Year: 2013

Childless Can Enjoy Other People’s Kids

Sue Fagalde Lick aunts, childless, childless enjoying other people's kids, Christianity Today, discomfort around babies, Gina Dalfonzo, godparents, helping with other people's children

Last week I expressed my discomfort around other people’s babies. Lots of you agreed with me, but not every person without children feels that way. Many are fabulous aunts, godmothers and friends to other people’s kids. Others are teachers, caregivers, music directors, or coaches who interact with children all the time. 

Yes, some of us are more at home around puppies than human babies, but a great article posted at Christianity Today called “I’m Childless, Not Child-Incompetent” tells the other side of the story. Please don’t let the Christian setting scare you away if you’re not religious. It’s really about the divide between parents and non-parents and the misconception that all childless people are clueless about babies and don’t want to be around them. Author Gina Dalfonzo talks about her relationship with her godchildren and about how people who don’t have their own children have special gifts to offer those who do.

I know. Some of us have so little experience with children that we just don’t know how to act around them. Others feel so bad about their inability to become parents that they can’t look at a baby without bursting into tears. But many childless people jump in and help with kids, and I suspect doing so helps lessen their own feelings of loss or grief. Hey, how else can you get to play with Barbie, sing silly songs or watch the latest Smurf movie?

Read the article and let me know what you think. 

Making faces at babies

Sue Fagalde Lick babies in restaurants, childless reaction to babies, how people act around babies, other people's babies, Ruby's Cafe

I have a question. Why am I just plain silly over baby dogs, deer, quail, birds, anything but human babies? When I see baby animals, I hear myself talking in that high silly voice and melting in the way that other women melt at the sight of a human baby. But when I see a baby, I don’t know how to act. Aren’t they the same thing? So what if human babies have two legs and no fur? They’re as small and cute as any puppy. And yet, I don’t react the same way.

Last week, I was sitting in a restaurant in Missoula, Montana–Ruby’s Cafe, great place–watching this little guy about a year and a half old a couple booths over. Unlike the crazed noisemakers that can spoil the eating experience for some of us, this baby in his blue and white striped onesie was quiet and charming. He was a busy kid, climbing around on the table, playing with the silverware while his parents basically ignored him. One time when I looked up, he had a plastic tub of creamer in each hand. But he was quiet about it.

I watched an older man approach him. The man made faces and waved at the baby as the child grinned. They interacted for several minutes before the man moved on and I went back to my book, thinking why can’t I do that? Is it because I have no experience with babies? Am I protecting my heart from the pain of knowing I never will have them while I can have all the dogs I want?

What do you think? How are you around other people’s babies? 

Grieving? Find Your ‘Fishtrap’ Experience

Sue Fagalde Lick Fishtrap, grieving over childlessness, Holly Hughes, not having children, not having grandchildren, poets, relief for grief, religious gardens, The Grotto, writers

 

 
We sat on a circle on the deck, warming in the sun as we wrote poetry. Nearby, the river rushed noisily toward the sea. Squirrels chased each other down the spruce tree and across the deck while a doe silently watched from a few feet away. This was the scene during my mornings last week at the Fishtrap writers workshop in Eastern Oregon. Writers from all over the country gathered to study with experts in all different types of writing. I was one of a dozen in Holly Hughes’ poetry class, a wonderful blend of meditation, mindfulness and creative writing. We writers quickly bonded. There were young people here, too, participating in a program for teens. Young or old, parents or not, married or not, it didn’t matter because we had come together to do something we love. More than spouses or parents or grandparents, we were writers. And I did not feel bad even once about not having children.
In contrast, when I got back to the real world, I visited The Grotto in Portland, which is like a giant Catholic garden, with sculptures and paintings telling the stories of Jesus, Mary and Joseph amid the trees and flowers. Recorded music plays above an outdoor chapel as you walk through the gardens, pausing to think about the Bible stories depicted in the art. It’s lovely, but it’s also full of people with their kids. I was walking through the rose garden when I heard a child call “Baba!” I turned to see a woman about my age stop and hold her arms open wide as her granddaughter ran into her embrace. Suddenly I wanted to weep. I had been looking at religious scenes for 45 minutes, feeling nothing, but this I felt. It was one of those moments. If you’re childless, you know what I mean.
But let’s get back to the joy of Fishtrap. If we immerse ourselves in things we love, we can stop dwelling on the children we don’t have and just enjoy being with people who like to do the same things we like to do. There were some people at Fishtrap who were not writers, who had come as chaperones for their teen-aged kids. And you know what? I felt sorry for them because they always had to worry about the kids. I didn’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I was totally free to write and think and make new friends.
The moral of this story is that you can find relief from your grief by immersing yourself in something you love. It doesn’t have to be writing; it can be anything that takes you out of yourself and into something that captures your mind and heart.
Is there something you can do, someplace you can go to give yourself that Fishtrap feeling?

Fourth of July brings out the baby blues

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness and holidays, Fourth of July, jealous of baby bumps, Waldport Oregon, watching others with children, Yachats Oregon

It was Fourth of July. Everyone seemed to be gathered in family groups, and there I was with my dog Annie. My friends I had planned to spend the day with had suddenly gotten busy with visiting children and grandchildren, so I headed to Yachats, a small town to the south where the 1960s continue unchanged. They were having a street fair. After walking around a little bit, Annie and I settled in one of the plastic chairs near the stage where a group was performing music that seemed to be a blend of reggae, New Age and yoga chants. Annie leaned against my legs, nervous in the crowd, a little worried about the tie-die-garbed woman doing a hula hoop dance a few feet away, the lady doing henna tattoos under the canopy next to the stage, and the tiny human who kept asking if she could pet my doggie. Sure, I said and watched her pat Annie’s broad tan back.

Next to me, the little girl’s mom exposed her baby bump between her midriff top and long skirt. She had flowers henna-tattooed around and below her navel. I will not let this bother me, I told myself. I sang along with the music, I pet my dog, I stared at the blue sky and green trees rising up behind the stage. The temperature was perfect, we had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. But there were kids and moms and dads everywhere.

The night before, watching fireworks in Waldport, I was surrounded by couples with children, little ones and big ones. I felt like I didn’t fit in. And here, watching barefoot young women in flowing dresses dance with their children, I had to wonder how I missed out on something so natural and normal. Men and women come together and make babies. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go? Didn’t I want that? Where did I lose my way? If I had stayed with my first husband, wouldn’t we eventually have had children? Maybe I should have married someone else. But I was 22. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know this could happen to me.

Annie was getting hot and restless. I was getting sad. “Come on,” I said, and we went home to our big house and big yard with no children and no mothers.

Sorry. I’m feeling down today. You know how that goes. I hate holidays. They bring out the blues. Don’t you find that’s true? How was Fourth of July for you?

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Starting Sunday afternoon, I’m going to be offline most of the time for a week or so. If I don’t get to your comments or post something new, please be patient. I will seek out wi-fi as often as I can. Have a great week.

How old is too old to have a baby?

Sue Fagalde Lick ability to conceive, getting pregnant in your 40s, How Long Can You Wait to Have a Baby? biological clock, Jean Twenge, older women having babies, too old to conceive

How long can you wait to have a baby? People toss all kinds of numbers around. Is 35 too late? Is 40 the absolute latest? How about 45? A recent article in the Atlantic, “How Long Can You Wait to Have a Baby?” offers some facts which may be especially helpful for childless readers who are panicking because they’re afraid they’re too old. Maybe not. Author Jean Twenge had all three of her children after age 35.

The article mentions two important points that aren’t always included in the discussion: Are all the reproductive organs working properly, and are you having sex regularly, especially during the most fertile times? Answer those questions before deciding you’re infertile or too old. If you have not tried to conceive before, it’s possible there are previously undiscovered problems that might need to be solved before the baby-making commences. And some women do start menopause early. (Not me. When I was about 50, my doctor told me I could still probably get pregnant if my husband hadn’t had a vasectomy.) But if everything is working, Twenge says most couples who do their homework will get pregnant naturally within a year.

Of course that doesn’t solve the situation where your partner doesn’t want to have children with you, but it might help you to relax a little.  

What do you think about this? How does your age fit into your situation? Are you afraid you’re running out of time? Are you having trouble making your partner understand this? Do you know if you have any physical problems that might make conception more difficult? And of course the ever-popular question: Do you stay in a relationship where having children is getting more unlikely by the day or leave and hope to find someone else before it’s too late?

I look forward to your comments.  

Must childless stepmothers and their stepchildren hate each other?

Sue Fagalde Lick blended families, childless stepmothers, children from previous marriages, stepchildren, stepchildren hating stepmothers, Stepparents

Is it impossible for stepparents and stepchildren to get along? Reading the postings in Facebook’s Childless Stepmothers group, one would think so. I rarely read all the new posts because they contain so much anger I start to feel sick. They don’t use names; they use abbreviations. The husband is DH, the stepkids are SS and SD and the biological mothers are BMs (make of that what you will). They’re all talking bad about each other, lying to each other, and refusing to spend time with each other. They’re tangled up in disputes over money and custody. Holidays really bring out the teeth and claws. She gets the kids. They didn’t send me a card. The kid stole my money. It’s ugly.

The fact that these stepmothers don’t have their own children seems to make it worse. In many cases, including mine and quite a few of yours, the husband uses the existing kids from the previous marriage(s) as the reason he doesn’t want to have anymore children. He cites money, age, and fears about everybody getting along, and says he’s finished that phase of his life. So when the childless stepmother sees him spending time with his kids, and when they go through the milestones of life—graduations, weddings, babies—she feels the hurt, and she’s angry that she doesn’t get to have any of that with her own biological children.
Does it have to be a constant war? I do know cases where everybody gets along, where genuine love exists between the stepkids and the stepparents, where the “step” disappears. Surely it’s possible.
I don’t want to say too much about my own situation because my Childless by Marriage book caused more than enough trouble between me and Fred’s kids. But I will say that it was never the constant catfight I read about other families having. We all did our best to get along. Almost 30 years after we met, it’s not the warm and fuzzy situation we might like to have, but we don’t hate each other. We even kind of like each other. Plus, I consider my husband’s ex-wife a friend. We shared a church pew at his funeral. Weird? Maybe, but I was glad she was there with the kids.
Being a childless stepmother is a tough role. You get the responsibilities of caring for someone else’s kids, but you don’t get a chance to have your own. In addition, you get all the garbage that comes with every stepparenting situation—the shuttling between parents, the child support payments, the arguments over discipline, and the resentful child shouting, “You’re not my mom!” It’s not easy for anybody. But does it have to be a disaster?
What do you think? I’d love to hear your experiences with stepchildren.

Childless vs. childfree—the great divide

Sue Fagalde Lick Ageleke Zapis, books about being childfree, books about childlessness, childfree rant, childless vs. childfree, Childless Woman's Guide to Raising Children, Jen Kirkman


When the book arrived in the mail, I looked forward to reading it—until I realized it was aimed at parents. A Childless Woman’s Guide to Raising Children by Ageleke Zapis is not much of a book, to be honest, just a childfree woman’s rant about how kids should be kept quiet, well-behaved and out of situations designed for adults. Zapis offers the typical childfree attitude that parents are mindless breeders and that she is smarter than they are, so they should take her advice. I’m amazed that people, all parents, have posted positive reviews on Amazon, but then I’m not a parent.
The book had “childless” in the title, but clearly neither the author nor the publicity agent who wanted me to review the book understood what “Childless by Marriage” is all about. I had to write back to her to explain that most of the people reading this blog do not have children AND they feel bad about it.
We all wish sometimes we could tell parents what to do with their kids. I admit that when somebody’s toddler is screaming at church or banging his metal toy car against the back of the pew, I want to scream, “Get that kid out of here!” But I would never presume to know how to handle it any better.
The point I’m trying to get to is that the world of people without children has broken sharply into the childless—we wanted them, didn’t have them for reasons not of our choosing, and grieve the loss—and the childfree—didn’t want them, glad we don’t have them, no regrets. It really is quite a difference. We don’t seem to speak the same language.
I’m sure you all have met people who told you they didn’t have kids and were happy about it. They enjoy their freedom from the burdens of raising children. They don’t understand why you tear up when you see a baby or why you ache with jealousy when someone you know announces she’s pregnant.
We can find lots of blogs, groups and books for the childfree crowd and a few for the childless. Just last week, I told you about Jen Kirkman’s book I Can Barely Take Care of Myself. I enjoyed that book. Kirkman is a good writer, but she is not mourning the loss of her would-be children. She never wanted them.
For a list of other books about being childless/childfree, visit my Childless by Marriage webpage. You’ll see that the attitude of people writing on this topic has changed over the years from the sorrow of infertility to struggling to choose whether or not to have children to the happiness of being childfree.
These days, “childless” means different things to different people. There’s a divide between childlessness by infertility or circumstance, and childlessness by choice. Have you experienced the disconnect between the “childless and the childfree? I’d love to hear your stories.

Lee Ann: If I had it to do over . . .

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, mothering stepchildren, regrets about childlessness, taking in stepchildren


I have been following up on what happened to some of the women in my Childless by Marriage book. Today we hear from Lee Ann. I first met Lee Ann in a choir where we sang together here on the Oregon Coast. She met me for a heartfelt interview way back in 1999. Highly educated, working as a social service administrator, she had been married twice and had no biological children. But when her second husband’s two daughters showed up mistreated and abandoned, she took them in as her own. The marriage ended, but she has continued to have a close relationship with her stepdaughters.

She is now 61, retired and living in Portland. Although I already knew what she would say to some of these questions, she patiently answered them all.
Did you wind up having children after all?
Nope.
When people ask you now why you don’t have children, what do you tell them?
No one’s ever asked that, so I guess I’m lucky. Probably I would make some vague remark about it not being in the cards.
Do you regret the choices that led to you not having children?
Yes.
If you could go back and change things, would you?
Yes.
Are there stepchildren or other children in your life that fill the gap?
There are stepchildren with whom I remain close, even though I often wonder if biological children would be more attentive to me when I’m feeling neglected. But I know that biological parents often feel neglected by their kids, too . . .
Are you worried about being alone in old age? 
No, but I do worry about being a burden—and having enough money to live comfortably.
What are you proudest of doing in your life so far? Could you have done this if you had children?
Lots of little things I’m proud of doing, including “saving” my stepdaughters from their extremely neglectful mother. Most things I could have done regardless of having biological children. Could have done a whole lot more, probably, if I hadn’t had to save (and support) my stepdaughters.
What would you say to others who are dealing with partners or spouses who can’t/don’t want to have children?
See a therapist to work it out. If I’d started therapy before taking on my stepdaughters and their father, I would have had to deal with the issue of what it is in my personality that makes me sacrifice so much of my own needs for the sake of others. My final decision about staying or leaving would have had a much more solid basis had I made it with the clarity about myself that I gained in therapy much later in life.

Author writes about her happy life without kids

Sue Fagalde Lick books about childlessness, childless by marriage, comment from childless woman, Happy life without kids, Jen Kirkman


In the interest of keeping us all up to date on books being published about childlessness, I offer one of the latest entries into the childless field. For an extensive list of books about childlessness, visit my Childless by Marriage website.

I Can Barely Take Care of Myself: Tales from a Happy Life Without Kids by Jen Kirkman, Simon & Schuster, 2013. Kirkman, a stand-up comedian and comedy writer who frequently appears on TV in “Chelsea Lately” and other shows, has put her comic skills to work on this memoir about why she never wanted kids and how she deals with a world that seems bent on convincing her to become a mom. Readers who are childless by choice will cheer her on as she confronts relatives, employers and friends who just don’t seem to understand. Readers who did not choose to be childless will still enjoy the stories and identify with the challenges she faces. While I didn’t laugh out loud too often, I did enjoy reading it. Even the most mom-centric readers will enjoy chapters with titles like “Misadventures in Babysitting,” “Jesus Never Changed Diapers,” “I Don’t have the Mom Jeans Gene,” and “Faking It for George Clooney.”

***
On a more serious note,  I often get comments on this blog from people who are having a very hard time with their childless situation. One of the saddest came in yesterday. It’s the Anonymous comment from June 13, 2013 by a 47-year-old woman whose life has been full of disappointment. I responded the best I could, but it would be great if others here could offer sympathy and advice. Read the comment here.

Have a great weekend, dear friends. And if you’re a childless man for whom Father’s Day is no fun at all, I hope you can find a way to avoid the pain. Whatever happens, it will be over in a matter of hours. Hang in there.

Followup: If I had it to do over again . . .

Sue Fagalde Lick abortion, childless by marriage, old age without children, regret not having children, when your partner doesn't want children
Years have passed since I interviewed the childless women who are quoted in my Childless by Marriage book. I have begun contacting them to find out what happened after we talked. Are they still with the same guy? Did they have children after all? How do they feel now about not having children? Most recently I caught up with “Aline,” who went by another name in the book but prefers to keep her identify private.
When we talked in 2004, Aline, a journalist, told me that her ex-boyfriend had insisted she abort the pregnancy she had at age 30. She had always planned to have children but had not found the right partner to do it with. At age 34, she said she would go ahead and have a child on her own if it didn’t happen within the next six months. As you’ll see, that didn’t happen.
If you were with a guy when we talked, are you still with him?
I’ve been single for the past year.
Did you wind up having children after all? Is there any chance you still might?
Unfortunately not. Considering my age, I think it’s unlikely. I suppose I can still get pregnant, but no man I know wants a baby with a 42-year-old, regardless of how attractive she may be.
When people ask you now why you don’t have children, what do you tell them?
I want to tell them it’s none of their business, but I just smile and change the subject.
Do you regret the choices that led to you not having children?
Yes. It’s eating me up. I feel like I’ve missed out in life. I feel inadequate and everyone makes me feel so.
If you could go back and change things, would you?
Absolutely. I would listen to my mom and be less picky about men. I would also have kept the baby I was expecting at age 30 and wouldn’t take into consideration the father’s (who incidentally is now married with two children) demands that I get an abortion.
Are there stepchildren or other children in your life that fill the gap?
I wish! I have a 13-year-old niece though who often asks why she doesn’t have a cousin from me.
11. Are you worried about being alone in old age?
All the time. It upsets me that no one will be there for me in my old age. It’s a source of anxiety.
What are you proudest of doing in your life so far? Could you have done this if you had children?
I had an exciting career as a journalist and film critic, traveling all over the world. And I live much of the year in Paris. It upsets me that I have no one to share these with. My friends juggle kids and career, so it wouldn’t have been impossible to raise kids at the same time. It just takes organization and discipline.
What would you say to others who are dealing with partners or spouses who can’t/don’t want to have children?
If you really want children and your partner doesn’t or can’t, then you need to re-evaluate your relationship. Do you love the person enough to make this compromise? You may wake up in ten years’ time full of regret. It’s a big and important issue and if you can’t change his/her mind, then it’s time to move on. Never compromise your happiness for a partner. I should know—I did and it kills me a bit each year.