Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

‘You Don’t Have Children? Why, Why, Why?’

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childfree-by-choice, childless, why don't you have children, why not just adopt? , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Have you heard people without children called selfish? I know I have.

People make assumptions. You don’t have children because you can’t be bothered caring for them. You don’t want to spend the money or the time. You want to travel or rise in the corporate world. You’re a “career gal.” You hate kids. You’re selfish.

Most of these assumptions are wrong, and they hurt, especially if you wanted children and were not able to have them. Even if you’re childless by choice, you have your reasons, which may not be selfish at all.

We’re forever being asked to justify our situation even though it’s nobody else’s business. Maria Garcia wrote a guest post about this for the Substack “Life Without Children” and also spoke about it in a live interview with Substack author Ali Hall.

Garcia, 30, hasn’t decided yet whether or not to have children, but she was struck by a conversation with her cousin in which the cousin labeled as selfish a younger woman who said she didn’t want children. The cousin has been struggling with infertility, so the subject is a touchy one for her.

Following that conversation, Garcia came upon an Instagram post that offered “One Hundred Reasons Not to Have Children.” Some of those reasons were frivolous—so much laundry—but Garcia and Hall both agree that we shouldn’t have to justify our choices. “When “I say I just don’t want them,” Hall says, people should accept that. “We are so much more than our reproductive status.”

Garcia adds, “We complement each other in our differences. We don’t have to all do the same thing.”

I highly recommend Garcia’s article, “Motherhood, Choice, and the Endless Need for Justifications.” as well as the video you will find at the same site.

In our Childless by Marriage world, trying to justify our situation gets complicated and uncomfortable. If we’re the one who wouldn’t/couldn’t have a baby, we have our reasons but certainly don’t want to discuss them every time people discover we are not parents. And if we have chosen to stick with a partner who wouldn’t/couldn’t, we face other challenges. Why do you stay with them? He could have his vasectomy reversed. You could adopt. You would make such a good mother or father. How can you give that up?

People who assume everybody has kids may think you have buckets of money and endless freedom to live as perpetual children. That’s so not true. Kids or not, we are adults with adult responsibilities.

Do you find yourself justifying, defending, explaining, often to folks who don’t get it, who think if you REALLY wanted children, you would have them, so it must be your fault? I know I do. People are full of what we woulda coulda shoulda done, but we have to live our own lives, which may not include children.

If you Google “reasons not to have children,” you can spend all day reading the various lists, but the truth is it’s nobody’s business but your own, whether it’s a choice, a painful non-choice, or something in between. We all react based on our own biases and experiences.

Do you find people demanding to know why you don’t have children—and then telling you why you’re wrong?

Let’s talk about it in the comments.

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Childless stand out when surrounded by children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless and baby pictures, envying families with children, family as code for children, traveling alone , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends:

I live in a childfree bubble. I had to get away from my home on the Oregon coast to see that. Where I live, hanging out mostly with people over 60, I just don’t see a lot of children. Sure, my friends will show off photos of their grandkids, and sometimes they jet off to spend time with them, but day to day, no kids.

Traveling around the Southwestern United States has shown me what many of you see as you negotiate your childless lives wherever you live. 

I’m currently staying in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are kids everywhere, in the restaurants, in the hotel elevator, dominating the swimming pool, and at every tourist attraction. In this multicultural city, children of every color follow their parents and siblings like ducks. 

Last night at a JC Penney restroom, four kids and their mother filled all the stalls, yelling to each other in Spanish, voices amplified by the tile walls. I encountered the same children in the dressing room, banging on doors and laughing as I tried on pants. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to behave. 

Mean old gringa lady. 

I want to be the nice elderly woman children love, but sometimes I feel more like a witch. I’m just not used to kids. 

I spent a few days in Tucson, Arizona, staying with a cousin at her deluxe retirement home. While she was at church, I tried to write. An electronic photo frame nearby kept changing pictures, almost all of them of my cousin’s only grandchild. Cute kid, even more precious because she was adopted after her parents could not conceive, but I got tired of looking at her. If I had my own children, would I have that warm squishy feeling mothers seem to get when they see little ones, the feeling I get with dogs? 

My cousin’s daughter and granddaughter visit often. They travel together. The daughter helps with financial and technical things. When she moved to this home, the daughter and two stepsons did most of the work. 

When she told me that, I kept silent, but I was thinking, gee that must be nice. If/when I decide to move to a home for old folks, I’ll be doing the work myself or paying someone to help. 

As I struggled to sleep on the child-sized big-girl bed in the guest room, with toys stashed in the closet and under the bed, I felt like a perpetual child myself. 

I’m not complaining. Just noticing. My life is so very different. I’m obsessed with my writing and music; they’re obsessed with their families. They have Christmas photos of the whole gang in matching pajamas. I have selfies or pictures of my dog. 

If you are childless and find yourself in a culture where everyone seems to have children, you may find yourself not mentioning your childless state unless asked directly about your kids. You keep it to yourself, aware that saying you never had children can be like saying you’re a Democrat in a room full of Republicans. What? You never had children? They may not say it out loud, but now you’re branded as the childless one. You’re definitely the odd one if you’re traveling alone like me.

As I signed the guest book at a museum the other day, I noticed all the visitors before me were family groups, the Smiths, the Fisher family, etc. I saw no other single names. I signed my name, paid my donation, and moved on. What else can you do? 

Yesterday morning in Albuquerque, I found a seat away from the crowd in the breakfast room and watched the traffic go by. So many mothers, fathers, and kids, the children following like sheep or bounding ahead demanding pancakes or Lucky Charms. The parents could not relax with their own food because they had to help the kids, but I don’t think they minded. They moved and ate as a family. Later, they left the hotel rolling their big and little suitcases, and it looked so nice to be part of a family. 

But oh, my tea and my cinnamon roll slathered with butter tasted so good. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else as I finished quickly and hurried upstairs to write undisturbed.

Outside the elevator, I ran into a couple with a gorgeous German shepherd that dashed up to sniff me. She knew I was a dog mom, not a mother of little humans. I wanted to bury my face in her lush fur.

I am learning so much on this trip, part work and part vacation. 

Sometimes you can’t get away from the big division between you and the parenting people. It isn’t always a bad thing, but it is a thing. 

Are you surrounded by children where you live? Or do you find them when you travel? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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Is the Declining Birth Rate a Real Problem?

Sue Fagalde Lick overpopulation, pronatalism , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Simone and Malcolm Collins have six kids and are hoping for ten, each produced by in vitro fertilization and delivered by C-section, because they believe the U.S. is heading for a crisis if people don’t start having more kids. 

A Washington Post article on the couple reports that the average fertility rate in the United States has not been above the 2.1 children per couple replacement rate since 2007, according to World Bank data. “Currently, no country in the developed world, barring Israel, has a fertility rate above replacement level, and, based on U.N. projections, by the end of the century, almost every country will have a shrinking population.”

They are not the only ones concerned that in the not-too-distant future, we will have empty schools and overflowing nursing homes with not enough people to do the work needed to run the world. The Collinses join a growing group of people, mostly firmly on the red side of politics, who decry the tendency to have fewer children as selfish and wrong. Today’s young people just want sex with no responsibilities, they cry. They play around until they’re too old to have babies. 

This, of course, ignores the many reasons people may not have children, including infertility, illness, lack of a willing or able partner, choice, and a wide range of situations that fall somewhere in-between.

Those favoring more baby-making include Vice President J.D. Vance, famous for his comments about childless cat ladies. “I want more babies in the United States of America,” Vance said at the March for Life on Jan. 24, in his first public speech as vice president. The Collinses are hoping to become part of a national “pronatalist task force.”

It’s a big change from the 20th century cry that our growing population would lead to disaster. Having too many people would destroy the land, and overcrowding would make life unlivable. Paul Erlich’s The Population Bomb was required reading when I was in school. Now, people are reading Empty Planet, about how our shrinking population is going to lead to big trouble.

Population growth has always been a cyclical thing.

One of my great grandmothers had 13 children. Another had seven. It was what people did back when most women saw few life choices beyond motherhood or the convent. Birth control and abortion were not easily accessible. If you had sex, you had children. 

Before the advances of modern medicine with its vaccines and antibiotics, many babies didn’t survive to adulthood, so it made sense to have more. I don’t know if any of my ancestors’ children died young. Everyone who knew them is gone now. But it seems likely.

My grandmothers each had two, plus one miscarriage each. Don’t ask me how they limited it. Who thinks about grandparents having sex?

My own parents married right after World War II, the height of the baby boom. With the war over, the world looked bright and shiny, the men had VA loans and GI bill money, and jobs were plentiful. It only took one income to buy a house and raise a family. So, they did. Two kids, sometimes three. My parents used condoms; my brother found them when he was snooping around. 

Values were different in those days. While married couples were expected to procreate and the only ones who didn’t were physically unable to, my parents made it clear pregnancy outside of marriage would RUIN YOUR LIFE. Girls who got themselves “in trouble” were shuffled off to a distant aunt or a home for unwed mothers to have their babies and give them up for adoption. Now, nearly half of babies are born to single mothers, and nobody cares. 

You’d think that would lead to more babies, but there are other factors. About the time I lost my virginity, birth control and abortion were becoming legal and obtainable. Women were moving into the workforce, demanding equal opportunities with men. Divorce became more common, sometimes leading to people marrying people who had already had their children and didn’t want anymore. 

It became quite possible for women to survive on their own without marriage and for couples to decide maybe they wouldn’t have kids. 

Fast forward to the grandchildren of the baby boomers. The birth rate has plummeted for many reasons. Young people are so busy finishing their education and building their careers they don’t get around to considering children until it’s too late. It costs so much to purchase a home they don’t know how they can possibly afford to raise families. Marriages may not last, the economy may implode, wars are happening, people are shooting children in the schools, and the climate is going nuts. Plus, no one can afford daycare.

In view of recent events, when so many people working at what seemed to be long-lasting government jobs are suddenly fired without notice, severance pay, or options for future employment, a lot of people are worried. If you’re not even sure you can support yourself, how can you support children? 

All of this leads me to wonder what will happen with today’s young people. How many will never have children because it just seems impossible? Will we see a new baby boom as the Maga wave washes away abortion rights and maybe goes after birth control next, as women and non-traditional couples see their equality fading away?

Or will the trend keep heading downward? Will people without children stop being the exception, the odd ones in the room who don’t have baby pictures to show? 

Is this all a lot of stewing about nothing? People will always have sex. Sex leads to babies, except when the body says no or we use some form of birth control. Contraception might become more expensive or more complicated to get, but it will be there. If you’re in a partnership where one wants to have children and the other doesn’t, changes in laws and availability may lead to more arguments but probably not to more babies. 

Nor will couples go back to the “Leave it to Beaver” lifestyle where the woman tends the home and children while the man earns the money. Nobody can afford it, and most women want their lives to include more than motherhood.

What do you think? Have you seen the attitude toward having children change? In what way? Do concerns about world population affect your decision in any way? What do you think it will be like twenty years from now?

Additional Reading

https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/pressroom/nchs_press_releases/2024/20240525.htm

Simone and Malcolm Collins want to make America procreate again – The Washington Post

Falling birth rates, why it is happening and how governments are trying to reverse the trend – Michigan Journal of Economics

Why birth rates are falling, and why that’s not a bad thing | Popular Science

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The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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Will You Ever Find Peace with Your Childlessness? 

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", accepting a life without children., childless grief, infertility, menopause for childless women, regret, regret not having children , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Facing a future with no children used to drive me crazy. Back when I was fertile and married to a man who was not, I cried a lot, mostly where he couldn’t see me. I resented my friends whose lives revolved around their kids. I did not want to hear their happy stories or look at their pictures. Baby showers? What do I know about babies? Count me out.

As far as I knew, there was nothing wrong with my baby-making parts, but they were being wasted, evidenced by painful periods every month, reminders I was running out of time. 

Now I’m 72, childless and widowed. Although being alone can be difficult, I have to tell you that I don’t think about childlessness all the time anymore. If you are in your 20s, 30s, or early 40s, feeling bad because you wanted children and might never have even one baby, know that it does get easier. Like any loss, it doesn’t go away, but you do learn to live with it. 

Yes, you will feel breakthrough grief and anger. You’ll see a family at play or hold someone else’s baby and think I could have had that, but as you get older, it will become a less important feature in your life. You will wonder who will care for you in old age, but know that even if you had children, they might not be available to help.

When you’re surrounded by people getting married and having babies, you feel excluded, jealous, and angry at whatever keeps you from having the children you always wanted. Or you resent the people who keep pushing you to have the children you never wanted. You’ll regret it, they warn. What if they’re right? It can be a brutal time. 

The night before my 40th birthday, I had a meltdown that I describe in my Childless by Marriage book. At a Catholic women’s retreat, everyone was talking about their kids. Our guided meditation put me face to face with what I had lost, and it felt unbearable. As the women running the retreat held me, I sobbed in front of everyone. I felt broken. It didn’t help that I really wanted a drink, and there was no alcohol around.

But as I approached menopause, so many other things took my attention. My writing career was taking off. I was performing music almost every weekend. I earned my long-delayed master’s degree. We moved from San Jose, California to Oregon and experienced a very different life in a small coastal town.

My mother died, my husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, and my father needed lots of help before he passed away. You hear about the “sandwich generation,” about people caught between caring for their children and caring for their parents. Without children, we can be open-faced sandwiches, helping our older relatives without neglecting our children. 

By my 50s, people stopped bugging me about having kids, and my friends were free to do non-kid activities again. Yes, the grandchildren came, but that was an off and on thing. We could still be friends.

Do I wish I was a grandmother? Sometimes. but childlessness is not at the front of my mind anymore. I took a different path, and it’s too late to turn back.

With every choice, you lose the chance to pursue the other option. By moving to Oregon, we lost the chance to grow old in San Jose, closer to family and so many resources that don’t exist here. If I had married someone else or not married at all, my story would be different. You choose one road and let the other one go.

I can torture myself by imagining what it would be like to have children, how they would look, what we would do together, how I would hold my grandbabies in my arms. But my life didn’t go that way, and I suspect that’s how it was meant to be. 

Not having children has given me the gift of great gobs of time that mothers don’t always have. Time and freedom. I don’t have to find a babysitter or take a kid with me if I decide I want to go to lunch, take a walk on the beach, or spend the night elsewhere. I just go. 

Would I trade my freedom for a walk on the beach with my son or daughter, maybe with their children splashing in the surf or building sandcastles? In a heartbeat. But that’s not on the menu for me. And I’m 80 percent okay with it.  

Maybe you’re at that age when becoming a parent would still be possible under other current circumstances and you’re driving yourself crazy trying to decide what to do: Leave your partner in the hope of finding someone who will give you kids? Try IVF? Hire a surrogate? Adopt? You may fight with your partner over it and cry a lot.

I know how bad it hurts. I’m saying that later it will be easier. Childlessness will not be the center of your life, and that makes room for other things, wonderful things. 

That’s not nothing.

How about you? Are you going crazy over being childless? Do you regret the choices that led you to be without children? Did you have a choice? Do you think you will ever be okay with it? Or are you fine with it now? Have you found peace with your situation? How?

I’m great-grandmother old. Tell me how it is for you at whatever age you are.

I welcome your comments.

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If you enjoy this blog, you may want to visit my Substack, Can I Do It Alone?

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“I Chose to Be Childfree. I didn’t think I was choosing isolation, too” 

Sue Fagalde Lick childless feeling left out, losing friends when they have babies, when your best friend gets pregnant , , , , , , , , ,

When writer Cassidy Randall’s friend announced that she was pregnant, Randall felt betrayed. The friend she counted on to join her for spontaneous trips, hikes, concerts, or whatever struck their fancy, would soon join the circle of parents whose lives revolved around their families. 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. One by one, everyone seemed to be leaving her for the mommy track.

When she chose her childfree life, Randall writes in a Jan. 9 article at The Guardian, “I never consciously chose the tradeoff of categorical exclusion from conversations, gatherings and entire friend circles.” 

For those of us who are also single, I think we feel the same kind of loss when our partnerless friends find someone and become unavailable. Suddenly, it’s “Sorry, X and I have plans” or “Sorry, his kids are coming over.” While we’re glad they’re happy, we feel abandoned. You thought you were partners in non-parenting, and suddenly you’re on the outside looking in. 

Randall suffered from endometriosis. When she had surgery for it, the doctor asked if she’d like him to remove her fallopian tubes, too, since she didn’t plan to have children. She told him to go ahead, not realizing this choice would set her apart for the rest of her life. 

Parents are linked by school and after-school events. They meet for playdates, birthday parties, or just to chat about mutual concerns.  I remember the years when most of our church choir had young kids. I often found myself left out of the conversations as they discussed soccer or swim events, shared rides, frustrations with particular teachers, religious education, etc. They were not even aware of me loitering nearby, not sure whether to butt in or just go home. 

Now, we have more in common because their kids are grown. I only feel left out when they start sharing the grandbaby photos. I try to fit in with pictures of my great nieces and nephews, but it’s not the same.

Randall did not want to lose her friends, so she tried to keep in touch. When a friend who usually turned down her invitations was finally able to go skiing with her, the friend thanked her for the invitation and for not giving up. She was glad to know there was still life outside of parenting. 

Years ago, I published an essay in an anthology called My Other Ex, about women’s friendships breaking up. I had lost a friend who became so obsessed with her kids she didn’t seem to see me, even when I was in the same room. Before she had children, we worked together, turning out articles for a local newspaper, and had lots of fun outside of work. She was a bridesmaid for my second wedding. But then the babies came. After one too many times being ignored, I gave up.

Many years later, I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. The boys must be grown by now. With the maturity of age and having been a caregiver for my parents and my husband, I understand she had no choice back then. Caring for little kids takes all of your attention, time, and energy. You can’t just put them in the yard like a puppy. But when the kids go to school and get old enough to look away for a while, your friends have more time for you, if you stick around. 

Parenting is often said to be the most important job there is. I don’t have to be a parent to see that. But how do we fit into the picture without feeling completely isolated? 

I have no perfect answers. When my friends and family were having babies, I mostly shied away. But I do have some suggestions:

  • Don’t take offense because they’re too busy to socialize with you. They just can’t right now. 
  • Instead of focusing on your own lack of children, take an interest in theirs. Join their activities when you can. Cheer at their soccer games, go with them to Chuck E. Cheese, or watch a child-friendly movie together. You can bring the popcorn. 
  • Offer to help, even to babysit if you’re comfortable with that.
  • Keep in touch. Invite them out or ask if you can come over. If they say no, try to understand. Someday, they might say yes.
  • A “how are you doing?” text or a bouquet of flowers might make their day.
  • Help them buy gifts for their kids. Sit with them at the hospital if a child is hurt or take care of the healthy siblings. Help pick up the Legos. Bring food so they don’t have to cook.
  • Instead of feeling betrayed and left out, expand your friendship into honorary aunthood. Expand your two-some to include the mate and kids.  

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, the saying goes.

I know it’s hard. It might be too painful to be around children when you can’t have any of your own. A good friend will understand that. Maybe you can Facetime while the kids are napping or arrange a “playdate” for just you and your friend. Sometimes you are going to be left out, no matter what you do or say, because you don’t have children. Our lives are different; it can’t be helped. We may have to make new friends. But we can at least be open to staying connected. 

Enough from me. When do you feel most isolated, especially among people who have children? How do you react? Do you have any advice for how to deal with this?

Feel free to share stories of times when you felt especially left out or to disagree with my suggestions. 

Anything that makes us different, including childlessness, age, disability, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and so many other things, can divide us. I feel that way not only because I’m childless but because I’m widowed and live alone. I write about it at my Substack “Can I Do It Alone?” My main goal there, as for everything I write, is to build community and to shine a light on what our lives are like.  

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Politicians trot out their families while we remain childless

Sue Fagalde Lick painful reasons for being childless, people who don't understand childless, Reasons not to have children , , , , , , , , , , ,

On Monday, some of us watched the second inauguration of President Donald Trump. A lot of my friends chose to do other things, but it’s history, so I watched.

Trump has a huge family, five grown children and their spouses and ten grandchildren, who all kind of look like him. Clearly, he has no problems with fertility. He preaches the gospel of family, although one has to wonder how involved he actually was when they were growing up. In addition to his wives, he had the means to hire paid help and send the kids to private school.

Good for him. Really. But what about single mothers who can’t afford day care, private school or even a decent car? The couples who spend years trying unsuccessfully to conceive? The unmarried veteran living in a crummy apartment because he/she can’t afford a house?

Trump’s vice president, JD Vance, showed off his own beautiful family. He’s the guy who said childless cat ladies have less of a stake in the future than women with kids.

It might be hard for those guys to understand why so many young people are not having children these days, why twenty percent of American women reach menopause without becoming mothers.

Yes, some choose a childfree life. That is and should be their right. Every child growing up should know they don’t have to be parents. They can choose other paths. And if they want to be parents but can’t for some reason, their lives are not over. It’s okay to embrace a Plan B, as Jody Day says, despite Russia’s new law against preaching the possibilities of lives without children.

Many of us grew up expecting to be parents, but it didn’t happen. We don’t hate kids. We’re not selfish or immature. But for some reason, we are childless. We grieve the loss of the families we don’t have.

Maybe we are physically unable to conceive or to carry a baby to term. Maybe we or our partners suffer from illnesses we don’t want to pass on to a new generation. Maybe we love someone who is unable or unwilling, and we choose love over children. Maybe we’re gay and have not been able to adopt or get pregnant with medical assistance. Maybe we’re trying to finish our education, pay off our student loans, establish our careers, and, by some miracle, be able to afford to buy a house. Maybe the state of the world is so frightening to us that we don’t want to bring new lives into it, especially when we might not be around when it hits the fan.

Some of us are terrified that the fertility assistance we count on to create a family will become unobtainable under the new administration.

Our leaders need to know these things. They know the birthrate is falling, but they also need to understand why and to help where they can with the financial burden, childcare, healthcare, insurance, and a big dollop of open-mindedness.

They may be no more clueless than your Uncle Joe or the ex-friend who doesn’t understand why you hate baby showers, but they have the power to change our lives in both good and bad ways, so they need to know.  

I don’t know which side of the political spectrum you fall on. However you voted, it’s a done deal now. Perhaps we should write to our legislators and even the president to make them more aware of our needs. Perhaps we should look for candidates who don’t have typical families, so we can show that you don’t have to have a traditional spouse and 2.5 children to be a leader. Or maybe we just need to be more courageous in talking about our situations instead of trying to hide or pretend we’re not childless. It is all right to say to anyone anywhere, “I don’t have children, and here is why.”

What do you think? Let’s talk. Keep it civil. I will not approve mean-spirited political posts about Trump or any other politicians. Readers in other countries, feel free to chime in. Do your leaders understand about childlessness?

BTW, is the .5 child the dog?

If you’re thoroughly sick of politics, visit my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack, where we have been discussing the challenges of cooking for one person. When in doubt, let’s eat.

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Accepting a Childless Life Should Not Be a Crime

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness, husband can't have kids, my wife can't have children, nosy questions, partners who can't give you children , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s illegal now in Russia to advocate a childfree life. Anyone who spreads “propaganda against childbearing” can be fined. Any content in films, advertising, media, and other online platforms that shines a favorable light on life without children is prohibited.

Russian President Vladimir Putin signed these provisions into law in November.

Russia is one of many countries where the birthrate has dropped, causing fears that soon there will lots of old people with no young people to care for them or to keep the country going.

Other nations, including the United States, are experiencing the same problem but haven’t done anything as drastic as Russia’s new law. They lay the blame on the childless by choice, but let’s be real. Far more nonparents are childless by circumstance than by choice. We don’t have kids due to infertility, physical or emotional health problems, lack of a willing partner, or lack of the financial means to support a child. We would like to have children but, for whatever reason, we can’t.

Is it wrong that after grieving our loss, we seek to put a positive spin on the situation? Even some of the posts I have written here suggesting ways to enjoy life without children might be illegal under Russia’s new law. Would it be a crime to name the many highly successful people who never had kids?

Thank God we don’t live in Russia.

And yet, we can detect the same attitude in our own countries, can’t we?

Remember U.S. Vice-President-elect J.D. Vance and his comments about how “childless cat ladies” don’t have a stake in the country’s future?

Entrepreneur/Trump advisor Elon Musk recently wrote on Twitter in regard to dropping birth rates: “Instead of teaching fear of pregnancy, we should teach fear of childlessness.” He suggested the low fertility rates stem from a cultural hostility toward pregnancy and child-rearing. “We need to stop scaring women that having a kid destroys your life.”

Well, let’s put some context on that last bit. When I was young, yes, our parents told us the worst thing that could happen, short of dying, was to get pregnant outside of marriage. It was the sixties, when unwed mothers were still being hidden away and forced to give up their babies for adoption. And yes, having a baby when you’re young, with no education and no husband, can throw a monkey wrench into your plans, but that’s not what Musk is talking about. He’s buying into the common myth that all of us without children are simply selfish.

This attitude isn’t new. Churches, families, friends, co-workers, and clueless strangers have been after us forever with questions about why we don’t have kids and when we’re going to get with the program. They imply that we’re immature and thinking only of ourselves, defying God’s will and depriving our parents of grandchildren. And now, we’re also unbalancing the population. Most of us feel bad enough without all this guilt and misunderstanding.

Birthrates are falling around the world, and many countries, including the U.S., are doing what they can to encourage more babies by offering tax credits, increased parental leave, and better daycare options. That’s all good, but it’s important to acknowledge that some people don’t have a choice and are grieving the loss of the children they might have had. If, like many of us here, we choose childlessness by partnering with people who are unable or unwilling to have babies with us, that should be no one’s business but our own.

Nor should it be a crime to come through the hard decisions and declare that life without children can be happy and fulfilling. Or that we make valuable contributions because we are not busy raising kids. Look at all the famous writers, artists, scientists, and government leaders who never had children.

I sense a growing belief that nonparents have been preaching to the younger generation that kids are a pain and they’re better off without them. That’s not true for most of us, but there’s nothing wrong with letting kids know they have choices, and that parenthood is not required for a good life.

Russia’s reaction is extreme. I don’t expect any other countries to pass similar laws, but the anti-childless attitude is spreading. All we can do is tell our truths and hope people listen.

I hope you are all off to a good start for the new year. Has your childless situation or your feelings about it changed with the coming of 2025? Please share in the comments.

You may also want to take a look at my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” which explores how those of us without partners or children can live our best lives.

If you feel inspired to write a guest post, please get in touch.

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Holiday stepparenting is not all ho-ho-ho

Sue Fagalde Lick alone at Christmas, childless at Christmas, childless stepfathers, childless stepmother, competing with stepchildren for father's attention, holidays with stepchildren, mothering stepchildren , , , , , , , , , , ,
Christmas tree illustrating blog post about being childless at Christmas. It's a small tabletop tree with antique ornaments. Behind it is a window, with pine trees and neighbor's vehicles.

Dear readers,

I shouldn’t have looked at Facebook. Every holiday season, I tell my childless friends to stay off social media because it’s too upsetting. All those happy family pictures, especially the ones featuring babies and children doing happy Christmas things, can rip open the scabs we’re trying to grow over our childless feelings.

If only I followed my own advice.

Look, there they are with Santa. There they are hugging at the airport. There they are around the festive table. See three or four generations gathered together in matching sweaters. . .

Meanwhile, we’re planning dinner for two or maybe just one. If we’re lucky, we can post pictures of our dogs and cats.

Or our stepchildren. I want to give a shout-out to stepmothers and stepfathers this year. It’s a tough job. Some of us give up our dreams of having our own children, thinking our partner’s kids will give us the family we want. But so often, it’s a disappointment.

A reader wrote to me recently about her situation, very similar to mine. The way she described her stepmom situation felt right on: “He told me that he would share his kids with me. They did not want to be shared!”

If you look at it from the kids’ point of view, why would they want a stranger to move into their parent’s home and expect to be some kind of new parent to them? Maybe you’re a child of divorce and experienced that yourself.

Come the holidays, you’re shuffled from parent to parent, often having to spend Christmas away from the place you consider your real home. And now there are other strangers, would-be grandparents, aunts and uncles who don’t seem to get that you already have a family. They expect you to join in new traditions when you have your own.

The divorced parent is caught between the ex-family and the new family.

Divorce sucks.

As for the stepparent hoping to make a family from their partner’s kids, sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. As soon as the kids are old enough to step away, many do. And if you’re no longer with their father or mother, they might step right out of your life. That’s what happened when my husband died. I still love his kids and miss them, but I’m on my own.

This post was inspired by watching my own stepfamily having fun together online. Now there are step-grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but I have never met the youngest ones and probably never will. If my husband were still alive, we could claim this whole beautiful group of young people. I could shower them with love, but now . . . I’ll be going to church and to a friend’s house for Christmas dinner but spending much of the holiday by myself. I’m okay, but I would be more okay if I hadn’t seen those pictures on Facebook.

At Thanksgiving, I offered some suggestions for surviving the childless holidays. If you missed it, take a look at that post.

By now, your holiday plans are probably already set. Maybe you’re reading this from a tropical vacation paradise. Maybe you’re working. Maybe you’re hosting the step-kids this year. Maybe there are no step-kids. Maybe you’re hanging with nieces, nephews or the children of your friends. Kids are fun. It’s not their fault that you feel awkward or sad. Just try to love them if they’re around and enjoy your all-adult life if they’re not.

And take a vacation from Facebook, Instagram, Bluesky, TikTok, or wherever you like to browse. You won’t miss that much, and it will be easier on your heart.

May your holidays be filled with love, peace, and hope for the new year.

Sue

Being an aunt is not the same, but it’s pretty darned good

Sue Fagalde Lick aunts, childless aunts, helping parents at Christmas, Melanie Notkin, no kids at Christmas , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Illustrating the fun aunts can have with nieces and nephews. Photo shows a little girl riding piggyback on a woman's shoulders in a park. Both wear pale blue jeans and pink jackets.

You know how people get to talking about their kids and we have nothing to say because we don’t have any? Being an aunt or uncle can get you into the conversation with more fun and less angst. 

I suppose it’s like being grandparents, except you’re still young enough to be fun. 

I spent Thanksgiving with great-nieces and nephews who gave me plenty to talk about. Especially the oldest one. R. and I dressed for Thanksgiving dinner together, exchanging fashion tips. We played games. I was a customer at her pretend restaurant and a student in her pretend school. I let her try my guitar, and I listened to the song she made up. I was not the one telling her to brush her teeth, get dressed, or quiet down. We exchanged confidences and terrific hugs. Last summer, we were the ones who went swimming together while the grownups watched. I’m not ready to be one of the grownups. I’m the aunt. A long-distance one who doesn’t get to see them often enough, but an aunt nonetheless.

This trip, the younger kids were so busy playing with each other it was hard to get their attention, but still I could love and admire them and be amazed at all they had learned since the last time I saw them. I could brag about them. And soon I will go Christmas shopping for them because these kids give me a place in the world of children that I would otherwise miss.

When people talk about their grandchildren, I can talk about the nieces and nephews instead of just reverting to my own childhood or talking about dogs and cats. It feels good.

I told my brother how lucky he was to have this beautiful family. Bless his heart, he said, “Well, you’re part of it.”  

We are not all lucky enough to have siblings and nieces and nephews, biological or honorary. Sometimes being around other people’s kids painfully reminds us of the children we will never have. We may also feel awkward because we don’t have experience with young people unless we work with them as teachers, coaches or caregivers. It’s easier to avoid them, along with the adults who ask why, if you like kids so much, aren’t you having any?

You may not be able to relate to kids at this point in your childless life. The wound is too tender. Or maybe they just drive you nuts with their noise and unleashed energy. On my trip, I saw a family with three boys and a girl who jumped out of their car like they were shot out of a canon. As they headed into Applebee’s for lunch, I thought thank God I don’t have to deal with that. 

As the aunt, I can give them all a big hug and go off on my free adult way. But as they grow, they will become real people I can talk to and love and brag about as part of my family. Maybe they’ll even help me when I get old. Maybe not, but it’s possible. 

If you don’t have any siblings with children, it’s still possible to be an honorary aunt to your friends’ kids. You just have to show up with arms ready for hugging, ears ready for listening, and a heart ready to play. For the parents, you can be an extra set of hands, respite when they need a break, backup they can count on. 

If you’re not up to it, that’s okay. But if you are, grab the chance.  

Have you heard of The Savvy Auntie? Back in 2009, Melanie Notkin started an organization called The Savvy Auntie that has blossomed into books, blogs, merchandise, and all kinds of support for women without kids who embrace their aunt status. Check it out at SavvyAuntie.com.

Aunthood (and unclehood) is what you make it. You can have a close relationship, none at all, or something in-between. But at least it gives you something to talk about when people are going on about their children and grandchildren or when you’re Christmas shopping and want an excuse to hang out in the toy department. 

In literature, as in real life, there are good aunts and bad aunts (ditto for uncles). Auntie Em in “The Wizard of Oz” was nice enough. Who wouldn’t love Aunt Bea from the old “Andy Griffith Show?” But the aunt in Anne of Green Gables? She was mean. Let’s hope we’re the good kind, the aunts who love their nieces and nephews and can match any proud grandma’s stories with stories of their own. 

Further reading

Great Aunts of Literature | Book Riot

Aunts and Uncles in Literature: The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Evil

How about you? Are you an aunt or uncle? Do you enjoy it? Why or why not? I look forward to your comments. 

Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

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I will be participating in another Childless Elderwomen’s chat on Zoom on Sunday, Dec. 15, at noon Pacific time. Our topic is solo aging, and we have a bang-up panel of women you will love. If you register here, you can join us live or receive the recording afterward. This is a webinar, so you will not be seen or heard on screen.

I highly recommend Jody Day’s Substack post “The 3am bag lady blues.” She addresses that fear of growing old alone that many of us share.

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Holidays can be hard for those without kids

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , , , , , , ,

Thanksgiving is upon us again. Maybe, like me, you have already left home and are among the people with whom you’re going to celebrate the holiday. Maybe, like me, you will be seeing people you haven’t seen for a long time.

You may already be facing questions from friends and family that drive you crazy. “Hey, when are you going to have kids? “Don’t you want to have kids?” “Where are my grandkids?” “You’re looking a little chubby. Are you pregnant?” Or, if you are older like me, you hear, “Don’t bother Aunt Sue. She doesn’t do kids.”

Or maybe all the parents are clustered together talking about school and sports and other kid stuff while you feel totally left out.

You could spend the whole holiday sulking. But don’t. Just be honest with people. Don’t mutter to yourself or your partner. Tell people how you feel. “Mom, those questions really hurt.” “We are trying.” “No, we haven’t decided yet.” “My wife does not want to have children, and I have decided to support her in that.” “We’re having trouble getting pregnant.” “I just don’t want to talk about it.” “Please don’t say things like that; it hurts.”

It’s all right to admit, “It’s hard for me to be around your kids when I may never have any of my own” or to say, “I feel left out when you’re all talking about your kids.”

Tell the truth. If people don’t take it well, that’s their problem. If they love you, they will do their best to understand and support you. Maybe next time someone says something hurtful, a family member will say, “Hey, get off her back. She’s working on it.”

There’s always the option to skip the turkey feast and go eat burritos somewhere nobody knows you. Or stay home and watch Netflix. But why miss the good parts of the holiday? I know there are things you are thankful for. If you get to hang out with other people’s kids, enjoy them. If you like pumpkin pie, enjoy the pie.

Don’t silently fume and run off to cry in the bathroom. Share your burden. It will be lighter if you do.

I know there will be less than perfect moments. My niece’s kids haven’t seen me in so long they won’t know who I am. But I’ll just have to get to know them because I want to shower them with love and be a great Aunt Sue.

If you are grieving, think about a woman at my church who has suffered many losses, including the death of a daughter and her husband and the loss of her eyesight. She allows herself to cry for five minutes a day, then says, “Shirley, get on with it,” and moves on. Take your five minutes, then let it go for a while.

A few more suggestions:

  • Stay off social media. All those happy family photos will kill you.
  • Skip the holiday celebration if it’s really too much.
  • Volunteer to feed the hungry. Helping others helps you.
  • Fly off to another country that doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving.

I am thankful for you. Together, we can do this.

How are you dealing with Thanksgiving this year?

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