Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Media depictions of childlessness miss the mark

Sue Fagalde Lick World Childless Week , , , , , , , , , ,
Cartoon image of Cruella de Vil from 1,001 Dalmations. She has gray skin, wears a fur coat, a red glove and is holding a green cigarette holder. She has an evil grin.

When was the last time you saw our lives without children accurately portrayed in a book, movie, or TV show? Can’t think of anything? That’s because you probably didn’t see anything like that. 

Childless in the Media was the subject of a panel discussion I joined on Zoom last Thursday as part of World Childless Week. Gateway-women founder Jody Day led the discussion. Joining us were author Annie Kirby, counselor and author Meriel Whale, journalism professor Cristina Archetti, and Rosalyn Scott, an editor who runs the NoMo book club featuring books by and about childless women. You can watch the webinar here.

We all agreed that true-to-life images of people without children are hard to find. The childfree are depicted as career-obsessed, hard-hearted, and possibly crazy. Remember Alex in “Fatal Attraction”? Or the countless female characters who were forced to go back to their small-town families for some reason and discovered a handsome hunky flannel-shirted stranger who brought out their feminine mothering side? 

The childless, unable to have children due to infertility and other reasons, are shown as pitiful–until, tada!-a baby magically falls into their hands through adoption or a miraculous conception. The partner who didn’t want kids has done a complete 180 and is delighted to become a parent.

Even those who seem to be set in a childless marriage because one partner doesn’t want to have children–Penny in “The Big Bang Theory”–change their minds. Penny is pregnant and happy about it at the end of the show.

Cristina Archetti, attending from Norway, did a study of 50 films from Norway, Italy, and the United States. The stereotypes hold across cultures, she said. The childless characters either die by suicide or murder, become mothers–thus “normalizing” their lives, or become psychopaths. The exceptions: men and superheroes. Superwoman is apparently okay with not having kids. She’s too busy saving the world. 

Her conclusion: The childless, especially women, are seen as unnatural, broken and needing to be fixed, or as monsters. Yikes. I don’t think that describes most of us. But people often believe what they see in the media. We need truer images of what it’s like to be childless.  

Jody Day asked people who registered for the webinar to list their most loved and hated childless characters. Carrie Bradshaw of “Sex and the City” came out high on both lists. She married Mr. Big relatively late and he didn’t want children. She accepted that with little protest. In the new series, taking place many years later, the widowed Carrie is dating again and children seem to be the last thing on her mind. 

Some of the beloved childless characters include Mary Poppins, Miss Marple, and Jessica Fletcher of the “Murder, She Wrote” series. 

During our discussion, Annie Kirby read from her book The Hollow Sea, and I read portions of my Up Beaver Creek novels  that include childless characters. Meriel Whale shared from her forthcoming book The Unreal City. We believe there is a market for stories about women like us who don’t have children and are not crazy, mean (Nurse Ratched?, Snow White’s wicked stepmother? Cruella de Ville), or likely to end up with a baby at the end (“Mike and Molly,” “Friends”). 

Who would you name as childless characters you admire or hate? 

Is it hard for you to watch shows or read books that are filled with parents and children or that offer magical solutions to childlessness? Can you name any movies, TV shows or books that get it right? 

What do you think? I would love to read your comments. 

  Meanwhile, check out @Nomobookclub on Instagram. 

Little by little, by telling our own stories and sharing the ones that show childlessness as it really is, we can help change the way the world looks at us. 

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‘You’re so lucky you don’t have kids’–Are we?

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“You’re so lucky you don’t have kids” is one of the themes for next week’s World Childless Week. On Friday, Sept. 15, the Childless Elderwomen, including me, will discuss old age without children, a topic that scares the heck out of most of us. 

Are we lucky? Let’s be honest. Sometimes we are. We’re not crawling out of bed early to make lunches and drive the kids to daycare or school, spending all our money on children’s clothes and school supplies, or having every attempt at an adult conversation disrupted by a kid who demands our attention. Mom! Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad! I’m bored! 

But we’re also not having a little one snuggle with us and say, “I love you.” We’re not seeing our family traits reproduced in our children. We’re not saying “my son” or “my daughter” with pride.

We’re not worried every minute that our children might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. 

But we’ll never have adult children who worry that WE might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. I know some kids leave the nest and never look back. But there’s a good chance they’ll be around.

Lucky? Yes, I have time to work from dawn to bedtime without interruption. I only have to take care of myself and my dog. But that feels more like a consolation prize. 

We offered our lives to a partner who couldn’t/wouldn’t give us children. If that partner is still with us, they will take care of us, and we will take care of them. But what if they’re gone, or what if we never had a life partner? What if we are what some call an elder orphan? Parents gone, no spouse, no kids.

My brother visited me last week. He has a wife, two kids, and three grandchildren. The chain of people looking out for “Papa” is clear. Not so much for Aunt Sue. We huddled in the den and talked about aging and death. I handed him an envelope with all of my financial information, my wishes if I die, and a draft of my obituary. We talked about wills, powers of attorney, and health care representatives. If I’m suddenly unconscious, who will be legally allowed to take care of things? It needs to be clear and official because my nearest family member lives 700 miles away. 

We talked about who I would leave my money to, about stepchildren and his children and charities I could fund. We talked about setting up a trust. With no obvious heirs, I’m free to do what I want with whatever’s left. Lucky? Maybe.

We talked, too, about who will handle things if he dies first. The possibility breaks my heart, but I may have to pay a professional, someone who doesn’t even know me. 

Enough doom and gloom. But I want you to consider this visual image. A photo of my brother’s family has seven people in it. There will be more as the young ones marry and have their own kids. The photo of my family has just one person: me. 

Lucky? An old Janis Joplin song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” 

There are advantages and disadvantages to not having children. I’m heading out of town today. I’m not taking a rambunctious three-year-old. Lucky. No one will ever call me “Mom” or “Grandma.” Not so lucky. 

What do you say when someone says “You’re so lucky not to have kids.” 

Are there words for that? Or do we just stare at them with a look that says, “You have no idea.” 

Join us next Friday for the Childless Elderwomen talk, hosted by Jody Day. It’s at noon Pacific time. The website will help you find your time. Register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen/. Attendees are not visible on the screen, so you can be totally anonymous. 

Visit https://www.worldchildlessweek.net for the full schedule of events. 

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Don’t Hide Your Childless Story; Share It

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", childless writer, telling one's stories, telling stories that need to be told, World Childless Week , , , ,
Image is mostly text listing categories for stories to be submitted for World Childless Week. Small images on left, white words on blue on right.

Writing about being childless is not always easy. Sometimes just talking about it is a challenge. Even though I am a writer, sometimes I just want to shut up about the whole not-having-children thing. It’s easier to try to blend in. Dwelling on it hurts, and people often react in ways that make it worse.

You shouldn’t have married him. You shouldn’t have let him deny you children. You should have seen another doctor. You should have adopted. You’re lucky you don’t have children. You’re lucky to have so much freedom. Look at all the money you’re saving. Are you still whining about not having kids? Etc.

But we need to say it out loud so that others in the same situation know they are not alone and so that people who do have children begin to understand what it’s like for us.

It’s not our fault. Or maybe it’s a little our fault, but it’s a done deal now. Adoption is hard and not the same and we decided not to do it. Some days, we do enjoy our freedom and the extra money, but other days we cry our guts out when we see a woman playing with her grandchild or hear about a friend having a baby. And no, marrying a person who already has kids is not the same, not even close.

I’m just riffing here, but does any of that sound familiar? Well, here’s a chance to speak up in a safe space without those negative responses.

World Childless Week, Sept. 11-17, is coming up. Organizer Stephanie Joy Phillips has been gathering personal stories to share on the website. Each day has a different theme.

Sept. 11: Your Story

Sept. 12: Being a Stepparent

Sept. 13: A Letter to the Person Who Hurt Me the Most

Sept. 14: Childless in the Media

Sept. 15: You’re So Lucky to Not Have Kids

Sept. 16: I am Me

Sept. 17: Moving Forward

Stephanie is looking for 800 to 1,000 words, but the stories can be longer or shorter if that’s how it works out. For full guidelines, click here.

I submitted a piece on being a stepmother. It felt good to say it out loud, the good and the bad, in a place where my stepchildren will never see it. It might feel good for you, too. The deadline is Sunday, Aug. 27. I know that’s not much time. But try writing something about your childless experience. The only people reading it will be other childless people like you and I, so you won’t get all those garbage responses from people who don’t understand. You don’t have to use your real name.

If you miss the deadline or find you have more to say, send something to publish here at Childless by Marriage. Guest posts are always welcome. You can use a false name to tell your real truth. Use the guidelines on this page.

Or maybe just try writing something for yourself that you will never show to anyone. Spelling and grammar don’t matter. Just let the words flow. Sometimes writing out your thoughts and feelings helps to make sense of things. If you’re worried about someone reading it, you can delete the file or burn the pages when you’re done.

Even if you don’t get anything written, do plan to attend some or all of the World Childless Week discussions. They’re all on Zoom and free. Every session may not apply to your situation. Choose the ones that do. Your face and name will not appear on the screen.

I will be one of the panelists for the Sept. 14 talk on how childlessness is portrayed in the media and again on Sept. 15 for the Nomo Crones’ fireside chat about aging without children. Both should be a lot of fun and very interesting.

As always, I welcome your comments and thank you for being here.

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Childless Marriage: Would I Do It Again?

Sue Fagalde Lick husbands who don't want children, husbands with Alzheimer's disease, Love or Children, marriage without children, regret not having children , , , , , ,
Bearded white man petting shiny black Lab dog between green sofa and antique china cabinet. The man is the author's late husband Fred.

A reader wrote to me last week with a tough question. If I had it to do over, would I stay with the husband who wouldn’t/couldn’t make me a mother? She is currently married to a man who has never wanted children and has had a vasectomy to make sure it wouldn’t happen. They are very happy together now. They have a good life without children. But she is worried that she will regret her decision in later years.

I suspect a lot of us worry about that.

My initial response to whether I would do it over again was I don’t know. But after thinking about it for a minute, I said, “Yes, yes I would.” When Fred and I were married beside a pond on a beautiful spring day with all our loved ones nearby, we had no doubts, no worries, just joy. Out of our loneliness, we had found each other. It felt like a gift from God.

As for children, I thought his three would help fill the gap. I was a workaholic anyway, obsessed with my writing and music. Being a part-time mom might be perfect.

We could not know that Fred would suffer and die from Alzheimer’s disease or that his adult kids would pull away once he was gone. We could not know that I would end up alone in the woods in Oregon while most of my family was back in California.

Life is full of unknowns. Couples discover they can’t get pregnant. Or they break up. Or one of them dies. A new job requires a move across the country. You get sick. You win the lottery. Or you lose everything in an investment that goes wrong.

We don’t know what’s going to happen. The friend who fell off the camper step and broke her pelvis last month surely did not expect to spend the rest of her vacation in the hospital. Fred’s first wife had a stroke this year, catapulting the family into a life of caregiving and nursing home visits. We just don’t know.

All we know is what we have right now. Are you happy together? Is life good? Do you want this to last forever, or are you itching to run out the door? Can you love him or her wholeheartedly? Are they enough? All you can do is put your faith in your love, and in God, if you’re a believer.

Will you regret a life without children? The honest answer is yes, sometimes you might. I do. Most days I’m fine, but I hate not having a big family to gather with on the holidays and to help each other year-round. But would I marry Fred again? Yes, I would. I never met anyone else I could love as much as I loved him. Can you say the same?

I so appreciate you being here. Thank you for your emails and comments. Keep them coming. I don’t have all the answers. Together, we can figure it out.

******

You will be able to read much more about me and Fred in my forthcoming memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s disease, coming out next June from She Writes Press. It tells our love story from beginning to end, including the hard parts and the joyful ones. That’s Fred in the photo with our puppy Chico, who also plays a big part in the book. Stay tuned for more information.

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Younger Self Asks: What if I Never Use My Womb?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, childless grief, childless in old age, infertility, regret not having children , , , , , ,
The picture shows an open notebook and a woman's hand holding a pen poised over the page. The blurred background appears to be in a wilderness area with lots of fall-color trees.

“I am a woman without children. I’m a fertile woman who can’t have children. It’s more painful than physical inability.”

I’ve been cleaning cupboards. Lots of stuff going into the recycle bin. But these words scrawled on the inside back cover of a yellow notebook from a college European Literature class in 1989 caught my attention. At that time, I was four years into my marriage with Fred. I was 37 years old and making my second attempt at grad school while working as a full-time newspaper reporter. I struggled to take care of home, husband, and my youngest stepson, who had recently moved in with us. It wouldn’t be long before I dropped out of school again because it was too much.

But that note written in tiny cursive where no one else would see it reminds me of how terrible I felt in those days about not having children. All around me, friends and relatives, including my stepdaughter, were having babies. My period every month reminded me that I was not and would never be a mother if I didn’t change my situation ASAP. I was angry and sad and certain that life was NOT FAIR.

Many years later, I have become part of a childless community where most of the people speaking out about it have had fertility problems. They suffered through surgeries, IVF treatments, and miscarriages. They went through hell trying to conceive and bear a child. How can I grieve or complain when I didn’t go through all that? As far as I know, I could have had a baby with no problem—if I had a different husband.

The first husband was never ready, and the second was done with children. He had had a vasectomy and was not going to reverse it. Nor was he willing to adopt. So, no babies for me.

It hurts that I never had a chance to try. Well, there were a couple times without birth control over the years with men who still had sperm, but nothing happened. It’s probably for the best. Those men were scum. But when I imagine lying in bed with a man who says, “Let’s make a baby,” I want to cry.

Yes, I watch too many movies.

People are all too eager to tell me it’s my own damned fault. I should have demanded babies, even if I had to find a different partner. Do I have any right to grieve? If you’re in the same situation, do you?

My former neighbor, a pretty young woman named Brittney, turned up with a newborn the other day. Her third boy. This girl clearly has no problem having babies. Me, I just have an ancient dog who can’t hear and can barely walk.

Not fair? Or just the way life is?

1989 was a long time ago. I’m not 37 anymore. But I feel for that curly-haired woman looking away from her notes about Aristotle’s poetics in literature class, thinking about the babies she was never going to have and writing that tiny heartfelt note.

What do you think? If we accept a life with a partner who can’t or won’t give us children, are we entitled to feel bad about it, as bad as someone who has struggled with infertility? If you left a note to your future self about your childless situation, what would it say?

Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV on Pexels.com

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Without Kids, Do We Have a Stake in the Future?

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Photo shows a white box with the word VOTE in big black letters and a small American flag image with a hand inserting a white card into the slot on top.

Elon Musk, the Tesla billionaire who bought Twitter, recently raised a ruckus when he agreed with a Tweeter who said people without children should not be allowed to vote. “Non-parents have little stake in the future,” he said.

Here’s the link to one of several articles about Musk’s statement. https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/elon-musk-suggests-childless-people-195500862.html

My initial reaction: Of course we have a stake in the future.

My second reaction: What is it?

My third reaction: I made a list.

* We may not have given birth, but we love and care for stepchildren, nieces and nephews, godchildren, the children of our friends, our students, and our co-workers. Our lives are linked in one way or another with all the young people in the world. What we do and say and vote for affects their future.

* We share the same planet and suffer the effects of climate change, war, economic upheaval, discrimination, poverty, homelessness, and other problems. We can make a difference with our personal choices, our actions, and yes, our vote.

* We affect the economy with how we spend our money now and after we die. Because I have no children of my own, I can choose to fund a scholarship or grant or an outright gift to support organizations I believe in or enable a young person to do things he/she would not otherwise have been able to do.

* We affect the future of our world by our work and our service, by the things we make, the things we organize, and the things we do and say. The childless military veteran, pediatrician, mechanic, cook, artist, author, garbage collector, and firefighter all contribute to the future of everyone.

The voting bit only refers to the United States, but, wherever we live, we do have a stake in the future, as well as in the present, whether we have 10 children or none. That’s my opinion.

Your comments?

Photo by Sora Shimazaki on Pexels.com

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Want to Be Seen as Radical? Don’t Have Children

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Are you radical?

Sounds like something we used to say back in the 60s and 70s when something was really “cool” or crazy. Radical, man, groovy.

But radical is a real word, and one of its meanings is marked by a considerable departure from the usual or traditional. I think that applies to every one of us who does not have children. By not following the traditional pattern of marriage, motherhood, and grandmotherhood, we are both forced and freed to follow a nontraditional path, to be radical.

This was the subject of our spring solstice gathering of the Nomo Crones childless elderwomen on Zoom last week. These women are definitely radical. Straight, queer, single, married, childless by infertility, illness, partner problems, and sometimes by choice, they had a lot to say. Watch the video. We’re a lot of fun, and I don’t think we’re much like the traditional grandmotherly old ladies you may know.

MC Jody Day has dubbed us “Radical Old Women” or ROW. I like it.

I know I haven’t followed the standard patterns in my own life. A lifelong writer/musician, I never had to give up my vocations for motherhood or wait until my children grew up to begin. I have been writing steadily since elementary school. Now that my husband is gone and I don’t need a traditional job, I often do my writing and music to the exclusion of everything else. I work in my pajamas, and my house is a mess. I make elaborate meals when I’m in the mood or grab whatever’s hanging out in the fridge when I’m not because no one except my dog is depending on me to feed them. I wake up and go to sleep when I feel like it. Of course, the flip side is spending holidays alone and having no family to help when I’m sick or injured, but let’s not think about that today.

I don’t feel my age. I notice the physical changes, but without the milestones mothers experience, I don’t feel old, and I’m far from ready to accept the lives many of my friends in their 70s are living. A neighbor, also widowed and childless, told me recently that she was selling her house and moving to a senior residence. I looked it up. Mt. Angel Towers. It looks like a prison to me.

Another neighbor, age 75, rowdy and refusing to give up anything, agrees with me. No way in hell. If she gets feeble, she’ll hire people to help, but meanwhile, she wants to travel, work in her garden, shop at garage sales every weekend, and make her pot cookies.

A childless musician friend who just turned 80 has declared she’s going to be an “outrageous octogenarian.” She is losing her vision and has some major health challenges, but she refuses to leave her three-story dome home overlooking the beach; if she can’t climb the stairs, she’ll install an elevator. And she will keep playing the piano with a little help from her neighbors and friends.

I don’t live like anyone in my family, at least anyone who is still alive. What am I doing out here alone in the woods? Radical.

My step-grandmother, Grandma Rachel, never had children. Instead, she inherited our gang. She was a terrible housekeeper, dreadful cook. She was big, loud, and opinionated and a menace behind the wheel of a car. She loved to read, write, and paint pictures. The family disapproved, but I adored her. She was my role model, filling my life with books and encouraging me to follow my dreams. She died 32 years ago at age 86, but I treasure her letters and poems. I want to be her kind of radical.

I want to be the old lady with the crazy hats who sits around in jeans and tennis shoes playing guitar and writing poetry, who does yoga and travels cross-country by herself, who is not too old to crawl on the floor with the kids, who will never be old enough for an old folk’s home.

Another definition of radical: tending or disposed to make extreme changes in existing views, habits, conditions or institutions. In other words, we refuse to accept the status quo. One of five women will never have children. We need the parent-people to see us, to accept us, to understand that our radical lives have the same value as theirs. Who knows? Maybe someday parenting will be the radical choice.

What do you think? Want to be radical with me? I welcome your comments.

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Is the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’ only for people with children?

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Should childless adults be allowed to visit the Disney theme parks? At least one angry mom says no. Her tirade against park visitors without children went viral after she called for a ban on so-called Disney Adults. The grownups are clogging the lines so she has to wait forever with a cranky toddler. They’re in the way and demonstrating bad behavior, and they shouldn’t even be there, she said. It’s a family park, she proclaimed.

Thank God Walt Disney established Disneyland and the parks that followed with the mandate they should be places for all ages to have fun. That includes adults without children. Me, I don’t yearn to go to Disneyland. Been there, done that, but I have loved ones who go to Disneyland every chance they get. They don’t have kids, but so what? The Mickey Mouse ears come in all sizes.

The parents who dislike having non-parents invade their space say we couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like taking a toddler there. I think we do understand. It’s not like we have never seen a child. Ages ago, my late husband and I took his daughter and two-year-old granddaughter to Disneyland. Yes, it was challenging. Also fun. We didn’t pay any attention to who had children and who did not. I also went there as a young adult with friends. Why not?

I’m sure you could find parents at any theme park, water slide, Chuck E Cheese pizza parlor, puppet show, or playground who want to scream, “Get out of here! You don’t belong. This is for families.” We might claim our own spaces and scream back, “No kids here! This is for grownups.”

The word “family” is so loaded. In most cases in the U.S., it’s code for grownups with children. “It’s a family movie”=for children. It’s a “family restaurant”=bring your kids and if anyone complains, tough.” “It’s a family party”=games, food, and music will all be for children. If you don’t have kids, don’t bother coming.

Where does that leave us? Are we not part of a family even if it doesn’t include children? Too many people seem to think that if you never had children, you don’t have a family. How many times have you been asked, “When are you going to start a family?”

What is a family? As this New York Times article explains, there is no easy answer these days. The standard family definition of mom, dad and two kids has given way to many different combinations of people united by blood or love. It does not have to include children.

Online definitions abound.

From the Encyclopedia Britannica:

“a group of persons united by the ties of marriage, blood, or adoption, constituting a single household and interacting with each other in their respective social positions, usually those of spouses, parents, children, and siblings.”

From the Urban Dictionary:

“A group of people, usually of the same blood (but do not have to be), who genuinely love, trust, care about, and look out for each other.”

My worn-out Merriam Webster’s has more definitions of family than I have space to list. They include: “a group of people living under one roof; people of common ancestry; a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation.”

Bottom line: a family is whatever you want it to be. Like me and my dog.

What do you think? Should childless adults be welcome into the Magic Kingdom without kids? Why or why not? Do you find yourself being excluded from “family” activities? What is a family to you? I welcome your comments.

photo by Bo shou at pexels.com

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When People Having Babies on TV Make You Cry

Sue Fagalde Lick babies on TV, childless grief, deciding whether or not to have children, husband can't have kids, husband doesn't want kids, my wife can't have children, wife doesn't want kids , , , , ,

The other day, looking at Facebook videos, I came across a bit from an old sitcom where the husband and wife walk in with their newly adopted son. The family weeps with joy. Finally their dreams have come true.

Then the new mother quotes the old line about how sometimes after people adopt, they get pregnant with a baby of their own. Well, guess what?

“You’re not?”

She nods, tears streaming down her face. “I am.”

More crying, more hugs, more joy. End of scene.

I’m sobbing. Again. My afternoon is trashed. After all these years. My husband will never look at me that way. My parents will never be overjoyed to become grandparents to my kids. I will never be able to appoint a friend or sibling as godmother. I will never hold my own baby in my arms. (And yes, I will not have to wake up five times a night when she’s crying.)

I’m not telling you this so you can feel sorry for me. I watched a movie, ate dinner, and got over it until the next time. This is not about me. I want you to consider how you react.

The tears I shed every time someone has a baby on TV or in real life are not planned. They are a visceral reaction that shows me how important it was and is to me that I never had children. It’s a loss, just like the people in my life who have died. I can say anything I want: Oh, I never had time for them anyway, my man was worth the sacrifice, my life is good, I’ve got my dog, kids can break your heart . . . . I can tell myself and everyone else that it’s cool, I’m okay with it. My sudden tears on an otherwise happy Sunday afternoon tell a different story. It’s worth paying attention.

Some of you are still trying to decide whether to stay with a partner who is unable or unwilling to have children with you. Now, when you can still do something about it, is the time to pay attention not just to the words, but to your gut. All the pros and cons in the world will not give you the true answer. No one else can figure this out for you.

When someone announces a pregnancy or shows off their baby, how do you feel? Are you sad for the rest of the day? Or angry, banging doors and pots and growling at the people around you? Can you calmly say, “Congratulations” and go on with your day unscathed?

There’s your answer.

If you need to change your situation, change it. Or at least reconsider while you have time: Can I give up children to spend the rest of my life with this person? If the answer is no, fight for what you need, whether it’s adoption, fertility treatments, or a different partner. Or get used to weeping over TV babies.

That’s my tough-love advice.

I welcome your comments, even if you want to yell at me.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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When Couples Put Off Having Children Until It’s Too Late

Sue Fagalde Lick delaying marriage, delaying pregnancy, Mother's Day, Reasons not to have children , , , , , ,
The photo offers the words "Not yet! Not ever? in a foggy sky over a green cliff with yellow flowers, wave spray and calm pale blue water.

You know how you think about going out, but you mess around and time passes and after a while it’s too late or you decide you’re fine with staying home? Deciding whether to have children can be like that.

We often hear these days that couples are delaying parenthood. While you’re busy going to school and building your careers, it doesn’t make sense to start a family. You want to travel and have adventures, too. You’re not ready for 2 a.m. feedings and constant responsibility. Time passes. Suddenly you’re in your late 30s or even early 40s and NOW, when your fertility is dwindling, you’re ready to have a family. Or maybe at least one of you has decided life is good just the way it is so let’s forget about babies.

Ring any bells?  

I was born in the post-WWII baby boom. Our fathers had just survived a war and were happy to be alive. Jobs were plentiful, college was not required, houses were affordable, and birth control was not a thing. Couples married in their early 20s and had children right away. They didn’t consider any other way of living. They would have their adventures after the children were grown.

Now, people are waiting longer to get married, averaging 27 for women and 29 for men. Maybe they’re being smart and skipping that “practice marriage” some of us older folk tried right out of college. The pressure to marry so they could have sex without worrying about out-of-wedlock pregnancy has faded away. Marriage is no longer required for sex or having babies.

It takes longer to “settle down” these days. You need a college degree to get any kind of job, need to work way more than 40 hours a week to establish your career, and homes are ridiculously expensive. Husbands and wives both have to work to pay the bills. And what about those student loan debts? So you put off parenthood. Years pass. You lose the urge. Or whoops, when you do start trying, you can’t get pregnant, and you dive into the miseries of infertility.

Does any of this sound familiar? Does it make sense? Are you caught between the clock and getting your life together? Are you putting off parenthood? Does your partner feel it’s too late while you still want to try? Is life just fine without children?

Has not yet turned into not at all?

Please share in the comments.

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Mother’s Day is over. Hallelujah. I don’t know about you, but I have heard enough about the glories of motherhood. I want to tell you about something nice that happened to me. I was taking it easy on Sunday watching a TV show when my phone rang. John, a 90-year-old friend who used to sing in my church choir, told me I had been on his mind. He knew that Mother’s Day was painful for me because I’d never had a chance to be a mother. He wanted me to know that I would have been a wonderful mother. He was sure of it.

I don’t know how you all would have reacted, but I was touched and pleased. It was so sweet for this great-great grandfather who says his family is what keeps him going to think of me sitting alone in my house on Mother’s Day and understand that it could be a difficult day.

How did your Mother’s Day go?

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