Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Maybe It’s Time to Reassess

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage , , , , ,

Six people I know have died in the last month. Six! None were family members, thank God, but still, they were people I knew and cared about. Also, my cousin gave birth to twins. Plus, I’ve got a new boss who is, how shall I put it, insane. And my neighbor has a new rooster who never stops crowing. All since July 1. What a month. Makes a girl think and reassess.

I’ve been whining a lot lately about being alone and childless. I won’t lie. It’s hard sometimes. Saturday, when I arrived at a funeral that was not held at my own church, I found myself alone in a sea of families. And when the folks in front of me told me all about their children and grandchildren, I felt awful. So alone. I went home and cried and only partly for my neighbor who died. But part of that is my own fault for being too shy to introduce myself to strangers and make them friends. I’d rather feel sorry for myself. My friend Pat talks to everyone. Within five minutes, she has new friends, so she’s never alone. Yes, she has children, but they all live far away. She has a husband, but he’s currently disabled and can’t do things with her. Her own health isn’t great. We’ve all got problems.

But you know what we also have? Blessings. One day last week when I just couldn’t face my work anymore, I got in my car and drove to the beach. I hung out on the sand until lunchtime, then treated myself to an expensive lunch at a posh restaurant with a fabulous view. Later I went shopping, and I drove down some roads I’d never tried before. I did not have to arrange childcare or consult with any other human being. I just went, and it was great.

I watched 13 episodes of “Orange is the New Black” in one week last month. I’m not sure that’s good for anybody’s brain, but again, no one to consult, no child or husband to feed, nobody whining that they wanted to watch something else.

My dog Annie and I walk almost every day through the woods or on the beach. Between us we have six good legs and we’re healthy. That, my friends, is a blessing.

I eat three delicious meals a day and have money left over. I am so lucky.

Many of you have partners whom you love. You might be making each other crazy over the baby issue, but stop for a minute. Set that aside. What do you love about this person? What does he or she give you? Sex? Love? Support? A hand to hold when you’re scared? That’s something a lot of people don’t have.

Do you have a home? Your health? Parents? Siblings? Cousins? Friends? Pets?

Do you have work that you enjoy?

I know. This baby thing has you all tied up in knots. You worry about the future. Will you regret not having children? Will you end up alone? Will your relationship last? Should you leave? Should you stay? It’s hard.

But today, right now, count your blessings. Life is short, and we never know when it will end. My fingers are getting tired of playing funeral songs. But I’m grateful that those fingers can still dance on the piano keys and I can still sing.

How about you? Perhaps you don’t have babies of your own, but what DO you have?

Who will plan my funeral and other childless worries

Sue Fagalde Lick alone without children, childless by marriage , , , , ,

I’m having random thoughts about childlessness on this warm summer evening. I live on the Oregon Coast and tourists are visiting here from all over the U.S. and Canada. I’m seeing a lot of kids and grandkids, big family groups gathering at the beach or local restaurants while I show up with my dog or alone. My friends are enjoying visits from their children and grandchildren or heading out of town to visit them at their homes. It’s the kids, kids, kids channel all day long. Part of me is relieved not to have to deal with the needs of a little one, but part of me just aches over the loss, especially of the adult children I could have to hug, help, and hang out with.

I sang at a funeral on Saturday for a woman just a few years older than me who died of cancer. The church was packed. I didn’t know her, but she was active in the community and had lots of friends. But she also had a big family. Daughters, sons, their spouses, and their children filled the first few rows, and several of them came forward to speak through their tears about “mom” and “grandma.” I should have been thinking about the woman who died and sympathizing with her family, but all I could think is “who’s going to be at my funeral”? Who will organize it? Who will come? When my husband died, we had six family members, including me, but his friends filled the chapel. I pray that will happen for me, too, but what if it doesn’t? I know I shouldn’t worry about these things, but I do.

An 89-year-old friend of mine also died recently. He had no children. His wife had one son from her previous marriage. That son showed up to help, but they argued so much he went home early. The wife is not planning to have a funeral for her husband. It gets worse. She’s legally blind. There’s no way she can live alone, so I’m not sure what she’s going to do. Fortunately, there are several of us who love her like daughters. We will help as much as we can.

Now that you’re totally depressed, let me cheer you up with a comment that I received recently on my post about why a person might not want to have children. You probably won’t see the comment on the WordPress version of this blog as I transition from one blog host to the other.

On July 21, Anonymous wrote:

I was lucky enough to fall in love in my mid-twenties with a man who, like me, was somewhat leaning against having children. I was pretty sure I didn’t want children, having had, since childhood, a feeling that motherhood probably wasn’t for me. But after we married, I wanted to wait a few years before making a final decision to see if my feelings, or his, would change. They didn’t. What happened next was a series of vivid dreams in which I would inexplicably find myself six or seven months pregnant, too late to change my mind, horrified and terrified, and trying desperately to convince myself that having a baby would be okay while knowing it would not. At least twice I woke up clutching my belly. Husband and self are now in our sixties, happily married and childless. I know that by not having children, we gave up some wonderful things. And I know my sisters will have the support of their children as they age, and I won’t have that special kind of support. But I remain convinced that I made the right decision for me, and my husband feels the same way. My childhood was happy, my mother is warm and wonderful, and I really can’t explain why I knew I didn’t want to become a mother while my sisters wanted to be, and are, great mothers. I do know that especially after those dreams, anyone who might have tried to persuade me to have a baby would not have been successful. To the list of reasons why some people don’t want children, I’d have to add “Unexplainable but extremely strong gut-level knowledge that having children would be a huge mistake.”

Feel better?

I welcome your comments.

“Honey, I changed my mind about having kids”

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage , , , ,

In Carolyn Hax’s July 20 advice column, a reader asks what a lot of folks ask here. She and her husband originally agreed not to have children. Now she’s having second thoughts. She has a whole script worked out to discuss this with her guy, hoping maybe he has changed his mind, too, but what if he says he still doesn’t want kids?

Hax asks the reader if she can accept it if her husband sticks to his no-kids decision. She offers comments from other readers who have experienced this situation. And one of them mentions this blog. Whoever you are, thank you. Tell your friends.

So, people do change their minds. They think they’re okay with not having children, but then everyone around them is having babies, they are aware that they’re running out of time, or they realize they agreed to a childless marriage just to keep the relationship going. Maybe they thought stepchildren would fill the space where their own children would be, but they don’t. Am I ringing any bells for people?

Maybe you’re not the one changing your mind. Maybe it’s your partner, who suddenly says he wants kids or that he (or she) has decided he does not want them. He/she cites money, freedom, jobs, age, bla bla bla.

Where once you thought you agreed on this huge decision, you don’t anymore. You had an agreement. You knew what you wanted and were living your life counting on that agreement staying the same. Now what do you do? Do you leave? Do you urge your partner to leave? Do you get counseling to help you accept the unacceptable? This is the heart of the whole childless by marriage concept.

As longtime readers know, this is what happened to me. I stayed. I didn’t have children. I cried where my husband couldn’t see me. I wrote a book about it. He didn’t change his mind. Now I’m a childless widow living with my dog. It’s not as tragic as it sounds. I have a good life, but I still wish I had found a way to become a mother and grandmother and great-grandmother.

I want to share some comments posted at my old Blogger site that you might not otherwise see:

On July 20, Anonymous said…

In my fourth year of marriage, during marriage counseling, my husband told me he never wanted me to have children because of my autoimmune disease. I divorced him because we had agreed on children, we had picked out names. One unsuccessful relationship after another led to me missing my window. I never did get to have a child. But I have a stepson who lost his mother at a young age. We love each other so much. Jumping in as a parent of a teenager is very hard. But to hear him wish me my first happy Mother’s Day was priceless, absolutely priceless. My ex has been married twice after me, and he plans on having children. Sometimes I hate him for what he did to me. But now I have my wonderful stepson whom I never would have met if it wasn’t for my ex. My husband now is pretty awesome, too. I love my boys like crazy. So, happy ending!

Yesterday, Anonymous commented:

I feel like I am the only woman in the world who started out not wanting children, grew to change my mind, and had my husband on several occasions scream at me that I can’t change my mind. He expects me to be around and support all of his friends’ families and every time, I die a little more inside. I am scared for my future, aging, lonely, and just sad I married someone like this.

On July 21, another Anonymous wrote:

I was lucky enough to fall in love in my mid-twenties with a man who, like me, was somewhat leaning against having children. I was pretty sure I didn’t want children, having had, since childhood, a feeling that motherhood probably wasn’t for me. But after we married, I wanted to wait a few years before making a final decision to see if my feelings, or his, would change. They didn’t. What happened next was a series of vivid dreams in which I would inexplicably find myself six or seven months pregnant, too late to change my mind, horrified and terrified, and trying desperately to convince myself that having a baby would be okay while knowing it would not. At least twice I woke up clutching my belly. Husband and self are now in our sixties, happily married and childless. I know that by not having children, we gave up some wonderful things. And I know my sisters will have the support of their children as they age, and I won’t have that special kind of support. But I remain convinced that I made the right decision for me, and my husband feels the same way. My childhood was happy, my mother is warm and wonderful, and I really can’t explain why I knew I didn’t want to become a mother while my sisters wanted to be, and are, great mothers. I do know that especially after those dreams, anyone who might have tried to persuade me to have a baby would not have been successful. To the list of reasons why some people don’t want children, I’d have to add “Unexplainable but extremely strong gut-level knowledge that having children would be a huge mistake.”

Everybody’s different. I thank you all for your comments. Keep them coming. This is one of the few places we can discuss this stuff without judgment, and I appreciate every one of you.

***

I apologize for not posting yesterday, my usual day. I work as a music director at our local Catholic church, and we have a new pastor whose changes kept us occupied and mind-blown all day. Basically, he thinks this is a cathedral, not a little coastal church, and he thinks it’s 1950, not 2015. Think Gregorian chant. In Latin. Last Sunday, he gave a little speech on the importance of family that let me know he’s going to make it hard on us childless folks because we failed to reproduce. I can’t wait for Mother’s Day. (Don’t share this blog with him! I need my job. :-))

Why Wouldn’t He/She Want to Have Children?

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

Here at Childless by Marriage, one reader after another reports the same problem: One partner wants kids and the other does not. Period. End of discussion. If infertility is an issue, there are ways to work around it, such as in vitro, surrogates, donors, or adoption, but no. They don’t want to talk about it. I always encourage readers to keep the conversation going, but I had a tight-lipped first husband who wouldn’t discuss it either, so I understand if you keep running into a dead end.

Why are some people so sure they don’t want children? Let’s look at possible reasons:

  1. ·They hate children–Kids are needy, whiny and sticky.
  2.  Money–Raising children is too darned expensive.
  3. Conflicts with existing kids–They already have children from a previous relationship. Between child support, dealing with the ex and taking care of these kids, they can’t imagine bringing more children into their lives.
  4. Fear–of pain, conflicts, cost, life changes, and passing on physical or emotional problems.
  5. Age—They don’t want to be the oldest parent on the soccer field.
  6. Career—Having kids will totally screw it up.
  7. Freedom—They want to do whatever they please whenever they please.
  8. Marriage—Will having children ruin their relationship? Will the wife focus all her attention on the kids? Will they fight over how to raise them? Will they never have sex again?
  9. Inadequacy—They’d be a lousy father or mother.
  10. Responsibility—Don’t want it.
  11. Overpopulation—The world has too many people already.
  12. Messed up world—Why subject a child to wars, terrorism, climate change and a culture gone to hell?

Do any of these sound familiar? Can you add anything to the list? Do you think it’s possible to change their minds? I look forward to reading your comments.

For a little while on Fourth of July, I was not childless

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized

On Fourth of July, I was walking the dog down a nearby street when this boy came out just past where someone had chalked “party” on the pavement with an arrow. There was no party now, just this kid about 10 years old with nothing to do. I had seen him before, remembered an awkward conversation about his missing model plane. He’s a loner, geeky with thick black glasses, possibly autistic. He has two sisters who are busy with their own lives, but I’m pretty sure he’s the only boy on the block.

Without asking, he joined us for our walk down the paved street on our way to the wilderness trail beyond. His speech was slow, coming in spurts, worked around his crooked front teeth. “Going for a walk, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He dodged nervously as Annie darted over to sniff him. “She’s big.”

“She is. But she won’t hurt you.”

“Is she gonna have puppies?”

I stared at him. What? “No. She’s been spayed. She had an operation. And she’s too old now anyway.” Suddenly the whole idea of taking away a dog’s ability to reproduce seemed ludicrous. Why would we do that? But he didn’t ask. He just said, “Oh.”

Annie paused to sniff a grass area where all the neighborhood dogs stopped to relieve themselves. The boy paused, too, then went on with us. It was nice having him along. I had been feeling especially lonely, this being another holiday I was spending by myself, my family too far away and my friends too busy with their kids and grandkids.

“Is it just you and her?” the boy asked.

I swallowed. How did he know? “Yes.”

“Oh.” No judgments. No “where is your husband?” or “why don’t you have kids?” He’s alone, I’m alone, just fact. He reached out shyly to pet Annie’s thick yellow fur.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Gavin.”

“Nice name.”

We walked on, Annie stopping between houses to pee.

“I know where there’s a trail.”

“Oh. I do, too.”

“I’ll run up ahead and show you.” He took off, streaking toward the end of the street to where the wild berries and Scotch broom have grown so thick you have to look hard to find the path.

“Is this your trail?”

“Yes. That’s it.”

He hesitated. “I’m not allowed to go past the end of the street.”

And with that we said goodbye. I heard Gavin’s shoes slapping the pavement as he ran home while Annie and I went on along the trail marked with the footprints of deer, dogs and tennis shoes, feeling much less lonely.

My dear childless friends, there are children who would love to hang out with you if you let them. Don’t give up.

*********

The transfer of this blog to my new WordPress site is coming along. If you’re reading this at childlessbymarriageblog.com, you might notice that all of the old posts back to 2007 are here now, along with the comments. The formatting is a little funky. I’ll have to work on that, but this new site is going to be great. Remember, I will be posting on both old and new during July and early August, but as of Aug. 26, new comments will only be posted on the new site, so subscribe or click “follow” so you don’t miss a single post or comment. For those who have already signed up, thank you. Every one of you is precious to me.

Welcome to the Childless by Marriage Blog

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

Dear friends,

Childless by Marriage is a blog, a book and a Facebook page for those of us who do not have children because our partners were unable or unwilling to have children with us. Some are infertile. Many already have children from a previous relationship and don’t want any more. Others just don’t want children. In a world of people whose lives revolve around their children and grandchildren, we feel left out and alone. But not here. We’re all in the same situation.

Note that this is not a “childfree” site for those people who never wanted kids and are perfectly happy without them. We are “childless.” There’s a difference.

For those of you visiting for the first time, this is not a new blog. It’s an old blog on a new site, and I’m excited to share it with you. The new WordPress site will offer features I couldn’t get at my old blog host. I already have two other blogs at WordPress, Unleashed in Oregon and Writer Aid, so I know it will work out well.

Next month, I will have been doing the Childless by Marriage blog for eight years. My first post was published on Aug. 27, 2007. Unbelievable. Eight years. If all works smoothly, the previous posts and comments from this blog will be transferred to the new site. But I’m still working on it, and I don’t want to take any chances, so until Aug. 26, 2015, I will publish the same posts at both sites.

I started the Childless by Marriage blog before I finished the Childless by Marriage book, which came out in 2012. So many people had contacted me and visited the “Childless resources” page on my web site that it seemed like a conversation that was dying to happen. People couldn’t wait until I got the book between covers. Plus I had things I wanted to share that wouldn’t fit into a book or an article. It needed to be a conversation.

Here’s my situation:

I was married twice. Husband number one didn’t want children, although he didn’t tell me that until a few years in. It was always wait till he finishes college, wait till he gets a good job, wait till we buy a house. Then there came a time when I thought I might be pregnant, and his tune changed to: if you have a baby, I’m leaving. Ouch. I wasn’t pregnant, but the marriage didn’t work out anyway.

Husband number two, a wonderful older man who already had three children, didn’t want any more kids. He had had a vasectomy. I thought he might change his mind, but he didn’t. Four years ago, he died of Alzheimer’s Disease. So now I have reached menopause with no husband, no kids of my own and three stepchildren I’m not close to. I live alone on the Oregon coast with my dog Annie. I regret not having children, but at the same time, I know that I have done a lot of things in my life that I could not have done if I were a mother.

So that’s the deal. Missed my chance, but maybe that’s what God had in mind for me. Or maybe I really screwed up.

Of course I want to sell my books and draw attention to my writing through my blogs and other activities. That’s why most of us start blogs in the first place, but you, my readers, have become precious to me, and I’m happy to be here as your big sister or Aunt Sue to try to answer your questions and listen to what you need to say. Most of you comment as “Anonymous.” That’s fine. Call yourself anything you want. I’m glad I can provide a private space to say what we might not be able to say anywhere else. I feel like I know you anyway.

I’d like to make this blog more interactive, maybe add some guest posts, feature more of you in the main blog. I welcome your suggestions. Meanwhile, I’m here fussing with the widgets and looking forward to your comments.

Hugs,

Sue

D

Get Some Boxes–Childless by Marriage is Moving

Sue Fagalde Lick anonymous comments, blog moving, childless, Childless by Marriage blog, Childless by Marriage book, Unleashed in Oregon, widow, wordpress.com, Writer Aid


Dear friends,
Next month, I will have been doing the Childless by Marriage blog for eight years. My first post was published on Aug. 27, 2007. Unbelievable. Eight years. Don’t panic. I have no intention of stopping. But I am working on moving the blog to a new site at WordPress.com. The address will be http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. The new site will offer features I can’t get with a “Blogspot” blog and increase our community of childless-by-marriage friends. I already have two other blogs at WordPress, Unleashed in Oregon and Writer Aid. If all works smoothly, the previous posts and comments from this blog will be transferred to the new site. But I don’t want to take any chances, so until Aug. 26, 2015, I will publish the same posts at both sites.
I started the Childless by Marriage blog before I finished the Childless by Marriage book, which came out in 2012. To be honest, the blog has been more successful than the book. At the heart of it is your comments, so much heartfelt sharing of joys, sorrows, successes, and mistakes. You offer comfort to me and to one another. This has become a conversation, not just me talking into cyberspace.
You have been with me through my own pain and loss, including the death of my husband from Alzheimer’s Disease in 2011. You have supported me as I adapt to my new status as a widow, a new age group, and a new life on my own without the usual kids and grandkids to support me.
Of course I want to sell my books and draw attention to my writing through my blogs and other activities. That’s why most of us start blogs in the first place, but you have become precious to me, and I’m happy to be here as your big sister or Aunt Sue to listen to what you need to say. Most of you comment as “Anonymous.” That’s fine. I’m glad I can provide a private space to say what we might not be able to say anywhere else. I feel like I know you anyway.
I’d like to make this blog more interactive, maybe add some guest posts, feature more of you in the main blog. I welcome your suggestions. Meanwhile, I’m here. I may be moving, but I’m taking you with me.
Hugs,
Sue

When hormones outtalk common sense

Sue Fagalde Lick burning bridges, commitments, falling in love, Kaitlin and Nick, lust, men who don't want children, Regrets, relationships, The Bachelorette

I’ve been thinking about Monday’s “Bachelorette” TV show. Did you see it? Kaitlyn, the bachelorette, and Nick, one of her suitors, made out all over Dublin, even in a church. It was embarrassing to watch. I kept yelling at the screen, “Nick get your hands out of her dress!” but he didn’t hear me. Then they went back to her hotel suite and had sex. We didn’t see it, but we heard the sound effects, and it was all over the news on Tuesday. Shooting in Charleston, Kaitlyn does Nick. It could all have been staged, but clearly those two were in that zone where common sense goes out the window. I’ve been there. Have you?

In her voiceovers, Kaitlin kept saying that when she gets together with Nick, she forgets the cameras, the other guys and everything else. I know the feeling. Maybe you do, too. You have just discovered this person. Your hormones are going crazy. Suddenly nothing else matters. You will do or say anything to keep the relationship going. You’ll move, you’ll quit your job, you’ll shut out the advice of everyone in your world, and you’ll ignore that little voice in your head that says, “Hey, wait a minute.”

Then the initial fire cools. You look around and think, wait, I don’t want to change my whole life. I like my job. I like my home. He’s not as cute as I thought he was. Suddenly he or she says, “About those babies . . . I’m not so sure.” Now you’re committed and in a jam.

That’s where most of the folks here, including me, end up. I hear it over and over. Yesterday, an anonymous writer sent a four-part comment about her situation. She’s 38, he’s 40. She’s sure he’s the love of her life. She moved in with him a while ago. He was okay with baby thing before, but now he’s saying he doesn’t want to have a baby. She’s freaking out, she’s starting counseling, she’s not sure if they can stay together. What do I think she should do?

I never know what to tell people in this situation. The old lady in me misses the days when people didn’t jump into bed or move in together so quickly, when you had to commit to marriage before doing the horizontal polka. Or maybe people were just sneakier about it. We all do it. I slept with Fred early on and moved in with him before we got married. Luckily, I got a good man and I have no regrets, except for not having children, but it doesn’t always work out that well. I could have skipped my whole first marriage if I had listened to the wiser woman in my head.

Don’t ignore that little voice. It’s like when I quit my excellent job and gave up my apartment in 1983 to sing with a band that had a contract to tour the U.S. All I ever wanted was to sing in a band, and here was my chance. We were going to be rich and famous. Our sponsors went bankrupt in two months. There I was with no home and no job. I moved back in with my parents and started over. Wiser members of the band had kept their jobs and had something to go back to, but me, I jumped headfirst.

It’s the same with relationships. I know how it feels to be crazy in love. The rest of the world just disappears, but don’t let it. Do whatever you can to get a clear head, whether it’s prayer, a hiking trip, or a long talk with a friend. Listen to your loved ones, listen to that voice in your head. Don’t burn any bridges until you’re sure it’s going to work because sometimes it’s perfect, and sometimes it turns into a disaster.

Have you been in similar situations? Have you dumped everything for a man or woman and then regretted it? I would love to hear your comments.

12 Things Childless by Marriage People Don’t Dare Say Out Loud

Sue Fagalde Lick glad don't have kids, glad to be childless, political correctness, things you'd like to say, ugly babies


Political correctness touches all areas of life, including childlessness. Friends and relatives who know we’re touchy about not having kids may struggle to say the “right thing” or avoid the subject altogether. Some just say stupid things that make us want to strike them.“Guess you don’t like kids, huh?” “Lucky you, free to do whatever you want.” “You can always adopt.” “Dump the bum and marry someone else.” “You don’t know; you never had a baby.” Know what I mean?
But there are some things we childless folks also avoid saying, things that we think and feel but don’t dare say out loud because then it would look like we’re selfish, we don’t really want kids, or we’re just nasty, trivial people. Have you ever felt like saying any of these?
* I hate you for having children and grandchildren when I don’t get to have them.
* I hate my husband (wife) for not giving me kids.
* My body looks better than yours, ha ha.
* Thank God we didn’t pass on his nose or my butt.
* I’m glad I don’t have to worry about having a child with a birth defect.
* I hate being around whiny kids.
* I have no idea how to take care of a baby.
* Thank God I didn’t have children with HIM.
* My mom had no life; I don’t want that.
* I’m terrified of pregnancy and childbirth.
* Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have children.
* My God, that baby is ugly.
I’m sure I will think of more. Can you add some unexpressed thoughts of your own to the list? Please don’t anyone take offense. We can be honest here, right? Has anyone not thought some of these things?

Don’t hide your childless tears from your partner

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, childless grief, crying over childlessness, husbands who don't want children, running out of time

“My God, I cried and cried reading your post as I sit here in the dark outside grieving for what will never be. I love my partner, and I hate him a little too because he doesn’t want children and I am left bound by that decision. I feel my time running out and wish every single day he would change his mind, but he is unwavering in his decision. And at the same time, I can barely acknowledge this pain and grief to myself because I am terrified of it consuming me. This is the first time I have ever really sat down and let it all wash over me. I can’t stop crying. I don’t know how I am going to walk inside and pretend I’m okay because he doesn’t understand.”

One of my earliest posts, “Are Your Grieving Over Your Lack of Children,” published Nov. 7, 2007, still draws more comments than any other. The comment above is the most recent. It brings back memories for me. I too hid my grief from my husband. I cried in the bathtub, in the car, or in the garage, but not in front of Fred. Oh no. Mustn’t make him feel bad or risk making him mad. But looking back, I think that was wrong. I should have shown how I felt instead of hiding my feelings and hoping some kind of miracle would occur.

I am also bothered by her statement, “I am left bound by that decision.” Is she? It’s so hard to see a situation clearly when we’re in the middle of it. We can’t see any way out. We think we have no options, but we do. To Anonymous, I say reopen the conversation. You can agree to disagree, but don’t hide your feelings. They count as much as his.

I don’t cry all the time anymore. Sometimes I just curse and kick things, but when you’re at the time of life when you see your chances of parenthood disappearing with every passing day, it hurts like hell. Losing your chance to have children is a big loss, and we don’t need to hide it. If people don’t like it, too bad.

I’d love to hear your comments.