Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Stepchildren add stress to childless marriages

Sue Fagalde Lick blended families, childless stepfathers, childless stepmothers, competing with stepchildren for father's attention, stepfather vs. biological father, stepmother vs. biological mother

In last Friday’s post, I asked whether having stepchildren made you a mother. For me, it’s part yes, part no. Fred’s kids have been in my life for almost 30 years, but their biological mother is the one they think of as Mom. And that makes sense. If my father remarried, his new wife might be the most wonderful woman in the world, and we might love her very much, but she could never take the place of our real mother. That’s just biology, plus family history.

If your partner has children from a previous marriage, he will always have a connection to them that you can never have. They are his kids, not yours. When a conflict arises between you and the kids, who is he going to side with? The new wife may find herself competing for her husband’s time and attention, as well as his money. This can put a real damper on a marriage.

When he (or she) has kids and you don’t, that can add to the stress. As several readers have commented here, it gets even worse when his children grow up and have babies of their own. Now he gets to be a grandparent and you don’t.

Now some couples have no problem with any of this. They and the kids become one happy family, and they don’t even think the word “step.” They’re all “our kids.” They are blessed. I hear from plenty of people for whom having stepchildren makes a painful situation even more difficult.

How is it for you? Does your partner have kids from a previous marriage? Do they live with you or with their other parents? Do you get along? Does having them make your childlessness more difficult? Let’s talk about it.

Does having stepchildren make you a mother?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, childless stepmothers, free Childless by Marriage e-book, stepchildren, stepparenting

I’m sharing an excerpt from my book today. In many cases, people who are childless by marriage find themselves becoming stepparents to their spouses’ children from previous marriages. Sometimes it can really ease the pain of not having your own children, but at other times, it just makes the pain of childlessness worse.

A waiter in a restaurant I frequented during my Saratoga News days asked me one day if I was a mother. I gave my standard answer: “I don’t have any children of my own, but I have three stepchildren.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, then you got kids.”

Well, yes and no. A stepmother is a lot like a substitute teacher. The kids know she’s not the real teacher, so they don’t have to listen to her or do what she says. She has all the responsibility without the love and respect. If she sticks around long enough, they might get to like each other, but when the real teacher pokes her head in the door, they’ll all abandon their desks, screaming, “Mrs. Smith, you’re back!”

It also feels like being the babysitter or the nanny. When the folks come home, the dad gets out his wallet, hands you some money and says, “Thank you very much. We’ll take over now.”

Have you experienced this? It’s a big issue for a lot of us. Let’s talk about it for the next few posts. Do you have stepchildren? Do you feel like a real mother or father to them?

You can read a lot more about stepparenting in my book Childless by Marriage. If you have a Kindle and haven’t paid the crazy low price for the e-book yet, the e-book will be available for free Oct. 28-31. Just click here for the page to download it. You can buy the paperback or ebook from Amazon.com.

New Book: Being Fruitful without Multiplying

Sue Fagalde Lick Being Fruitful Without Multiplying, childless vs. childfree, when are you going to have a baby

Do you call yourself childless or childfree? I just finished reading a book called Being Fruitful Without Multiplying, which is an anthology of stories by women and a few men from all over the world who have chosen to be childfree. Not childless, no. A few struggled with infertility and decided to embrace life without children, but most simply chose not to have children. Many say they knew from early childhood that they would not be mothers or fathers.

The stories are neatly arranged by age, from 20 to 61. Although I can’t personally identify with never wanting children, I think we can all identify with the incessant questions–when are you going to have a baby? Why don’t you have children?–the comments that we must be selfish or strange, the warning that we’ll change our minds, and with feeling left out when our friends all seem to be obsessed with their children or grandchildren.

While I have trouble understanding how so many people can believe that having children will ruin their lives and I wish we had more examples of how they are “being fruitful,” readers without children will certainly find that we are far from alone and may find comfort in these stories of lives being lived well without offspring.

How about you? Childless or childfree? If you are not voluntarily childless, how do you feel around couples who say they never wanted children?

Sounds like motherhood to me

Sue Fagalde Lick Alzheimer's Disease, childlessness, dog mother, husbands with Alzheimer's disease, other ways to mother, raising puppies


Once upon a time, what seems like a lifetime ago, but actually only 4 1/2 years, I had a husband with Alzheimer’s disease and two 7-week-old puppies named Chico and Annie. This was an insane combination. I have been reading my old journals lately, and I have to tell you, this sounds exactly like someone trying to take care of twin human babies while caring for an older person with dementia. Why did we adopt these dogs? Our old dog had died, and we missed having a dog around the house. Neighbors advertised a litter of Lab-terrier pups, and they were so cute Fred suggested we get two, the black male for him, the tan female for me. It was insane and wonderful at the same time.

My journal entries are all about the pups peeing, chewing, crying and needing to be held and loved and about how Fred needed pretty much the same thing, minus the chewing of furniture and shoes. I’d put one pup in the crate, and the other would pop out. I’d leave them alone for a minute and find them fighting, one pup trapped behind the water heater, her ear bloody. I had the vet’s phone on speed dial. I’d clean up one mess and turn around to see the other dog squatting on the carpet. I bought absorbent pads by the ton and my hands always smelled like urine. If I needed to leave, I had to find someone to care for the dogs or take them with me in the car. Fred couldn’t dog-sit. I’d say, “Put them in the laundry room,” and he would respond, “What’s the laundry room?” It was that bad.
This went on for weeks, then months. I took the dogs to training classes, doing an hour with one, then putting that one back in the car and doing it all again with the other dog. As my husband deteriorated, I had paid caregivers coming in and left them lengthy notes about what needed to be done for both the husband and the dogs. If I couldn’t get a sitter or they didn’t show up, I couldn’t go. I worried every minute until I got home, usually to a disaster of some sort. Although I tried to pretend otherwise, my work suffered. I tried to write when the husband was busy or asleep and the dogs finally conked out at night, but I was always listening for them to get up or cry out. I write about eating a pancake breakfast at church and wanting to cry because finally I could eat in peace and someone actually served my food to me.
It sounds an awful lot like being a mother. So what if I was mothering dogs and a 71-year-old husband? I did everything but give birth and breastfeed. And yes, I had already helped raise my youngest stepson, too. He lived with us from age 11 to 20. I didn’t do motherhood in the normal way, but I feel justified in claiming the title of “mom.”
How about you? Many of us weep over our loss of babies, but are there ways in which you feel you have been a mother, even though you never gave birth?

Being childless around other people’s kids

Sue Fagalde Lick childless enjoying other people's kids, people going gaga over babies, the problem is parents not children


We may not have our own kids, but the world is full of other people’s children. Does it make you feel better or worse to be around them?

There was a time when I avoided children. If someone brought a baby to the office, I suddenly got very busy at my desk. I just couldn’t share in the admiration and baby talk or in all the sharing of motherhood experiences. “When my xxx was that age . . .” I didn’t feel that I belonged, and it hurt too much to know I’d never have a baby. During church baptisms, I couldn’t join in the benevolent smiles of all the moms and dads remembering when their own little one was christened. I could only think, “That will never happen for me.” Know what I mean?
It was the same with older kids. I didn’t feel as if I knew how to relate. I couldn’t be one of those grownups who talks to the kids or gets involved in their lives.
But I have learned a couple things along the way. It’s not the children that make me uncomfortable. Even if I never gave birth to a child, I WAS a child myself. We all were, and we can relate to kids on that basis. No, it’s the gloating parents and grandparents that make me squirm.
I still don’t exactly surround myself with other people’s children, but I do talk to them now. I sing with the kids in our religious education program and I have discovered that kids are pretty great. It’s amazing to watch them grow and learn and turn into people. And sometimes, wonderful times, I can channel my inner child and laugh and play and sing with them and not worry about the fact that all I have at home is a dog.
In the thick of grieving about the children you may never have, it may be painful, but try to enjoy the children around you if you can. They’re pretty cool. If you can’t, I understand. It will get easier.
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I have new Childless by Marriage Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/ChildlessByMarriage. Drop by there, give it a “like” and keep up with all things related to the book, this blog, and the world of childlessness.

If you marry someone older, does that mean no kids?

Sue Fagalde Lick marrying an older man, older men becoming fathers, spouses at different stages in life, will he change his mind

A comment on a recent post–Will he change his mind? Sept. 18–made me wonder how many of us are married to people who are substantially older than we are. The woman who commented yesterday said her husband was 20 years older. He had been married twice before and had one daughter. Now, a few years into the marriage, they’re not only not having children, but they’re not having sex either. She’s thinking about leaving him in the hope she can find someone else and become a mom.

My first husband was only 3 1/2 years older, but that marriage didn’t last. Fred was 15 years older. I admit in my book that he was sometimes kind of a father figure. He had three kids from his first marriage and didn’t want any more, but he was still a fabulous husband, and I’m not sorry I married him. However, in the end, I did give up children and wound up taking care of him.

Does marrying an older man (or woman) mean you won’t have kids? Not necessarily. Two of my older male friends married substantially younger women and both couples had babies together.

It’s a risk. If you marry someone who is more than a decade older, he may not seem old now, but he will always be at a different place in his life than you are, and he will become a senior citizen, with retirement and possible health problems, long before you do. He may well not want to be still parenting in his 50s, 60s or 70s.

So what’s the answer? I think it varies with every couple. What do you think? Does hooking up with an older partner make it likely you’ll never have children?

New book Being Fruitful Without Multiplying is out now

Sue Fagalde Lick Being Fruitful Without Multiplying, marrying an older man, Melanie Notkin

A new book called Being Fruitful Without Multiplying has just been released in paperback and e-book formats. It’s a collaboration of several authors who write about their fulfilling lives without children. My copy is on the way. Help them out and order a copy. (While you’re at it, buy a copy of Childless by Marriage, too). I haven’t read the book yet, but I think it will help us all feel better about not having children.

 Here are a couple of other fun links to click on.
Try this new piece titled “Single and Childless: Can We Just Move On?” by “Savvy Auntie” Melanie Notkin at the Huffington Post.
The headline alone on this one cracked me up. “Never Marry an Older Man. You’ll End Up Childless, Sex-Starved and Cutting his Toenails.” I don’t want to insult my late husband, but um, yes, that might happen. 🙂 If you marry an older man, it might be fine when you’re both in the prime of life, but someday he might get old. On the other hand, there are benefits to marrying an actual grownup.
Enjoy.

Choosing childlessness for God or art

Sue Fagalde Lick childless priests and nuns, choosing a childless life, sacrificing children for career

A woman at church came flaunting her eight-month-old granddaughter yesterday. She brought her right up to me and another childless woman in the choir, apparently thinking that because we’re female, of course we want to see the baby. The child is beautiful, a blue-eyed doll who stared at me the whole time. I was appropriately complimentary, even as I felt that familiar squeeze of pain. Put simply, I want one of those and I’ll never have one.

But anyway . . . We’ve been talking about religion and how we might feel especially left out at church. Let’s look at another aspect, which I suppose is particular to the Catholic church. Priests and nuns take vows of chastity. They agree to never marry or have children. They sacrifice parenthood for a life devoted to God. In essence, they take God as their spouse. Although occasionally someone leaves the religious life to marry and have a family, I have never heard any religious people who stayed with it complain about not being able to have children.
The reasoning in the church is that one cannot be fully committed to the religious life with the distractions of a human family. In other churches where marriage and parenthood are allowed, the ministers seem to make it work, but not always. For example, one Episcopal priest I know decided not to get married because she felt she couldn’t do both effectively.
It’s not only priests and nuns who decide they can’t be parents and do their life’s work at the same time. Many artists of all sorts choose a life without children. Although I always thought I could write and be a mom, too, I often wonder how I would have had time to do my writing and music while raising a family. Perhaps I would have had to wait until now, when my children would be grown and living elsewhere, to dive into my career. All those years not raising children gave me the freedom to pursue my dreams. If I were the one showing off the baby grandchild, I would not have been able to concentrate on playing the piano at church, a job I love.
I’m just saying that sometimes people choose a life without children because it fulfills them in other ways. Maybe we didn’t choose that life. Maybe it chose us, but maybe we’re meant to do something else, something we couldn’t do if we had kids. Think about it.

Do the childless feel welcome at church?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless feel left out at church, church as family, religion and childlessness

My last post about religion and childlessness has brought in so many comments I think we should keep talking about it.

Let’s talk about another aspect of the religion question. I wonder how many childless people stay away from organized religion because most churches are so family-oriented. The pews seem to be filled with couples and their children. The older folks bring their grandchildren. And here you are, sans offspring. If you’re like me, widowed, divorced, single, or married to someone who doesn’t share your faith, you also come sans spouse. It’s lonely. You feel left out of all the “family” activities. Perhaps you stop going to church.

On the other hand, the people at church can become your family. They have for me. I sing for the children, sing with the choir at Mass, share lunches, dinners and picnics with the other parishioners, and spend holidays with my church friends and their kids. On my last birthday, it was the church ladies who surprised me with a big party and a pile of presents.

I suppose it’s a question of attitude. Organized religion, with its “go forth and multiply” philosophy, can make us feel worse about not having children, reminding us that we are different. But if we can get past the fact that we aren’t like the other parishioners (or members of the temple or mosque), if we can join in the activities and trust that God knows what he’s doing, religion can be a great comfort. When I really look around, I realize I’m not the only childless woman or widow there, and it’s good to not be alone.

What do you think about all this? Again, be kind in your comments. No religion-bashing, okay?

Religion and childlessness–is there a connection?

Sue Fagalde Lick birth control, Catholics and contraception, childlessness and religion, religion and contraception, religion and decision to have children

I don’t usually get into religion here. Everyone has different beliefs, and I don’t want to offend anyone. In my interviews with childless women, most insisted that religion played absolutely no role in their decisions about having children. This surprised me. But I didn’t consult God in the matter either.

I’m Catholic. Catholics have a reputation for reproducing, but I didn’t know until I started researching my book that using birth control was a sin and that abortion was grounds for excommunication. I had no idea. My formal religious education ended at age 13, when the nuns probably assumed we were too young to even think about sex. In my case, they were right. So they never talked about it. My mother’s entire advice about sex was “don’t.” I didn’t until I met the man who became my first husband.

I had fallen away from the church by the time I started dating Jim. When he escorted me to the student health center for birth control pills, I didn’t think, “Oh no, this is a sin.” I took the pills. Later, I switched to a diaphagm, and later still, after a divorce and several boyfriends with benefits, I married a man who had had a vasectomy. Sin, sin, sin. But I didn’t think of it that way. I was just trying not to get pregnant when conditions were wrong and then wishing I could get pregnant when conditions were right. A strict Catholic would say I was trying to manage a part of life that is supposed to be up to God. Furthermore, they would say that my lack of children now is my punishment for being a big old sinner.

I believe in a kinder God who believes we screw up and forgives us. He may even have planned for me to be childless so that I could do other things. Still, when I’m around my Catholic friends, I don’t say much about how I came to be childless. I just look sad and change the subject.

How about you? Does religion have anything to do with your thinking about whether or not to have children? In what way?

I welcome your comments. Please be kind to one another. I know religion is a dangerous topic. It shouldn’t be, but it is, and I want this blog to remain a safe place for all of us.