Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Childless readers help each other

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, Uncategorized , , , , , , , ,

Dear readers,

I love it when you start talking to each other in the comments. I feel like we’re building a real community for people who need to communicate with others who share similar problems without worrying about anybody in the outside world listening in.

My last post, Antidote to the Christmas blues, in which I admitted how bummed out I felt about the whole holiday season, attracted quite a few comments. You can click on the link to read them. These readers raise some interesting topics.

For example, how do you cope when your job requires you to be surrounded by mothers and babies all day long? Some readers find it unbearable while others say it gives them comfort and fills the emptiness inside. Do any of you have such jobs? How does it make you feel? Is it easier for childless people to stay away from children?

Then there’s the whole question of what we tell people about why we don’t have children. The questioning never ends, does it? The thing is, if you honestly tell friends and family that you don’t have kids because your partner doesn’t want them, it can backfire on you. People get mad at your partner, decide he/she’s no good, and maybe decide you’re an idiot for sticking around. “But wait, I love him/her,” you protest. They don’t care. Know what I mean? Anybody want to comment on this? What response can you give–without lying–that allows everyone to remain friends?

On April 8, I published a long comment by “Kam” about the frustrations of being a childless military wife. Yesterday I received an email from Lisa, who is also a childless military wife. She would really like to talk to Kam because they have a lot in common. Kam, if you are out there, email me at sufalick@gmail.com, and I will connect you with Lisa. Ditto for anyone else who wants to talk about the military life without kids.

How is your holiday season going? I’m doing pretty well. Christmas will be over in nine days. Then we can look forward to a whole new year. So try to enjoy the festivities. Thank you all for coming here. Keep in touch.

 

 

 

Antidotes to the Childless Christmas Blues

Sue Fagalde Lick Childless holidays, Uncategorized , , , , , , , ,

So, we’re drowning in Christmas. Even if you’re not Christian, it’s pretty hard to avoid the deluge of holiday music, TV specials, ads telling you to shop, shop, shop, and kids lining up in front of Santa to make their demands. The month is full of obligations. Send out cards; decorate; buy, wrap and send gifts; bake goodies for parties, gift exchanges, and bazaars; and do it all while the weather outside is just as frightful as it says in the song. Here in western Oregon, we’re underwater and getting battered by high winds, but the clock keeps ticking toward Dec. 25 anyway. I don’t know about you, but I just want to be teleported to another planet where it’s sunny and warm, and nobody gives a fig about Christmas.

What does all this have to do with being childless? I don’t know. Maybe that there’s no magic in the season without children, for whom all of this is new and exciting. Instead of a burden, it’s the most magical time of the year. Maybe Christmas shopping would be more fun if you were doing it for a child who will be ecstatic over his gift instead of aging adults who already have all the trinkets they can handle. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Yes, I have the Christmas blues. Too many rejections of my writing. Too many dark windy days with nothing to look forward to but a break in the rain to go outside to clean my gutters and pick up fallen branches. A sister-in-law who wants to stop exchanging gifts between me and her family. A step-great-granddaughter shown on Facebook praying to Santa, folded hands, amen and all, as if Santa were God. I can’t do anything to help her understand that there’s a real God and He isn’t Santa Claus because I have never met the child and probably never will. A wacko new priest who cancelled my singing with the kids at church tonight. The outside Christmas lights I was so proud of putting up not working now and I can’t figure out why. Daily pictures of my cousin with his wife and kids on a sunny beach in Mexico.

Maybe you feel the same way, but we have to find the light somewhere.  There’s this. My church, like many, puts out a holiday giving tree with tags for gifts desired by children and senior citizens who might not otherwise get any Christmas presents. Setting aside the whiny thought that my name should be on that tree because I may not get any presents, I perused the tags and chose an old lady named Gladys. I enjoyed shopping for Gladys yesterday. I avoided the kid tags because I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to buy. But next year, I think I should pick up a handful of them and adopt myself a family of poor children to shower with gifts the way I would my own if I had them. I’m not exactly overflowing with money, but if these children were mine, I would find the funds to make sure they had something good under the Christmas tree.

You can do that, too. Somebody somewhere is seeking gifts for poor families.

I think about my “Gramma” Rachel, who was actually my dad’s stepmother. His real mother died when I was a baby, so I don’t remember her. Rachel, who never had children of her own, was the only Fagalde grandmother I knew. She sent her seven step-grandchildren and four nieces and nephews packages of crazy gifts she had accumulated over the year: a sea shell, a book, a hair ornament, a coin purse, a cassette tape, a newspaper clipping with her favorite passages underlined. Not one thing advertised on TV or sold at Toys R Us, but all chosen with love and very little money. I loved these boxes, and I loved the fact that when she and Grandpa came for dinner on Christmas, Rachel went straight to us kids to see all our presents and talk about what was new in our lives. Mind you, our parents thought she was annoying and a little nuts, but we kids loved her, and I credit her with inspiring a lot of my writing and music today.

Rachel was married three times, but she never gave birth. I don’t know why. I never asked. By the time she married my grandfather, she was probably too old. But I didn’t think much about it because she was my grandma. I didn’t care about anything else.

Of course Rachel didn’t have to compete with a living mother and grandmother. She took over where Grandma Clara left off when she died at 58 of heart disease. But maybe somehow, some way, whether it’s through helping underprivileged people or showering young family members and stepchildren with special gifts, we can make this holiday season easier for them and for us.

There’s a way to make this time of year easier, if we look hard enough.

Okay, I feel better. Maybe I can make a wreath out of those fallen branches. After all, my home is surrounded by real Christmas trees.

How are you faring this holiday season? Please share in the comments.

Santa drops off a few early childless tidbits

Sue Fagalde Lick childess by marriage , , , , , ,

Dear friends,

Done with your Christmas shopping yet? Never mind. I haven’t even started. I just got home from Thanksgiving, and Christmas is coming at me like a freight train. But I’d rather talk to you.

Today I’m offering a collection of links to articles I think you will find interesting. Some may even make you feel good for a few minutes about not having children. Let me know what you think.

  1. Mothers Thought Less of Me Because I was a Childless Midwife

Interesting article about a midwife whose clients always asked, “Do you have children?” They often trusted her less when she said no.

2. The Childless Indian Woman Who Mothered Hundreds of Trees

This woman couldn’t have children, so she and her husband planted trees.

3. What All Moms Wish Their Best Friends Knew

Here’s a mom trying to reach out to her childless friend with some words of advice. Some might make you a little angry, but most make sense.

4. Childless Adults are Generally as Happy as Parents

Are they? Check out the statistics offered in this article.

 

 

 

Did you whine over your wine at Thanksgiving?

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , , , ,

Dear friends,

Last week, I advised you to reach out to other people to survive Thanksgiving. Offer an extra set of hands, I said. Talk to the teens and old people, I said. Do the dishes, I said. Don’t feel sorry for yourself, I said.

Easier said than done, isn’t it? I found myself wanting to weep over my turkey at one point. My father and I spent the holiday at my brother’s house with his in-laws. Everybody seemed to be obsessed with their children and grandchildren, except my niece, who is treating her dog as her child. I looked around and saw no one I could relate to except the three dogs that were there. I missed my husband. I missed my mother. I felt alone in the crowd.

Oh, yes, I admit it. I felt sorry for myself, even though I knew I was not the only widow in the room. My sister-in-law’s cousin lost her husband right after Christmas last year. The last family event he attended was Thanksgiving at my brother’s house. She had a lot more right to feel sorry for herself than I did. But all day, I watched her holding one of her four young grandchildren  and thought, wow, she’s surrounded by family, and I’ve got  a brother and father who are busy arguing finance with the other men while the football game plays on the big-screen TV.

At one point, I went outside where the big dogs were corralled. “Guys, I have nobody to talk to,” I whined. They replied, “Did you bring us any turkey? Can you let us out to play?”

Eventually, things got better. I talked to a young man who was the son of a cousin I had not met before. He’s newly in love, very happy in his life in California. And he actually asked me about my life and work. I made a new friend and it felt good. I talked with my sister-in-law’s aunt and uncle. I snuggled with my niece’s “chi-weiner” dog, who does indeed feel like a baby, especially wrapped in her pink “hoodie.”

I survived the hard moment. The baby got on a crying jag, the older kids got cranky and rude, and I was fine with them not being mine. I didn’t find out until the next day that the mother/grandmother/new widow was never able to have children of her own. She has one stepson who feels like her own, and the other three were foster kids whom she adopted. Some of those kids have had very troubled lives. It was not at all the fairy tale story I thought it was. She worked hard to get those kids, and she also has worked hard to build a successful career. And now when her kids go off to their own homes, she’s as alone as I am. Something to think about.

The day before Thanksgiving, I met my cousin’s one-year-old daughter, who is adorable. I think she decided she liked me. Interacting with her was fun. The house looked like a bomb exploded in it, and the child, who recently learned to walk, was constantly having to be chased and captured. Did I long to have a child just like her? I did. But then I looked at my other cousin’s hulking, sullen teenagers and thought . . . maybe it’s okay.

The day after Thanksgiving, my nephew arrived at my brother’s house with his pregnant fiancée and her two daughters, plus another dog. It was loud and chaotic. Dogs barking, multiple conversations, little girls needing attention. My father and I were both glad to get away from the commotion to the peace and quiet of his all-adult, no-dog house, where we could share tea and pastries and talk trash about everybody else.

One more note from my Thanksgiving. My sister-in-law’s uncle thinks I’m my 93-year-old father’s sister. I could not convince him otherwise. How’s that for an ego boost? Last Thanksgiving, a waitress at my brother’s favorite restaurant thought I was Dad’s wife. Either Dad looks very young for his age—he does—or . . . never mind.

I got propositioned online last night by a man who told me I was beautiful. I think it was a robo-email, not written by an actual person, but it’s nice to hear. He was very handsome. He said he didn’t have any kids. What’s the story behind that?

So that’s how it went for me. How did Thanksgiving go for you? Please tell us in the comments. We can all whine together here, then figure out how to grow up and get past it.

 

Offer an Extra Set of Hands on Thanksgiving

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , ,

Holidays can bring on the blues for those of us who want children and don’t have them,  but let’s all try to think of it as an opportunity instead.

You can be the cool aunt to the teen whose parents are too busy to hang out. You can run the errand that’s difficult for parents tied down with kids–or you can care for the kids while they get things done. You can nip off to do the dishes, or you can help the old folks. You can put on an apron and help with the food, relax with the guys watching the game, or go for a walk and talk with a loved one. You can be the one who has time to play with Barbie or play Monopoly. I’m sure you can think of more ideas.

Envy and regret are not terribly useful. Being busy gives you less time to feel sorry for yourself–or mad at the world for your situation.

So, count your blessings. Your arms may feel empty, but you can use them. If you’ll try it, so will I. Let us know in the comments how it works out.

 

Grumping into the holidays again

Sue Fagalde Lick childless during the holidays, Uncategorized , , , , , , ,

I’m in a bad mood. Maybe it’s all the gray, rainy days we’ve been having here on the Oregon coast. I like the sun, and I get bummed when I can’t feel it shining on me. But it’s also  being alone. There are times when I like it, but today, not so much. Before breakfast, I had to get down on the floor and clean out the pellet stove that heats our house because I waited too long and it quit working. Again. The whole time, I was thinking about how my husband used to take care of things like this. He was good that way. He kept the car running. Cleaned out the gutters. Maintained the yard. Watched over the dog when I had to go out of town.

He was good for a lot more than chores, of course. He was a friend, companion, and partner for all the good and bad things in life. And now that I’m going into the holidays without him again, I just want to fast forward into January.

I’ve been thinking about how things might be different if I had children. I suspect I’d still be alone a lot. If I had had children in my 30s, they would be adults by now, maybe with their own kids. They might live far away. They would certainly be busy with their own lives. They would not be here cleaning out the stove at 7 a.m.

If I did have children, maybe I wouldn’t have to drive 800 miles to my brother’s house to see family at Thanksgiving. I would never have left California if I had children living there. Maybe everybody would come to my house. I would love to sit at a big table surrounded by my family like my mother did year after year. Not gonna happen.

This year my nephew will be bringing his new stepdaughters and his pregnant wife. I’m happy for them and for my brother and his wife, who are becoming grandparents. I won’t be the only one without a husband, but the others have kids. I don’t have either one.

I should be cheering you on, saying it’s okay, be thankful for what you have. Yes, we should all try to do that. I know my life is full of blessings. I will be with my father, who’s still going at 93. How amazing is that? I have a home, car, enough money to get by, relatively good health, work I love, and good friends. I have my dog. I have an aged pellet stove that is pouring out warmth right now.

But here’s my point. Readers keep commenting about how they don’t know what to choose, the partner or the children they might have with somebody else. I’ve got to tell you I’d forgo the offspring in a heartbeat to have my husband back again. Not just to clean out the pellet stove but to share life, to make decisions together, to snuggle together on a cold night, to sing all the way to San Jose, and whisper wisecracks about the family between football games. What’s right for me might not be right for you, but think hard before you bail out of an otherwise good relationship.

My dear friends, holidays are hard. Kids, kids, kids in our faces everywhere. But we will survive. Here’s my prescription for you. First, go ahead and rant about all the things that you hate about being childless during the holidays. Write it down, post it in a comment if you want. Then, I want you to make a list of all the things you have to be thankful for because you do have them. And if you have a partner you love, just give him or her a big hug and tell them you love them. Okay?

I may or may not get the blog done next week. Dad doesn’t have WiFi. Like I said, he’s 93. But I’ll try to keep up with your comments. Thank you for being here.

 

 

 

Will You Regret Not Having Children?

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

A word that keeps coming up here at the Childless by Marriage blog is “regret.” Different dictionaries explain it in different words, but regret is basically a feeling of sorrow or disappointment for things you did in the past, decisions you made, or roads not taken. Readers trying to decide what to do about their situation worry about whether they will regret their choices later. If they agree not to have children, will they regret it? If they have children when they don’t want them, will they regret it? If they leave their partner in the hope of finding someone who wants children, will they regret it? If I knew the answers to these questions, I’d be a fortuneteller instead of a writer.

Regret. Suddenly I’m hearing Frank Sinatra sing, “Regrets I’ve had a few, but then again too few to mention . . . I did it my way.”

Well, I guess I did. Maybe you did, too. Are there choices in my life I regret? You bet. Jobs I wish I hadn’t taken, things I wish I hadn’t said, guys I wish I hadn’t dated. But I don’t regret the big choices I made, even my first marriage, which wasn’t ideal. I loved the man, we had some wonderful experiences, and I cherish the good memories. If I had waited for somebody else, I might have a husband, kids, grandkids, and the perfect house now, but I don’t know that that would have happened. I might have been alone.

I don’t regret marrying Fred, even though we didn’t have children together. He was the nicest person I ever met, he loved me like every girl wants to be loved, and we had a great life together. In death, he left me with a home and steady income. I wish I had some kids, but I had a lot of other things, including my husband’s children.

The other big decision was moving to Oregon. I have been homesick for 19 years, but living here has given me so many opportunities that I wouldn’t have gotten if we had stayed in San Jose. Would I trade the books I’ve been written, the music I’ve played here, the friends I’ve met, or my life in the woods for a more conventional life in smoggy suburbia with husband and kids? I’m not sure I would.

Every decision brings both good and bad. In the end, I believe things turn out the way they’re supposed to, whether it’s God’s plan, the way of the Universe, or whatever you want to call it. With every choice, you gain something, but you also have to let something go.

You’re 20 or 30 or 40 now. When you’re 80, will you regret not having children? Will you wish with every fiber of your being that you had made a different choice? I don’t know. All you can do is make a decision based on what you know now and follow where it leads.

Here are a few things you can read. This article from Psychology Today, “Getting Past Your Regrets,” offers some very good advice to help us move on after choices we regret.

An article in Forbes lists “The 25 Biggest Regrets in Life.” Note that several of them have to do with the kids the writer assumes everybody has. Hello? Some of us don’t have children.

On the other hand, here are a bunch of great quotes about regret that most of us can relate to. I like this one from Queen Latifah: “I made decisions that I regret, and I took them as learning experiences . . . I’m human, not perfect, like anybody else.”

I do not regret visiting with you, my friends. Thank you for being here and for your comments.

Dumped because she wanted her own children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage , , , , ,

Dear friends, I’m still getting lots of comments at the old Childless by Marriage site. I’m trying to herd them over here, but I don’t want anyone to miss anything, so I’m sharing this exchange from yesterday. Anonymous needs some advice. Please feel free to add your thoughts in the comments.

Anonymous said:

God, it’s been very comforting reading all the posts. The one thing that appears clear to me is we are scared if we leave we will never fall in love again. I’ve just been dumped and I’m brokenhearted, as I truly was with the most amazing guy. He had two teenage kids from a failed marriage over 10 years ago. I’m 38, he is 44, and on our first date, because I knew he had kids, I asked if he was open to having more, which he answered straightaway. A few months in, he had a bit if a panic attack and said he didn’t want any more children and needs to concentrate on the kids he has. He is dealing with a lot of guilt over his kids because he left. I think he feels he failed them and therefore doesn’t want to bring any more kids into this world but knows I deserve to be a mum. I am truly heartbroken, as we had an amazing relationship and deep down I know he doesn’t want it to finish but had to be honest and true to me. I don’t know if I do or don’t want kids, but I would like to have the choice,and if I do, in the next few years. I’m so scared if being on my own and what if I never meet someone, would my ex take me back if I said I gave up on the chance of having kids? I love him so much, but I know he had to be honest. I’m still questioning. Is he honest though and is it the guilt that he has over his two kids stopping him? Funny thing is they will be all grown up soon and won’t need him. He knows he will never meet anyone like me. It’s just so hard.

I replied: Anonymous, I’m sorry this has happened to you. Nobody really knows what will happen in the future. You might meet someone even better, you might not. Keep the lines of communication open with this guy. Maybe it’s not over yet. I hope things work out for you.

Anonymous wrote back:

Thank you, Sue, for your kind reply. I feel lost without him, but I guess it’s not our time right now and I’m very scared of being alone. He is such a wonderful guy, and I feel that the guilt has him torn inside. I thought I could help him deal with his demons from his past relationship, but I should have known better, he can only help himself. Sometimes I wonder would a baby be the making of him as he is a great dad to his kids when they allow him (teenagers!!)
Should I not contact him and let him be for now?

I replied:

Anon, I’d let him be for a while, but it would be okay once in a while to call to see how he is and how the kids are doing. After all, you were a family. But take some time to take care of yourself, too.

So, what do you think? Does this spark thoughts of your own situation? I look forward to hearing from you.

Sue

Childless? You are not alone

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , , , , , ,

NM wrote last week:

I just found your blog tonight for the first time because my grief blindsided me this evening. I was having a pretty good day then saw something on TV and out of nowhere BAM! I was looking online for anything that would let me know this will someday pass, that I will eventually ‘get over it’. I spent a long time reading your posts and the many precious yet painful responses. I had no idea this was such a widespread issue for so many, women and men alike.

Lara wrote earlier this month:

I love the honesty of this post; I love to read somebody else say what I am feeling; I am grateful to not feel like I am a bitter self centered b!+@# for what I am feeling/thinking simply by seeing someone understands it.

Candy wrote:

I have good days and not so good days… Today is a not so good day…. 😦

Thanks for letting me share here…. there is no one on the planet that I share this crap with.

And Dawnsey wrote:

From the depths of my heart, “THANK YOU” for starting this blog. Just being able to tell my story, without those who actually know me knowing my story, has helped relieve some pressure I’ve been holding inside.

This was all in October. I’m not sharing these quotes to give myself a pat on the back. It’s to show that we all think we’re alone in our childless dramas. These quotes are from women, but I get them from men, too. We feel like we can’t talk openly about it with our partners, parents or friends because they all jump on us with their own agendas. “I love you, but . . . ” “When are you going to give me grandchildren?” “Oh, just adopt.” “You’re lucky you aren’t tied down by kids.” Right? Or we’re afraid to mess up our relationships by being honest about how we feel. I know. I used to do my crying in the garage or the car, anyplace my husband wouldn’t hear me. I have never told my dad about my book or this blog.

I’m always coming across something that smacks me in the head with the realization that I’m different, that I didn’t have kids, don’t have grandkids, don’t have anybody to take care of me if I get Alzheimer’s like my husband did, will never have someone call to say, “Hi Mom, how are you?” And this week is Halloween, which has become such a child-oriented holiday. We get to endure the commercials, TV shows, parties and endless chatter about kids’ costumes. Yes, we can dress up, we can give out–or eat–lots of candy, but it’s not the same. And the rest of the world doesn’t get it.

But we do. And that’s why I keep this blog going. You can talk about your stuff here, and we get it. You can be anonymous. Nobody has to know who you are. Just say it. I love it when you respond to each other. We begin to feel like a community.

You are definitely not alone. The U.S. Census reported earlier this year that 47.6 percent of women aged 15 to 44 were without children in 2014. Around 18.5 percent of women 35 to 39 didn’t have children. They explained this by a trend toward delaying childbirth until fertility becomes iffy, conflicts between work and family, and more Americans choosing not to have children. The official report says nothing about the main reason we’re seeing here at Childless by Marriage, which is partners who are unable or unwilling to have children with you, often because they already had them with somebody else. I suppose that’s not on the census questionnaire, but it’s a big issue here.

I started today’s blog with nothing to say, and now I feel like there’s so much more, but this is enough to chew on for now. Keep those comments coming, read what other folks are writing in their comments, and know that you are not alone. You might be the only one in your family or among the people you hang out with, but there are lots of others going through the same thing. Including me. Thank you for being here.

How do you answer those nosy questions about babies?

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

A Facebook rant by Emily Bingham  about people who ask her when she’s going to have a baby went viral last month. She wants all those who keep asking to know, “It’s none of your business.” Read all about it here.

We’ve all heard the questions. The second you get married, people want to know when you’re going to have a baby. If you’re pushing 30, they start warning that you’re running out of time. Your parents rag on you about giving them grandchildren. Well-meaning friends who have children urge you to get busy and start making babies so you can raise them together. These days, even if you’re single, people may encourage you to adopt or get pregnant with a donor.

But Bingham is right. It’s none of their freaking business.

The questions don’t stop after you reach menopause. People assume that you, like most folks, have children. They want to know how many, how old, where do they live, are you a grandparent yet, etc. Yes, I’m sorry, but it never stops.

The worst time for these questions is when you’re still trying to figure it all out. As Bingham writes, you may be struggling with infertility, having marital problems, or aren’t sure whether you both want children. Just asking the question may trigger a wave of grief or anger.

And how do you answer? Have you ever said, “That’s none of your business?” Or do you dodge around the question. “Well, we aren’t quite ready yet.” Do you blame your partner? “I want kids, but Joe says he doesn’t.” Do you make a joke, maybe saying, “We’ve decided dogs are easier.”

In my fertile days, I used the “not ready” answer for a long time. Sometimes I implied that I had health problems. Sometimes I blamed my lousy husband for not wanting kids. Now that it’s a done deal, I have better answers. With my churchy friends, I can say, “God had other plans for me.” With others, I answer honestly, then change the subject. “Nope. No kids. So, you have four, huh?”

Some people claim their pets as children. Some say they’re too busy to have kids. Some say they don’t have room in their lives for both their work and children. And of course there’s the “childfree” crowd who proudly state that they never wanted children.

But how many of us say, “You know, that’s kind of private. Let’s talk about something else.” Or, “That’s none of your damned business.”

What do you say when people start getting nosy? One of the people I interviewed for my book, when asked why she didn’t have children, answered, “Because I’ve seen yours.” Let’s build a list of good comebacks in the comments.