filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
After spending a year in a body cast as a young woman, Justine was told that pregnancy would not be a safe option. She tells her story of struggle, hope, and recovery in Ever Upward: Overcoming the Lifelong Losses of Infertility to Define Your Own Happy Ending.
I spoke to Justine about Life Without Baby and how writing helped me to heal. You can read our interview at EverUpward.org.
By Lorraine Ash, M.A.
©Dave Bredeson | Dreamstime.com
After my daughter, Victoria Helen, was stillborn at full term, I received a strange message from many people, all carrying a theme: I was incomplete.
I wrote a memoir about surviving the stillbirth. I never thought I’d write a memoir, but, of all the genres, it was the most perfect and necessary for me to process the violence that had rocked my life.
The book, Life Touches Life: A Mother’s Story of Stillbirth and Healing, gained readers and touched hearts throughout the United States and in the Middle East, Australia, Europe, China, Canada, and Mexico. Later, I wrote a sequel, Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life, about how my life, years after the loss, blossomed. What wonderful communions I enjoyed with my readers.
But none of that stopped the insistent message that my life was fundamentally flawed.
One book reviewer told me my story was not one of courage, but of cowardice, because I didn’t get pregnant again.
“You stopped after failing,” she said.
“I couldn’t get pregnant after that,” I’d replied. “We tried, but it didn’t happen.” She remained immovable in her opinion.
Indeed my husband and I had made a decision that was right for us: we opted against fertility treatments. We’d just gone through hell and barely come back—literally, in my case. The Group B Strep that took my daughter’s life almost claimed mine. For a couple of weeks, I was touch and go. When I was suspended in the uncertain hell between life and death, we became very respectful of the powers of Mother Nature. We decided not to try forcing her to do our bidding.
Once, a well-meaning friend offered this thought: “You had half an experience—a pregnancy up to giving birth. Go and complete it. Adopt somebody else’s newborn baby.”
The piece de resistance, though, was the advice of a famed author who saw the Life Touches Life manuscript in its early stages.
“Stop writing this,” she said. “It’s not an appropriate topic.”
“Why ever not?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
“Because stillbirth is something that didn’t happen,” she said. “Write about something that did.”
She’s the narrative expert, I thought, but apparently there are stories she doesn’t understand. Something happened, all right. Trust me.
So now two things are true of me: I do not have progeny, and I do not live out my days insisting upon, or lamenting, a destiny that did not, for whatever reason, materialize. I know my genes will not live on. Instead, I embrace a different kind of legacy. I approach eternity not by looking to some faraway future, beyond the imagination, but by embracing the moment called Now as it resonates through my whole being—body, mind, and spirit.
My life is about helping others reach those places inside themselves, too, and encouraging them to tell the full truth of their stories as they are—not as they could have been. My message is that today is the only day any of us can affect and that today, no matter the circumstances, is full and complete.
As the great Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh has said, “Life is available only in the present moment. If you abandon the present moment, you cannot live the moments of your daily life deeply.”
Tomorrow will be full and complete, too—but different. I can trace the change while still acknowledging the completeness. Becoming whole is a spiritual process. No matter what happens on the outside, it’s an inside job.
Do you live fully in the story of your life, as it has unfolded? Or are there still gifts in your experiences, however painful, that you have not yet opened?
Lorraine Ash, M.A., is a New Jersey author, award-winning journalist, essayist, book editor, and writing teacher. Self and Soul: On Creating a Meaningful Life, her second book, is available in a variety of formats and online stores, all presented here. Reach Lorraine at www.LorraineAsh.com, www.facebook.com/LorraineAshAuthor , or @LorraineVAsh.
By Lisa Manterfield
This week marks the six-year anniversary of the publication of my first book, I’m Taking My Eggs and Going Home: How One Woman Dared to Say No to Motherhood. Aside from being stunned at how quickly six years have passed, I’m also struck by how intertwined my writing and life have become.
I never set out to write a book about being unable to have children; my plan had always been to write fiction. But as is often the way, my personal infertility story began creeping into writing exercises as I struggled to put my experience into words and be heard. Then, in a weekend writing workshop, our very astute teacher, Amy, asked the question, “What’s the thing you don’t want to write about?” Our assignment was to write down our answers before going to bed that night. I wrote down that I didn’t want to write about my infertility. I expected there would be a follow up assignment the next morning, but Amy never mentioned it again.
Time passed as this idea of writing my story began to worm its way into my brain and suddenly I realized I’d written several chapters about the thing I swore I didn’t want to write about. The next thing I knew I was committing to writing a book.
The trouble was, my story didn’t have an ending yet. Mr. Fab and I were still working through fertility treatments and adoption, and I was far from ready to give up. The ending of my book would obviously be the scene where I learn that I am pregnant and we laugh joyously at all we’ve been through. So I kept writing until that ending came.
During this process of creating a book, I began to look at my story through an editor’s eyes and it gave me some distance from my experience. I began to gain perspective about my own crazy journey and at some point, I realized what the ending of the book—and the ending of my story—had to be. It had to be the point that Mr. Fab and I decide to let go of our plans to have a baby and take our lives in a new direction. That’s what we did and the rest, as they say is history. I rewrote the book entirely, with this new ending in mind and then I went off to figure out how the heck I was ever going to stop crying about this cruel blow I’d been dealt.
I started this blog to promote the book. I created a website and began writing my way through the mess of trying to come to terms with my decision. I felt like a very unwilling pioneer, like I was the only person in the world talking about this awful situation. But then readers began to find the blog and I learned that I was far from alone. I found other bloggers sharing their stories and, bit-by-bit, I began to heal. I stopped crying and started being angry instead. And after a while I stopped being so angry and started being…happy! Happily childless! I could never have imagined it.
So, last year I began collecting everything I’d learned since that moment of realization that I wouldn’t be a mother. I’ll admit that I gained most of this knowledge in hindsight after struggling through the mess of emotions and then realizing how I could have done it better. I also learned so much from you, dear, dear readers, sharing your experiences and hard-won lessons. I put everything I learned together in a series of e-books and next year I’ll put them out as a complete book. And once again, as I read through the words I wrote, I’m learning more about myself. Life, art, and infertility inextricably intertwined.
So here I am standing in this odd place, not at the end of my journey (because I don’t think this will be a journey with a finite ending) but at a place so far distant from where I began that I can barely recognize myself anymore.
And the good news I have to report from this strange land is that I’m okay. I didn’t get the thing I once wanted more than anything in the world, but actually, life is pretty great. That’s an ending to the story I would never have predicted.
To celebrate this pretty special week, I’m offering free copies of Workbook 1: Letting Go of the Dream of Motherhood. You can get your free download today and tomorrow only (November 16 and 17) from Amazon. It’s available for all devices (Kindle, iPad, Kobo, etc.) or you can download a free e-reader here to read the book on your computer.
By Lisa Manterfield
This post is an oldie, originally posted on April 26, 2012, but I think it’s worth a rerun. You can see what others had to say in the original comments here.
There are two questions I get asked frequently: How did you come to terms with not having children, and how long did it take?
The answer is something akin to “how long is a piece of string and how many knots can you tie in it?”
Believe me when I tell you that if I could write down ten easy steps to making peace with being childfree-not-by-choice, I’d do it, but the answer isn’t that simple. Yes, there were many things that happened along the way that helped me make some peace, but it took closer to 10,000 steps than ten.
Writing down my story was hugely cathartic, venting about the injustices on this blog helped, too. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this and that people like you were out there wanting to talk through the minefield has helped immeasurably. Drawing a line in the sand and saying, “This is where that chapter of my life ends and this is where I start healing” also helped. And frankly, telling myself a big fat lie that I was better off not being a mother actually helped me to realize that in many ways I was. Setting new goals, appreciating the benefits of not having kids, and allowing myself to feel bitter and badly treated when I needed to. All these things helped.
I don’t think there’s a formula for working your way through this, and it’s definitely a journey of making forward process and dealing with inevitable setbacks.
As for how long the process takes? How long is that piece of string? It’s been three years for me and I consider myself largely at peace with my situation. I have closed the door on the idea that I will have children someday and most days I’m good with it. Everyday it gets a little better and a little easier. Some days there will be reminders of what I’ve lost and sometimes a flicker of a thought of “what if…”
The truth is, in many ways, I expect this piece of string to go on forever. The experience of infertility has changed me. It is one of the most significant and life-changing events of my life, and I don’t think the repercussions of that will ever stop reverberating. It doesn’t mean I won’t find harmony and even happiness in this new life – I already have – but I don’t expect this journey of coming-to-terms to ever fully end.
By Lisa Manterfield
March is a funny old month for me. It’s filled with all kinds of anniversaries, both happy and sad.
March is the month I lost my dad (sad) and, later, my stepdad (also sad).
March is also the month I married Mr. Fab (happy). We celebrate 11 years this year (very happy).
March is the month Mr. Fab’s granddaughter was born (happy and sad) and quickly became the month we decided to stop the quest for a child of our own (very, very sad).
It’s also the month I wrote my very first post on this blog (sad at the time, but very happy now).
So you can see, checking off the days on the March calendar can be a bit of an emotional ride.
What I notice, though, is that with each passing year, I’m less sad about the sad anniversaries and more happy about the happy ones. Even though “time heals all wounds” can ring hollow in a time of sadness, I’ve come to learn that it’s actually true.
Five years ago, when I wrote my first post, I couldn’t imagine that life could be happy without children. Oh sure, I knew I’d “get over it” eventually, but I never expected to move beyond the sadness.
What I’ve learned from all my sad anniversaries is that the sadness gets smaller every year, just a little at first, sometimes so little that you barely notice, until one day you can talk about the thing you’ve lost without choking on the sadness.
The sadness doesn’t completely go away, but most days it’s so small I barely notice it.
What’s next?
Anniversaries of all kinds are a good time to step back, reevaluate, and look back at how far we’ve come.
When I look back at some of my early posts on this blog, I see a woman who was angry and lost, but also skirting the deeper emotional truths about what she was going through. And she was still hiding in shame.
Later, I found a way to write more openly about how I felt, and eventually I was able to gain insight into the effects of my loss and how I might have better handled my grief.
These days, I’ll admit that I don’t have much new to say. I’m still learning, of course, but much I’ve what I’ve learned on my journey has been channeled into the ebook series, which I hope will continue to help other women stepping onto this path.
Those of you who’ve been long-time readers (and thank you for your support over the years) will no doubt understand how something that once consumed every waking moment can become something you think about only once in a while.
I also know that new readers are experiencing this for the first time, and I want to maintain this community, because I know it’s one of the few places to find true support and to be able to voice what our friends and family often don’t understand.
Over the coming year, I plan to rerun some of the more helpful posts from the past five years, as well as new ones as they come up. There’ll be posts from Kathleen and me, and of course, I wouldn’t dare take away Whiny Wednesday. If you’ve been a reader for a while, it’s a good way to see how far you’ve come over the years. If you’re a new reader, I hope you’ll find these posts resonate with you.
And what will I be doing with all my spare time if I’m not writing new posts? I’ll be working on the final book in the series, due out in June. I’m also working like crazy on a new novel that I hope to be able to tell you more about soon.
And there are presents!
As this is a celebration, of course there are presents. Several people have asked me if the ebook series will be available in format other than for e-readers. The ultimate goal is to put all four ebooks together as a print book later this year, but in the meantime, I’ve created downloadable PDFs of the books.
In honor of our five years together, you can grab yourself a free copy of the first book in the series. It will be available until the end of March, and can you get your copy by using this special link.
The other two books are also now available in this format here:
Workbook 2: Getting Through the Grief of Childlessness
Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges
Workbook 4: Thriving in a New Happily Ever After (Out June 2014. Available for pre-order)
So, all that’s left is to say thank you for your ongoing support, for showing up here and reminding me that I’m not alone, and for continuing to support and help one another on this journey. I’m very honored to share this space with you.
~Lisa
By Lisa Manterfield
Recently, a reader said she’d had an idea to write a letter to the child she never had, and she asked if I thought it was crazy.
Here’s what I told her (edited slightly to maintain her anonymity):
“Writing a letter isn’t crazy at all. One of the things that makes our grief so unique is that there is seldom a finite end to the journey. There’s almost always some option still open, and the loss is more of a gradual moving away from the dream, rather than a sudden end. It makes it really hard to acknowledge the end and grieve that loss.
“Doing something tangible, such as writing a letter, creates a kind of marker that says, ‘this is the end.’ And the other ladies [in the group] are absolutely right about not holding in your grief. If you need to find a time to be alone, close the door to your room, and just let it all out, do it. It’s exhausting, but it’s amazing how much grief you can purge with a good cry.”
I told her I would write a post on this topic so that you could share your experiences with creating an end to something that has none. So here it is.
In order to start moving on with your healing process, did you need to create an ending with something symbolic and meaningful to you? Please share any “crazy” ideas that helped you find a stopping place and begin coming to terms with your life without children.
By Lisa Manterfield
Last week I sat down with Tracey Cleantis to talk about her new book, The Next Happy: Let Go of the Life You Planned and Find a New Way Forward.
Tracey has long been a voice for the infertility community and many of you will know her from her blog, La Belette Rouge, where she talked openly about letting go of the dream of motherhood and finding a new way forward. Now she’s taken what she’s learned from her personal experience and paired it with her professional expertise as a therapist to offer a roadmap for letting go of a dream and moving forward.
The Next Happy: Interview with Tracey Cleantis from Lisa Manterfield on Vimeo.
Tracey is offering a signed copy of her book. If you’d like to be entered into the drawing, please just add #TheNextHappy to your comments below.
You can learn more about Tracey at TraceyCleantis.com and find her book on Amazon, Indiebound and other major book retailers.
By Lisa Manterfield
The third book in the new Life Without Baby ebook series is out today. In Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges I tackle all those issues we talk about here on the blog, including what to say when someone asks if you have kids, how to handle surprise pregnancy announcements, and how to get through social events and holidays.
I sent an early draft of the book to Kathleen, who offered me lots of great notes for improvement. In fact, one of her comments resulted in an entire new chapter. She said that while it’s important to cover the big issues that come up for us, one of the biggest day-to-day challenges, especially in the early stages, can be simply getting out of bed and bracing ourselves to face a world that seems to have shut us out.
I really appreciated her insight, because the truth is I’d forgotten what it was like to lie in bed in the morning and absolutely dread having to get up and face people. I’d forgotten what it was like to go to work each day being constantly on guard in case anyone said anything to flip the switch on my emotions again. I’d forgotten how often I seriously considered staying in bed and hoping it would all just go away.
I hope I’ve managed to tackle all those issues in this book, and I want to say a big “thank you” to Kathleen for her insight and for the amazing work she’s done editing the whole series.
Workbook 3: Dealing With the Day-to-Day Challenges is now out on Amazon, along with books 1 and 2 in the series. If you’ve read the books and found them helpful, I’d be very grateful if you’d consider adding a review on Amazon. It can help really help other people find the books—especially those women in the early stages who’ve yet to discover that they aren’t alone after all.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Books by Ron Harner
My nephews love Suck It Up, Tate!, one of three books for kids by Ron Harner. It is one of those books they beg me to read to them “Again! Again!” Clearly, Ron “gets” kids, so it may come as a surprise that he doesn’t have any of his own.
How many times have we heard “You wouldn’t understand, you’re not a parent” and felt our blood boil? The next time some unfeeling person slings this at you, remind them that Theodor Seuss Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss, didn’t have children of his own. Then tell them about Ron Harner. His story is below.
By the way, when Geisel was asked about not having kids, he responded, “You have ’em, I’ll entertain ’em!” Sounds like Ron is doing a bang-up job of this as well.
LWB: Are you childfree by choice, chance, or circumstance?
Ron: Most definitely by chance. I was on track to be a father, and then my first marriage blew up unexpectedly and pretty spectacularly. I was reeling for a while. Having kids was the plan, but life doesn’t always stick to the plan.
LWB: Where are you on your journey now?
Ron: Not having children is something I made peace with a while ago. That’s not to say I don’t get twinges occasionally, but, after my breakup, I didn’t go looking for a mother. I didn’t go looking for anybody. I met a girl in an elevator one day, and everything changed for the better. Kids weren’t in the cards for us. That was twelve years ago. I’m glad I didn’t take the stairs that day.
LWB: What was your inspiration for the first book/series?
Ron: I’m the youngest of five children. My brother and sisters all have a bunch of kids. One Thanksgiving, we were sitting around the table and my oldest sister said, “You write everything else, why don’t you write a children’s book?” And then she added, “…but not one that’s all sunshine and lollipops. I’d love to find a book in which the kid screws up and has to deal with it.”
So, I wrote one. It’s called Suck It Up, Tate! I’m fortunate to count a ridiculously talented Disney animator [Michael Surrey] among my friends, so I enlisted him to make it look great. I was able to publish that one, and then was asked to write two more.
LWB: Are readers surprised to learn you don’t have children?
Ron: Readers do seem surprised to discover I don’t have kids. But, like I mentioned, I have a brood of nieces and nephews who I adore. I spend as much time with them as I can, and they supply me with a ton of material.
I should note that I have a dog, Maggie, who I need as much as she needs me. People see the way I act with her, and that’s when I get the “How is it that you don’t have children?” question the most.
LWB: How gratifying is it to hear “My kid wants me to read it to him every night!”? Do you feel like you are making a difference in a kid’s life through your stories?
Ron: My aim was to write books that would appeal to kids and adults. The messages in these books are lessons my father gave me when I was young—not verbally; Dad wasn’t a big lecturer. He led by example. I took what stuck with me, added funny characters, and the stories just poured out.
I have to say it’s incredibly gratifying when I get a note from a parent who tells me one of the books has struck a chord with their child or that he or she shouts out the title at the right point of the story. Books played a big part of my life growing up, so that makes me smile.
LWB: What’s the hardest part for you about not having children?
Ron: Most times I’m fine. There are times when I’d love to be able to be share some of the things I’m passionate about with someone just coming up in the world. I play my favorite records for my dog, but she seems underwhelmed.
LWB: What’s the best part about not having children?
Ron: I’m able to spend real quality time with my wife, doing the things we love to do together. Until just recently, when we got hitched, we were not tied together by anything other than the fact that we love being with each other. Plus, I can indulge all the creative stuff I like to do, including writing and performing sketch comedy with a great group of comedians I met at The Second City. That stuff is pretty liberating.
LWB: What’s the best advice you’d offer someone else like you?
Ron: The only advice I’d dare give anyone is to be truly honest with yourself. I’m insanely happy with my lot in life. Don’t do something just because someone expects you to, and don’t turn away from something that drives you just because it’s difficult.
LWB: Are more books coming?
Ron: Kids frequently ask me if I’m going to write a fourth book—they’ve even gone so far as to suggest new stories! Maybe I’ll reread the first three books after this interview. Who knows where the next good idea will come from?
Suck It Up, Tate!, Cool It, Frida!, and Move It, Milton! are available in hardcover and paperback at RonHarnerBooks.com. Paperbacks are available at Amazon and BarnesandNoble.com.
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.
~ "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."
