Year: 2010

You just can’t tell

Sue Fagalde Lick husbands who don't want children

When I was dating my first husband, one of the things that impressed me was how well he interacted with children. I’d watching him playing with other people’s kids and think what a great dad he would make. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t have children. I never dreamed that he wouldn’t want them. It was the natural progression, right? Before we got married, we signed papers with the Catholic Church saying we would welcome children and raise them Catholic, didn’t we? Oh, I was so young.

We had been married a few years when, despite using birth control, I thought I might be pregnant. To my horror, he said that if I was, he was leaving. I was not pregnant. The marriage didn’t last long enough to find out if he might have eventually changed his mind. Perhaps after he finished college and we got a home of our own . . . But he has been married two more times, and as far as I know, he has never had any children.

Husband number two was good with kids, too, as long as he didn’t have to deal with them at home. But he made it clear before we got married that he didn’t want any more children. At least I knew how he felt about it.

If your mate seems to enjoy playing with other people’s kids, don’t assume that he wants some of his own. Talk about it. Ask him before it’s too late.

How Did You Find Out?

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized

When Fred and I got together, I was 31 and still hoping to be a mom. He was 46 and had had a vasectomy after his third child was born. For a while after our engagement, we talked about having a child together. If his vasectomy couldn’t be reversed, we would try artificial insemination or adoption. We talked about it with my gynecologist. We collected information about adoptions. It never occurred to me that I would go to my grave without children.

Then one evening on a camping trip, Fred dropped the bomb. “I really don’t want to have any more children,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” I replied, stunned. That’s pretty much all I ever said about it until many years later. Somehow, I had this big case of denial. He would change his mind, or a persistent sperm would find its way to one of my eggs, and I would have a baby.

Looking back, I should have demanded that we talk about this a lot more. I should have made it clear that I wanted children. But I didn’t. Why? I was more afraid of losing Fred than of not having children. My first marriage blew up, the three-year relationship I had in-between turned out badly, and I had almost reconciled myself to being alone forever. Then Fred came along. I had never felt love like that, and I didn’t dare do anything to mess it up.

Now I suspect that, if I had insisted, he loved me enough that we would have had children. But it’s too late now.

So, ladies and gents in childless relationships, how did you discover your mate wouldn’t or couldn’t become a parent, and how did you react? Is there time to change the situation?

Childless women play important role

Sue Fagalde Lick Auntie Brigade, childless women, Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage, Elizabeth Gilbert, Margot Magowan

Throughout history, a certain percentage of women have remained childless. Although people have often viewed them with suspicion or pity, they play an important role in society, says Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the bestseller Eat, Pray, Love and the new book Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage. Childless women are free to do the things mothers can’t. They teach, they nurse, they encourage young artists or become artists themselves. In myriad ways, what Gilbert calls the Auntie Brigade is there to help.

I don’t know about you, but this comforts me. We who have not given birth still have an important part to play in the world. Sometimes we’re lonely, but we matter. We are able to do things our mothering sisters cannot. On Wednesdays, I can lead the children in singing at my church because I am not fettered with a little one. Think about it. We can all mourn the losses that come with never being a mother, but what about all the things we CAN do because we don’t have children.

I have not yet read the book, but gathered these excerpts in a review by Margot Magowan. Thank you, Elizabeth.

Holding the baby

Sue Fagalde Lick holding babies

I think I’m beginning to understand why so many women gather around babies and vie to hold them. Lately my dog Annie, the one in the picture only two years older and 50 pounds heavier, has taken to lying on top of me whenever I relax in a chair or on the sofa. Spread over my lap or chest, she is warm and soft. As I pet her, she relaxes to sleep. Sometimes she snores. Sometimes she whimpers and her feet paddle as she dreams. I stay very still, stroking her fur, loving her. Of course a dog is not the same as a human baby, but there’s something so elemental and right about that closeness, that young life against my body.

Human babies grow so quickly. It is not long before they’re too big and no longer willing to lie in their mothers’ arms. Most mothers can have more children, and they can look forward to the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that come in the never-ending circle of life. They ache to hold babies again. My mother always seemed so happy when she had a chance to hold a little one, but it didn’t happen very often.

For those of us who are not mothers,we can only imagine that feeling. And hold our dogs, if they are willing to be held.

The Baby in the Back Row

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized

At the library for our monthly writers’ meeting, I hear a voice behind me calling my name. I turn and blink, trying to recognize this young woman with a baby attached to her by what looks like an overgrown scarf. I won’t remember her name until later, but I know she was one of my best students. She was writing about motherhood. It comes back to me. The last time I saw her, she was pregnant, and I was editing her proposal for a book about birthing plans. But that was—this is a different baby. She has three, I think. Then I discover this pudgy-faced Gerber baby is number four. The oldest is six. Oh. What do you say? He’s beautiful. I love his tiny coveralls and the soft brown fuzz on his head. As our guest speaker talks, every now and then he gurgles a loud amen, and when we write, he seems to be studying the page, thinking hard.

Although wearing the glassy-eyed stare of someone who rarely gets enough sleep, my student seems content and bonded to her baby.

In the front row, another young woman, very young, has the same translucent, puffy look of a new mother. She clutches what looks like a blanket in her lap. Later I’ll learn that it’s her jacket. She’s struggling to write about her recent experience giving her baby up for adoption. Like me, she keeps looking at the baby in the back row.

Afterward, I talk to my student, catching up. Yes, she is still writing when she can. She knows all about me from reading my newsletter. “How’s Annie?” she asks. My dog. “Good,” I say.

I get busy helping to put away the chairs. At home, as I relax into my big chair in front of the TV, Annie jumps into my lap, all 60 pounds of her. She keeps trying to lick my face. I pull her close and pet her soft fur. “Oh, baby, let’s just watch American Idol, okay?”

Even here they ask

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness, mom club

At my husband’s nursing home yesterday, we shared a red-clothed table with a mother and daughter for the Valentine’s Day party. It wasn’t much of a party. Most of the residents were napping. Those of us who were awake ate cupcakes, jelly beans, M&M’s, and those little sugar hearts with writing on them. I sang songs and played my guitar, and we played a little bingo with the sugar hearts. Actually, the activities director, the daughter and I played bingo, and Fred and the mom sat while we pushed candies around their cards. The mom, Jean, has been in a mood lately. She used to be very talkative and always got up to sing and dance when anyone played music. But now she just sat there in her red sweater, frowning. Her daughter, dressed identically in red and black, sang with me as we tried to keep this slow party going.

After I had won my second round of Bingo and eaten another heart, Jean suddenly surprised me. “How many kids do ya have?” she asked.

I stared and saw her staring back intently. “I don’t have any children,” I said. I felt so disloyal to my husband, not acknowledging the stepchildren. But he was my link to them, and the link is broken. “He has three,” I said,” pointing to Fred. Jean went back to her silence as an aide started setting tiny glasses of milk on the tables in preparation for dinner. The daughter and I exchanged looks. Time to go.

I wonder what would have happened if I did have children to talk about.

Is That What I was Supposed to Do?

Sue Fagalde Lick family photos

I received a CD-rom from my cousins yesterday. It contained more than 1,300 family photos. The note promised pictures from several weddings, including my own, major birthday parties for family members, showers, holidays and more. Oh boy, I thought, eager to relive the old days with so many loved ones who have passed away.

There was some of that, but most of the pictures were of my cousins and their kids. Three cousins, five kids, three spouses of the kids at every age from newborn to young adult. So many group photos. Moms pregnant, moms at baby showers, moms holding their babies, moms, dads and grandparents with tiny gap-toothed kids of varying heights. The passing generations of parents to children to their children. Soon these young adults will be having their own offspring, and the cyle will go on with baby pictures, first communions, graduations, weddings, and more baby pictures. Of course the people who took the pictures, cousins whom I treasure even though I rarely see them, would focus mostly on their own families. My own photo albums have pictures of my family, although lately I haven’t taken very many.

These days, my photos tend to be of old barns, flowers, bridges, trees, and dogs. If I had children, I suppose I’d be snapping photos of them incessantly and proudly foisting them on relatives who would display them on their pianos, end tables and bookshelves. But I don’t have that kind of photos. A few stepchild photos here and there, but not many.

I did find some wonderful shots on the CD-rom of my grandmother, my mother and aunts and uncles who have passed away. There were a couple from my wedding and some that showed me the way I used to look. So young! I will save these pictures and love them. But the generations stop with me. I don’t fit into the family picture the way my cousins do. I’m different. It makes me sad.

Do you know what I mean? Do you feel that way sometimes? Like the one looking on from afar?

Taking Chico away

Sue Fagalde Lick Annie and Chico, grandchild cravings, Willamette Humane Society

My baby dog is gone. I surrendered him to the Willamette Humane Society last weekend–on his 23-month birthday. It hurt bad. I cried so much I made myself sick. I know there’s no real comparison between this and giving up a human baby for adoption, but that’s how it felt. I know we’ll both be better off, but it’s so hard. I drove to Salem with this handsome dog on the seat beside me. I pet him and talked to him. At the rest stop, he behaved perfectly, as he had for the last 24 hours. Was I really doing this? Could I really do this? I did. The moment I reached the counter, a woman took my dog away. I stayed to fill out papers, acknowledging that the shelter will not provide updates on his status. He is no longer mine. I drove home alone.

Now it’s just his sister Annie and me. I hope not to torture you dear readers with more about this dog situation. For now anyway.

*****
On the way to Salem, we followed a school bus for a while. I found myself waving at the children inside. Although I have never craved the company of children before, suddenly I find myself wanting to be around them. I don’t want to be pregnant now. My old body couldn’t take the strain. Is it some deep-seated instinct to be a grandmother now that I’m truly a grandmotherly age? Is it that the old people around me are dying and I want a sign of new life coming up like the bulbs pushing through the dead vines in my garden? I wonder if even women who choose to be childless feel a little twinge sometimes, a need to hold a tiny hand and see life through a child’s eyes.

Go, Melissa!

Sue Fagalde Lick giving up children for a man, men who don't want children, Thirtysomething

I have been watching reruns of the 1980s TV show “Thirtysomething”. It’s interesting to see how issues such as childlessness were treated 20 years ago. Some things have changed, but some have definitely stayed the same.

In one episode, “career gal” Elyn asked her motherly friend Hope if it would be terrible if she never had kids. She wasn’t sure she wanted them. Shocking disclosure. One might notice that she didn’t cozy up to Hope’s baby Janie.

Melissa, on the other hand, adored Janie and always had her in her arms. She ached for a child of her own and even suggested she might have one without a husband. Then along came the handsome Dr. Bob. Their romance developed quickly. He looked like “the one.” Melissa loved his daughter Robyn, played by a very young Kellie Martin. Eventually the subject of having children together came up. It was an awkward conversation, along the lines of: I know we’re not at that place yet, but hypothetically . . . , if, maybe, someday, how would you feel about having more children?

Alas, Dr. Bob had decided long ago that Robyn was more than enough. He did not want to go through that experience again.

Well, now what does Melissa do? At first she tries not to react, telling him and herself, it’s early, there’s time to change his mind. Still, he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, and his response never varies: Robyn is enough for me. Maybe he’ll change his mind, Melissa persists. “No, he won’t!” I’m shouting at the TV. A man of Dr. Bob’s age who says he does not want children won’t change his mind.

Finally Melissa presses him again for a definite answer, and he gives it to her: no more kids. Her response is one of the best exit lines I have heard. “I think me and my eggs will be moving on.” And away she goes. I am so proud of her. Too many of us are so desperate for a man that we agree to give up children just to keep the man.

Not that Dr. Bob is a bad guy; he’s just the wrong guy for Melissa. Perhaps we should introduce him to Elyn.

Pink Draft is Done

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage

I finished the latest draft of my Childless by Marriage book this week. Some tweaking and I will be ready to market the book, as well as excerpts and related stories. I call this “the pink draft,” printed on pink paper so I can tell it apart from the other drafts.

I have interviewed many women and a few men over the past decade. Some are childless by choice, but lots of them tell tales of motherhood thwarted by husbands and boyfriends or delayed until it was too late. I will be trying to contact these women to find out what has happened since we talked and make sure it’s still okay to use their comments. For some folks, the contact information I have is no longer valid. If I interviewed you for my book, please e-mail me privately at suelick@casco.net.

Let us work together to make sure the world knows what it’s really like for us.

Thanks for reading this blog and for your many comments. We will go on indefinitely.