Year: 2011

The road not taken

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, husbands who don't want children

As I lay awake last night, one thought led to another, and I realized with a shock that the young sons of the man I dated before I met Fred must be in their 30s by now. I was so flabbergasted it woke me up completely. Forget sleeping.

Jason and Jeremy were 5 and 7 in the days when I dated their dad after my first marriage ended. We got along great, and I knew I’d be happy being their stepmother. I also knew that other children would follow because this boyfriend was eager to make babies with me. In fact, yesterday I found a poem I wrote about how I was worried that I might be pregnant out of wedlock. My, how things have changed. I never did get pregnant.

That boyfriend, let’s call him Jack, was abusive. When he was in a good mood, things were great, but when he wasn’t, look out. It would not have been a good marriage, but I could have had as many babies as I wanted.

Jack and I broke up for a while, and I started dating Gerry. He too was happy to welcome babies, although his crazy theory was: If you get pregnant, we’ll get married. When I discovered he was doing drugs, I broke up with him. No babies there. I went back to Jack, but was lucky to escape relatively unscathed.

Then Fred came along. So nice, so kind, so loving. He didn’t want to add any more children to the three kids he already had and he had had a vasectomy, but he was just about perfect in every other way. I married him and wound up not having children. Did I make the right decision?

If things had worked out differently, I could have had grown children by now.

Life happens one day, one choice at a time. None of us knows what lies ahead.

Childless women in pain

Sue Fagalde Lick childless women, infertility, men who don't want children

I had a great weekend, although I was strongly reminded of my childless status at a party where everyone was talking about their children and grandchildren. At such times, I can either smile and nod or hit the buffet table again. “Five grandkids, huh? And the new one is due in September? Nice.” You know how it goes. I’ve been dealing with it for years.

But some women are in the throes of such deep pain they don’t know what to do. I received messages from two such women this weekend.

The first is Jennifer, who writes:
“I’m now 37, husband is 40. We have been married for almost 13 years. I always wanted children. He wanted to wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, 3 years ago I ‘made’ him go to a fertility doctor with me. The doctor immediately thought it was me, put me on Clomid, etc. He tested my husband ‘just in case.’ On Halloween (my favorite holiday in the world, or it used to be)…I went for my checkup to see how the Clomid was working. He examined me, told me I was responding “wonderfully” and told me to have sex that weekend. I was SO thrilled!!!! Then, before he left, I asked him if he had the results of my husband’s exam. He looked worried, and said “I’ll be right back.” He came back a few minutes later, and simply said “There was a big problem. Your husband has no sperm.” I must have said “are you sure?” about ten times. I was shocked. He said, “Don’t worry, we can use donor sperm and you’ll be pregnant within a month or two.” My husband, however, did not want to use donor sperm. My husband doesn’t want to adopt. He’s happy with his life. He likes his job and has his stupid band. I, on the other hand, am miserable. I feel left out. I don’t have any friends anymore because all of my friends have children and that’s all they talk about. I don’t have family, so my having a child meant everything in the world to me. I feel so isolated and SO lonely…I honestly don’t know how I am going to survive another day let alone a lifetime. Do you have any words of wisdom for me? I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m at the end of my rope.” 😦

This morning, I got a message from Iris:
“I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know how to deal with the pain of
being childless. My heart never felt so broken. I am married now and
my husband has four children. None of those experiences were good. Now,
between layoffs, strikes, and circumstances, I think I will never have
children. I am 45 going on 46. If the window of opportunity is not
already closed, it is fast approaching. I don’t want to feel this
pain. I don’t want to be bitter. I don’t know what to do.”

Friends, we’re all in the same leaky boat. I think the hardest time to be childless is when you’re in your 30s and 40s and feel your chances slipping away. When you get older, I promise you will find ways to make peace with the situation. Meanwhile, I think it’s essential to talk first with your partner. Try to make him or her understand how you feel, how very important it is to have children NOW. I was guilty of not speaking up enough. I think if I had, I would have children now. If your mate will not listen, find someone else to talk to, a friend,a counselor, anyone who will listen. Don’t keep it bottled up. You also need to consider whether this partner is worth the sacrifice. If you had to choose between losing him or her and losing your potential children, which would you pick?

I welcome your comments and your advice.

—

Are you a Savvy Auntie?

Sue Fagalde Lick Auntie's Day, childless aunts, Savvy Auntie

I mentioned the Savvy Auntie website last week. Making a visit there, I discovered that they have declared July 24 Auntie’s Day. So, if you’ve got devoted nieces and nephews, maybe you want to drop a hint that they should plan some kind of Mother’s Day-like celebration.

There’s even a Savvy Auntie book by Melanie Notkin, which tells you how to be the best possible aunt–or great aunt or godmother or person who loves a child you didn’t give birth to.

For those of us missing the children we haven’t had, aunthood may be one way to fill that emptiness.

On a recent trip to California for my niece Susie’s 24th birthday party, I found myself absolutely enchanted by her. Between my brother and me, she’s the only biological offspring, although my brother adopted William, his wife’s son from her first marriage. He feels like ours, too. I often forget that he doesn’t share our genes. When he tells me he loves me or comes to me for advice, I feel all squishy inside.

My niece has my name, and she looks so much like my mother it’s spooky (and wonderful). We’re both left-handed and have a lot of other things in common besides her father and curmudgeonly grandfather.

Because we live in different states, I don’t see my niece and nephew that much, but I love being Aunt Sue. I wish there were dozens of young people calling me that.

Meanwhile, on the long drive home to Oregon, I got to thinking about how cool it would be if I had had a daughter, too. My brother and I both got married for the second time in 1985. We were both in our 30s, plenty young enough to conceive. My daughter would be about Susie’s age. They could have been friends, hung out together, shared confidences and clothing tips. I would have been so proud of both of them.

Sigh. These are the kinds of things that many women take for granted, not knowing how lucky they are. I’m not going to give birth. My stepdaughter is almost 20 years older than my niece, so they’re not likely to become friends.

That’s the way it goes in this world of multiple marriages, some of which do not produce children. I wish I had kids, but I’m glad I’m an aunt.

How about you? Are you an aunt? Are you enjoying it? Might you put some of your mothering energy into spoiling a niece or nephew? I look forward to your comments.

Attention Vancouver childless women

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness by postponement, Emily Koert, Have Children or Not, SavvyAuntie, TheNotMom

If you are childless and live in the Lower Mainland/Vancouver area of British Columbia, Emily Koert would like to talk to you. She is working on her doctorate in counselling psychology at the University of British Columbia and is researching childlessness after postponement or delay of motherhood. She is most interested in women who expected to become mothers but have run out of fertile years for various reasons, including reluctant partners.

Emily writes, “I am exploring the lived experience of chldlessness for these women, including examining how they construct their lives and identities as childless women.” She wants to do interviews in person.

If you are interested, contact her at eckoert@yahoo.com or contact me (here in comments or suelick@charter.net) and I’ll relay the message. Thanks.
***
I’ve been blog-hopping lately and have some sites to recommend.

TheNotMom, published by Karen Malone Wright, is a colorful collection of information and wisdom about childlessness. She was kind enough to reprint one of my postings on June 27. I’m enjoying this site and think you might, too. Find it at http://TheNotMom.tumblr.com.

You might also want to visit The Savvy Auntie, http://www.savvyauntie.com.

Fertility doesn’t last forever

Sue Fagalde Lick ticking clock, young men delaying parenthood, young men refusing to commit

I spent the weekend with family, including some young male relatives who are in their 30s and not yet married. One just ended a long relationship because his girlfriend wanted a commitment to eventually getting married. He said he was too busy building his career and resented her pushing him.

The other, almost 40, has been with the same woman for many years, but apparently they aren’t going to get married until/unless he figures out what he wants to be when he grows up. Another young man at the party, mid-30s, has also kept himself uncommitted. When I look around the family, most of the men in their late 20s and early to late 30s have not yet committed to either a relationship or parenthood.

Now, I don’t want to see anyone rush into a bad marriage just to be married, but I feel for the women who love them and would like to have children with them. The men say they want kids, but not anytime in the foreseeable future. They bristle when their women push for a commitment, but our eggs don’t last forever. I fear that many couples in their childbearing years will end up without ever having children even though they wanted them. Being childless by mutual agreement is fine, but this kind of childlessness by delay makes me nuts.

Have you seen this happening among the people you know? As a woman old enough to be a grandmother, I want to shake these guys sometimes and tell them to grow up.

I’d love to hear your comments.

P.S. I’ve been on the road for almost a week and it’s brutally hot here. I’m tired and cranky, but I mean what I say.

Childless widow is not helpless

Sue Fagalde Lick childless widow, Genevieve Davis Ginsburg, Widow to Widow

I just finished reading a book called Widow to Widow by the late Genevieve Davis Ginsburg, M.S., who traded her therapy practice to lead Widow to Widow, a Tucson support group for widows. Overall, it’s an easy read, often comforting and informative, but this book was published in 1995,and times have changed.

Ginsburg portrays most of us new widows as helpless housewives. So not true. She also assumes that we have children. She goes on and on about dealing with the kids’ attempts to help “Mom,” effectively communicating your needs, and easing each other through your shared grief.

She does note in one brief passage that not everyone has children. She writes, “Too often women are made to feel that widowhood would be less painful had they had children. One of the first questions widows ask each other on first meeting is, ‘Do you have children?’ Then ‘How many?’ and ‘Where do they live?’—as though their blessings can be counted by those answers.” In the next paragraph she tells how parents often go on to complain about the things their children do or don’t do. And finally, she says, children can be an important link in a widow’s transition to singleness but not the only one. Ultimately she has to find her own way.

If we have stepchildren, as I do, there’s no guarantee they’ll be around. So far, now that the services are over, they’re not. Would adult biological children of my own be calling every day to check on me, or would they be buried in their own grief and the demands of their own lives? I’ll never know.

If Fred and I had kids together, they might still be teenagers living at home. That would change the picture completely because I’d have to behave like a mom at a time when I might not feel like it. So many unknowns. Does it matter? What is, is. I share my house with my dog Annie, and neither one of us is helpless. We’re sad sometimes but perfectly capable of figuring out the rest of our lives without a husband and without children–if we have to.

Side note to young women considering marrying men who don’t want children: Consider what it might be like years from now if he dies and you find yourself back where you started, only older. Is he worth it? Can you live with it? Something to think about.

What am I to my stepchildren now that my husband has died?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless widow, stepparent

You marry the man who doesn’t want to have children with you; he already has children from a previous marriage. Sometimes his children live with you; sometimes you have partial custody or visitation, but they are definitely part of your life now.

Maybe it’s a close and wonderful relationship in which the word “step” disappears. Or maybe it’s a mess, and you can barely be in the same room with each other. For most of us, it’s somewhere in-between. You inevitably connect because you have their father in common. They grow up, they marry, they have children, and you become a step-parent-in-law and step-grandmother. Again, you may be close or distant, but there is a connection.

Then the worst happens, and your husband, their father, dies. Regular readers know that I’m living this reality right now, but let’s stay hypothetical for a minute. Your husband, the link to those children, is gone. You all grieve the loss, but now the question arises and sits out there like a hippopotamus in the front yard. What is your relationship now?

A web search turns up lots of legalities, mostly concerns about custody and inheritance. In both cases, let’s hope you’ve got something in writing. If you and your husband had custody of his children, and somebody wants to take the kids away from you, that’s a big issue that I’m not going to address here. Better find a good attorney.

When it comes to his estate, what happens if his wishes are not stated in his will depends on where you live. In some states, his kids are entitled to half of what he owned, and you get the other half. I don’t know about you, but giving up 50 percent would leave me homeless and bankrupt. In some places, as his spouse, you get it all, but it varies and you should know what the law says. You should also both have wills, even if you’re young and healthy.

You should also know that in most states, stepchildren are not your legal heirs. When you die, they will not automatically receive anything from your estate unless you specifically leave it to them in your will.

So, if they’re not your legal heirs, we come back to what is your relationship now? I’m reminded of an aunt by marriage who has been widowed for several years. No one ever considered that she was no longer a member of the family when my uncle died. Of course, her kids are blood relatives . . .

It’s different with stepparents. We don’t share one drop of blood. Our only familial link is our spouse, and when he’s gone, then what? I guess it depends on what kind of relationship you’ve established over the years. If you have developed a close-knit family, you will remain in each other’s lives. If not, you may drift apart. In my case, we’ll see, but I fear it’s going to be the latter.

I’d like to offer some resources, but I find everything for stepparents is either legalities or young stepmothers complaining about their young stepchildren and their evil biological mothers. I’m not finding anything for older spouses with grown stepchildren. I’d love to hear your ideas and suggestions on the subject. And of course, if you’re a childless stepfather, just reverse the genders and the same questions apply to you, too.

I’m a widow?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, stepchildren, widow

As you probably know by now, my husband, Fred, passed away April 23 after a long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. It’s hard to believe it has already been more than a month. I miss him every day, and if I don’t keep my mind busy, I flash back to scenes from our lives together, both good and bad. Much of the time, I’m fine, but at any minute something can trigger my emotions. Grief is like riding waves. Some are small, some are huge, and there are calm places between the waves.

Meanwhile I’m trying to grapple with my new identity as an unmarried woman, a widow. I have a hard time with that term. It feels like there’s an implied “pitiful” attached to the word “widow”. Know what I mean? In other places and other times, a woman without a husband might be poverty-stricken and homeless, but that’s not my situation, thank God. I just miss Fred.

As I reported earlier, his kids were here to help with the memorial service and that first week full of upheaval and out-of-town visitors. That was truly great. Now they have disappeared again. The oldest son got married, and I wasn’t there. Too far, too soon. The daughter is back to work, school and loving her kids and grandkids. The youngest, who was supposed to come pick up some of his father’s things, didn’t show up.

When I went back to the cemetery for the placement of Fred’s ashes in the mausoleum, I went alone. Then I sat in a chair stairing at the urn and cried alone. Even if they were my own children, I might have been alone because they don’t live here. It’s my choice to stay in Oregon. I can’t blame them for the distance or for being busy with their own lives.

Meanwhile, I have a wonderful group of friends who feel like a family. Some of them are widowed, too. Others let me join them with their husbands and children for holidays and special events. I think we all need to reach out to other people and bring them into our lives. Young or old, there’s no reason we can’t love someone, even if they’re not officially family.

Will I ever get married again? If so, might I take on a whole new set of stepchildren and stepgrandchildren? Do I want that? I don’t know. I don’t expect to find anyone as great as Fred was.

Now that the marriage has run to its death-do-us-part end, I ask myself if it was worth sacrificing my chance at motherhood. Probably. Most people don’t get a love like we had, and most people don’t get to do all the things I have been able to do as a childless woman. But if I had to do it over again, would I insist on having children? Yes, I would.

Peace to you all.

Lost in the Land of Kids and Mommies

Sue Fagalde Lick childless connecting with children, childless woman at school

I taught a writing workshop last night at the local intermediate school and found myself in a foreign country. Having never had children, I didn’t spend my younger years taking my kids to school and attending school events. I’ve done a few interviews at schools, but even those were a long time ago. It felt strange from the get-go. For one thing, I was old enough to be the mother of all the adults present. When did that happen?

When I arrived, the doors were locked. Even during the day, they’re locked for fear of dangerous strangers. When I was growing up in California, our schools couldn’t be locked. The halls were all outdoors, but this place is like a prison, all indoors with very few windows.

A knock on the door got me in. Immediately a loud-voiced woman who looked too young to be a mom or a teacher started yelling that I had to sign in. Another young woman announced that she was the assistant superintendent of the school district and demanded to know whether I was a teacher or a parent. Uh, writer.

They brought me recycled paper, and we used recycled napkins to eat boxed pizza that could only be served by someone with gloves and a food handler’s license. What happened to moms bringing cookies and punch?

Attendance was poor; apparently last night was a big night for school concerts and sporting events, none of which I knew about. Luckily I didn’t pick the date, and someone else will have to recycle the leftover pizza and handouts.

As I began my talk, I realized the kids were barely paying attention and many of the words I used were probably too sophisticated, especially for the younger siblings who came along with their parents. I don’t know what kids know at various ages these days, and I haven’t developed that way of relating to children that some people, parents, seem to have.

I’m grateful that when I asked them to write, they did. A couple got so into it that they didn’t want to stop, and they were happy to read their stories out loud when they finished. The event was a success because they did write.

But all night, I felt as if I was speaking in a foreign language, the language of someone who doesn’t know how to act around children and their parents.

Sometimes Stepchildren are All Right

Sue Fagalde Lick stepchildren

When I married Fred, he had three children from his first marriage. The youngest was 8 and the other two were teenagers. As with most of us, I had no idea what I was getting into. I could not imagine that the daughter would get pregnant and married at 17, that the youngest son would live with us from age 11 to 20, or that long periods of time would pass with no communication between us and Fred’s kids. Ours was not just a geographical separation but an emotional separation as well. Fred was not a hands-on dad, and I didn’t feel confident leaping over him to cozy up to the three kids. We were cordial enough, but it certainly wasn’t like I imagine having our own would be.

Whatever separation we have had over the last 26 years, they rallied last month when their father died. Michael, the youngest at 34, came bearing food. He was here to help me, he said, and he did. So did his sister, Gretchen, 42, who drove nonstop from California. Ted, the oldest, couldn’t get away from work, but he sent a eulogy and was here in spirit.

Gretchen brought her mom. We are lucky that we have always gotten along well. I know that is not the norm, but it was kind of wonderful bringing together the whole picture of Fred’s adult life, each of us sharing the parts that we lived with him. As Gretchen put it at the funeral, “Mom” had the first half of his life, and “Sue” had the second.

We stayed up late drinking wine, going through photos to create a display for the service, and telling stories about Fred. My father and brother also came up from California and it really did feel like one happy family. In death, Fred brought us all together, and I felt the barriers between us dissolve.

Will I see them again now that Fred is gone? I think I will. It took a lot of years but we are finally a family.

If your stepchildren are giving you nothing but grief, hang in there. They will grow up, and you will always have one big thing in common: You all love the same person.