not make this up.) When everyone has one, they all look, and the woman holding a positive test announces to the room “I’M PREGNANT!” and wins a prize.

Apparently it’s the hot new trend at baby showers.

It got even worse for my friend. When the bag came to her, she tried to let it pass, but the woman sitting next to her insisted she play. “I’ve taken plenty of pregnancy tests, and they’ve all been negative,” my friend said quietly. “I don’t need to go through this again.” At which point her neighbor took this as an invitation to loudly out my friend as a childless woman and offer advice: “You should try IVF! A friend of a friend had a miracle baby in her late 40s! You could always adopt!”

My friend, who is a much stronger person than I am, managed to laugh it off. Weeks after hearing her tale, my blood is still boiling. I put myself in her shoes and wondered how I would have reacted in that situation. Part of me hopes I would have turned to the intrusive and insensitive stranger and said something like, “F— you and the horse you rode in on,” which would have been inappropriate and rude, but might have made me feel better in the moment.

But the reality is I probably would have just sat there and taken the abuse, while shutting a part of myself down in an attempt to get through the party without dissolving into a sobbing puddle and amplifying an already grotesque public humiliation. Sigh.

Next time—because there will be ladies luncheons, holiday parties, family get-togethers, and other events that will turn sour—what I really hope I will do is stand up and walk out. Period.

And it got me thinking that I could give myself permission to save myself. (This goes for you, too.) I don’t owe anyone any excuses. I don’t even need to say, “Excuse me” as I get up. I suppose I could say, “Where’s the restroom?” to make a graceful exit, but as soon as I am out of range, I could head straight out the door and to my car (and have my meltdown in private).

Would this cause a scene? Perhaps. Would it cause people to talk? Possibly, and maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe my walking out and calling attention to how horribly hurtful something is would get people to think and have some compassion. And at the very least, I might hang on to a shred of my dignity, and that’s worth a lot.

I hope you’ll keep this in mind the next time you’re caught off guard by someone else’s poor choices. I hope you’ll remember that I have given you permission to take care of and stand up for yourself.

We don’t have to take abuse from anyone.

 

Whiny Wednesday: The Things I Can Never Talk About


We’ve all run up against people who don’t understand us or who simply don’t want to hear about “it” any longer. So this week’s Whiny Wednesday is your chance to talk about:

The Things I Can Never Talk About

You are being heard. -x-

Learning to Reset Your Holiday Expectations

By Lisa Manterfield

“Are you the adult you dreamed of becoming?”

I laughed when I read this question on Facebook. No! Of course I’m not. The adult I dreamed of was an international engineering consultant, living in a large house with a circular driveway, with a fabulous husband and four beautiful children, including one set of twins.

Aside from the fabulous husband, that adult is almost the polar opposite of the adult I am now. I’m a writer, who works from my very small rented beach cottage, and of course, there are no children in my picture. And yet, once I stop to consider my friend’s question, I realize that I’m a lot happier as this adult than I would have been had my expectations been met. I’ve met the person I’d once dreamed of becoming; she wasn’t a very happy person and she definitely had more grey hairs than me.

Half the battle of coming-to-terms with a life without children is letting go of our expectations—and creating new ones. This is never more true than during the holiday season, one of the most difficult times of the year to be childless.

When I think of my expectations of what Christmas should be like as an adult, those four children are always there, gathered around the tree, gathered around the dinner table, and then gathered around me as the day comes to a close. Even when I realized that children wouldn’t be part of my life, I still strived to make Christmas live up to my expectations. Consequently, Christmastime was very sad time for a number of years. I knew there was no way my expectations could be met, and eventually I stopped making an effort to celebrate.

The worst year was when my husband and I found ourselves sitting at home, with no Christmas tree, no plans, no celebration, and we knew we’d allowed our lack of children to take over our lives. We also realized it was time to set new, more realistic expectations.

When I took a step back and looked at what I really wanted for Christmas, not on the surface of gifts, family, and decorations, but on a deeper emotional level, I discovered that my spiritual wish list included love, peacefulness, companionship, and a good dose of silly fun. I needed to explore new ways to get what I really wanted.

It took a couple of false starts to find a new way to celebrate Christmas, but a couple of years ago we nailed it. Mr. Fab and I rented an apartment for three days in a nearby beach town. We celebrated on Christmas Eve with a lovely dinner at an historic hotel with an enormous Christmas tree, roving carolers, and even an outdoor ice rink (in Southern California!). On Christmas Day, instead of sitting at home feeling sad about a pathetic Christmas for two, we went to the zoo, like a couple of big kids, and had a whale of a time. I even got to feed a rhino and have an ice cream. We both agreed it was the best Christmas we’ve had for a long time, plus there were no tantrums or mountains of dirty dishes to deal with.

It’s hard to let go of our expectations, especially when they’re often so deeply engrained, but if you’re struggling to find your holiday cheer this year, I encourage you to look beneath the obvious losses and examine what’s really missing for you. Even if you can’t meet your tangible expectations of what the holidays should be, you might be surprised to find you can satisfy your true needs in unconventional—and unexpected—ways.

Sharing Tips for Getting Through the Holidays

By Lisa Manterfield

Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving here in the U.S., perhaps the official start of the holiday season. I’ve been hearing holiday music in stores for weeks, and know of people who’ve had their Christmas trees up since early November!

For many of you, the festive season might not be such a fun time. Traditionally, whichever holidays you celebrate, they include family gatherings, which might mean facing insensitive relatives and prying questions about children. It can be one of the most difficult times of the year, with social gatherings, kid-oriented activities, and constant reminders of the many ways we don’t get to celebrate the holidays.

I love that this community includes new readers and seasoned pros, so let’s help one another out this year by sharing ideas on getting through the season with our hearts intact.

What are some of the issues you know you’ll face this holiday season? What events are you dreading? What’s going to be hardest for you?

And perhaps most important of all, how to do plan to get through the season with minimum emotional damage?

If you’re looking for some guidance from those who’ve walked this path before you, make sure to add yourself to your gift shopping list this year. Here are some books written by members of our community. Please consider supporting their work, so that they can continue supporting all of us.

Lesley Pyne’s Finding Joy Beyond Childlessness: Inspiring Stories to Guide You to a Fulfilling Life shares real-world experiences of infertility survivors alongside Lesley’s gentle guidance. Lesley is a role model for redefining yourself after infertility and finding peace with a childless life.

In Living the Life Unexpected: 12 Weeks to Your Plan B for a Meaningful and Fulfilling Future Without Children, Jody Day takes you by the hand and leads you through her process of facing grief, letting go of lost dreams, and rebuilding a new kind of life.

 

Jessica Hepburn has two books on offer. Her first, The Pursuit of Motherhood tells her own heartbreaking story of her quest to become a mother. In 21 Miles: Swimming in Search of the Meaning of Motherhood, Jessica tells the “next chapter” of her story, her quest to find meaning in her own life and shares inspiring conversations about motherhood with some female powerhouses.


 

Civil M. Morgan offer a 31-Day devotional, 21st Century Hannah: 31 Days of Encouragement on her Childless Not By Choice site.

And I’d be remiss if I din’t include my own books on this list: Life Without Baby: Surviving and Thriving When Motherhood Doesn’t Happen, and Life Without Baby Holiday Companion, a compilation of stories and advice to get you through the holidays, written together with Kathleen Guthrie Woods.

 

I hope you’ll find something here to help you through this difficult time of year.

It Got Me Thinking…About Holiday TLC

Are you reading this in the bathroom?

Did you make some excuse to sneak back to and barricade yourself in the guest room?

Are you out for a “run”?

No judgment here. I have done my share of escaping and hiding over holiday weekends in attempts to get away from the hurtful comments and unhelpful suggestions (unintentional and otherwise) and try desperately to regain my composure before marching back into the fray.

Those voices say:

“When are you going to start having babies?”

“Am I never going to get grandchildren?!”

“Why don’t you just adopt?”

“Time for the family photo!”

Take a deep breath. Now…I want you to hear my voice:

You are enough.

You are beautiful.

You are loved.

You are not alone.

 

Resources are available for you: Put out a call for support in the Comments here; we’re good at commiserating and encouraging. Read old posts for ideas on how to get through the tough days. Visit the Life Without Baby Facebook page. Reach out to others in Forums and Discussions. (It’s free. Click on the Community link in the menu above to sign up.) Call an understanding friend. Hang in there. xoKathleen