Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Flattened by a Film

Sue Fagalde Lick childless grief, childless regret, Father of the Bride

Remember that Steve Martin movie “Father of the Bride, Part II,” where his wife and daughter are both having babies at the same time? When they showed the movie on TV, I sat on the floor watching it alone and sobbed.

It’s supposed to be a comedy. I had seen it before. It has appealing actors, delightful dialogue and a happy ending. So what’s my problem?

The usual. I don’t have a baby. I won’t have a baby. I’m never going to have a baby. I don’t have a grandchild, I won’t have a grandchild, I’m never going to have a grandchild. My father will never look at me with the kind of pride that Steve Martin gave his pregnant daughter or the adoration he showed his pregnant wife. I will never have an excuse to run around wth stretchy clothes, an unrestrained appetite and that “glow” pregnant women are supposed to have. I will never have a little girl or boy to throw her or his skinny arms around my neck and hug me. I won’t have a child to teach how to read, how to knit or how to bake cookies. I won’t–

Stop. What kills me most of all is that I could have had children. And I didn’t. What have I done? Why did I marry men who didn’t want children? Why did I let them take this away from me? So I watch this comedy about having babies and I cry, cry, cry. I close the door so my husband won’t hear me. I told him I was over it.

This is a passage from my Childless by Marriage book. The ebook will be online by Mother’s Day. Meanwhile, have you felt this way? Two weeks ago, I saw a mother and baby at church while I was playing the piano. It was all I could do to hang on. I saw the same mother and baby last Sunday and felt nothing. I just never know.

What gets you crying when you think you’re managing your childlessness and the tears come out of nowhere?

Copyright 2012 Sue Fagalde Lick

Silent Sorority book offers insights for all childless people

Sue Fagalde Lick Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos, Silent Sorority

I just finished reading Silent Sorority by Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos. This is a story about infertility and its effects on a couple’s life. Like so many people, Mahoney assumed that when the time was right, she would conceive as easily as most of her friends and family had. But it didn’t happen. She takes us through her decade-long struggle to get pregnant, which ended after their second attempt at in vitro fertilization failed. That’s about halfway through the book. After that, she shares her grief and depression, anger, and attempts to find other “infertiles” like her. Eventually, she found a sisterhood with her blog, www.coming2terms.com, and then this book.

Those of us who are not infertile, just childless by marriage or circumstance or even choice, might wonder why we should read this book, but it’s well-told story that carries the reader along, and it gives an excellent picture of what it’s like not to have children in a world where no one else seems to understand what you’re going through. Visit Pamela’s website and new blog at http://www.silentsorority.com.

So what does this have to do with those of us who are childless by marriage? It’s a good question. I loved this book. For some reason, I lap up tales of pregnancy and childbirth, as well as stories of unsuccessful attempts at pregnancy and childbirth. When a character in a novel is pregnant, I suddenly get very interested. Is this because I’m curious? Jealous? Wanting to live vicariously?

Tsigdinos talk a lot about “fertiles” and “infertiles.” That kind of puts us “childless by marriage” people in a weird place. As far as I know, I would fall in the “fertiles” group. I don’t know of any physical reason why I couldn’t have had a baby. Fred’s vasectomy made it impossible. So I guess he was infertile. Did that make us infertile as a couple? I suppose so.

Anyway, we may or may not identify with all the medical machinations of Tsigdinos’ attempts to get pregnant, but I bet we can identify with her grief at not being able to have kids and her anger at the stupid questions people ask, the insensitivity of people who flaunt their pregnancies and their children in our faces, and the feeling of not fitting in.

Our situation is tough, but I think people dealing with infertility, miscarriages,and stillbirths, people who spend years unsuccessfully trying to have a baby, have a much harder time and deserve our compassion.

I have added this book to the list of books and resources at my Childless web page, http://www.suelick.com/Childless.html. You might want to take a look.

I’d love to hear what you think about all this.

Read about the "Silent Sorority" of barren women

Sue Fagalde Lick childless blogs, Families of Two, Gateway-women, Laura Carroll, Nomos, Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos, Silent Sorority

Have you read Silent Sorority? I can’t put it down. In this memoir, author Pamela Mahoney Tsigninos tells the story of her struggle to get pregnant, trying all the techniques that modern science has to offer, before realizing she will have to accept her childless state as permanent. Yes, she is struggling with infertility while many of us are fertile but don’t have a partner who wants to make babies with us, but many of the challenges she faces, especially in the second half of the book, are the same. Indeed, her title echoes what most of us know: people don’t talk about this stuff much.

Tsigdinos writes with such a free-flowing easy style that I have already gotten halfway through the book in half a day. You can read about her and her book at www.silentsorority.com.

While I was blog-hopping yesterday, I came across Laura Carroll’s blog, called La Vie Childfree. Carroll is the author of Families of Two, which tells the stories of 15 married couples who have decided not to have children. She has published a fascinating post this week on the increasing number of Gen Xers who are not having children.

I also found http://gateway-women.com, a UK blog by psychotherapist Jody Day for the one in five women who don’t have kids. She calls us “nomos,” short for “not-mother.” You’ll find some good reading here, too.

Cheers.

How is a childless body different?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless body, dangers of pregnancy, physical effects of pregnancy

Earlier this week, we talked about the increased risk of cancer for women who have never had children. We are also at greater risk of osteoporosis and certain kinds of arthritis. But before we all rush out and try to get pregnant to stave off cancer, we need to remember that pregnancy and childbirth have their own risks.

Pregnant women experience a host of symptoms, including nausea, weight gain, swollen feet and ankles, dark or blotchy patches on their skin, varicose veins, frequent urination, hemorrhoids and backache. They may also suffer from gestational diabetes, anemia, high blood pressure and aggravation of whatever health problems they had before. Some of the less-known possible side effects include bleeding gums, yeast infections and hair loss.

The above risks don’t even count the delivery, which can lead to death and certainly includes excruciating pain, a total loss of dignity and control, and permanent scarring from C-sections and episiotomies.

In North America, death from childbirth used to be fairly common. As recently as 1917, nearly one in 100 live births resulted in a mother’s death, and it’s still possible. The U.S. National Center for Health Statistics reported 17 deaths per 100,000 births in 2008. We have it comparatively good. In other parts of the world, dying during childbirth is much more common. For example, in Tanzania, it is said that mothers commonly say their final goodbyes to their other children before giving birth, because they know they might not survive.

Most of the bad effects are temporary, but some of the potential permanent effects of giving birth include stretch marks, loose skin, weight gain or redistribution, weakness of the abdominal and vaginal muscles, breasts that shrink and sag after breast-feeding ends, varicose veins, a loss of dental and bone calcium, and vaginal changes that can alter one’s sex life and cause urinary or fecal incontinence.

We don’t talk about these things, and you generally can’t tell by looking at us whether or not we’ve ever been pregnant. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see a carbon copy of my mother at this age. I do have arthritis and the beginnings of osteoporosis, but I doubt that it has anything to do with never being pregnant. Please God, I could live without the cancer that killed my mother.

What about you? Do you notice differences between your body and those of your friends and relatives who have children? Can you tell by looking who’s the mom and who is not? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Copyright 2012 Sue Fagalde Lick
Portions of this post are excerpted from my upcoming book, Childless by Marriage.

Should nuns take the Pill?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless cancer risk, contraceptive pills for nuns

Did you hear the one about how doctors in Australia are recommending that nuns take contraceptive pills to reduce their death rates from cancer? It’s true. Dr. Kara Britt from Monash University, Melbourne, and Professor Roger Short from the University of Melbourne published an article in the medical journal the Lancet recommending that nuns be allowed to take the pill.

Why? It has been common knowledge for a while that women who never bear children have a higher risk of breast, ovarian and uterine cancer. Apparently, pregnancy and breastfeeding offer protection by reducing the number of ovulatory cycles a woman has in her lifetime.

Studies in the 20th century showed a higher death rate from these cancers among nuns. The Australian researchers suggest that putting them on the pill would help. Using oral contraceptives has been shown to reduce the cancer death rates by 12 percent. Using the pill for this purpose shouldn’t violate the rules of the church because it’s being used for health, not for contraception, Britt and Short argue. No response from the Vatican yet.

Assuming most of us aren’t nuns, have you ever had a doctor suggest you take the pill for health reasons even when you weren’t worried about contraception? My doctors have suggested the pill to regulate my periods and to even out my moods but never for cancer protection. If we’ve never given birth, we’re in the same boat as the nuns.

I’d love to hear what you think about this.

Me Babysit? Remember the Great Jell-O Explosion

Sue Fagalde Lick babysitting mishaps, childless babysitter

As I mentioned in my last post, I wasn’t a great babysitter. Neighbors figured if I was teens, I was surely qualified. Wrong.

The first night I cared for little Shawn and Annette down the street, I had to call my mother in to help. The little guy had cut his finger. Blood all over. Toddler screaming. His sister making it stereo. I couldn’t tell whether he had cut his finger off or what. Plus he needed a diaper change, and I had no clue how to do it. Mom cleaned up the tiny cut on Shawn’s finger, kissed it, bandaged it, took care of the diaper and soon had both kids calm and happy. Magic.

Then there was the great Jell-O explosion. I don’t exactly remember what happened anymore. I think I was typing my homework at the kitchen table. The kids wanted Jell-O, so I said go ahead and help yourself, which you don’t do with pre-kindergartners. Next thing I knew, there was red Jell-O on the dark green sofa, on the light green walls, on the beige carpet, on the curtains, on the kids and even on me.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, looking around at the destruction. I sank onto the Jell-O-stained carpet, horrified. A real mother would have changed and bathed the kids and cleaned up the mess with appropriate cleaners, but I had no idea what to do. I dabbed at the Jell-O on the walls with paper towels, making the stains worse than they had been, and I left the kids covered in red goo. It’s amazing that I still got my 75 cents an hour—and was invited back again, with strict instructions not to give the little ones anything to eat. People assume that by the time you’re 16 you can babysit. Not true. Not if the only babies you have ever been around were made by Mattel.

(copyright 2012 Sue Fagalde Lick, excerpted from my upcoming book, Childless by Marriage, pre-order information coming soon.)

Don’t Know Nothin’ About Babies

Sue Fagalde Lick growing up around babies, holding babies, no experience with babies, surrounded by babies

Some women can’t wait to get their hands on a baby. If a mother brings her child to the office, they reach out for the little one, anxious to feel the magic of a child in their arms again. Me, I back away because I don’t even know how to hold a child properly. Babies take one look at me and start crying.

My mother had the gift. Babies always seemed to know they were in good hands with her, but she had lots of practice. Her brother was much younger, and Mom was the designated babysitter. She had lots of younger cousins, too, so she knew how to handle babies, how to hold them, how to feed them, how to diaper them, how to get them to stop crying.

I grew up in a different era in a different kind of family. When my brother was born, I was still a baby myself. My parents didn’t have any more kids. All the children on our block were the same ages as Mike and I. I did not have babies around to take care of–unless you count my Tiny Tears doll. When I tried babysitting in my teens, it was a disaster. I’ll tell you a story about that in another post.

As a young married woman, I was surrounded by other young married women who were not ready for children. If they had had babies or if my first marriage had lasted longer, maybe I would have gotten used to being around them. But I got divorced, and when I married again, I married a much older man whose kids were nearly grown and whose friends’ children were already adults. I missed the baby train altogether. I got a small taste with the stepgrandchildren, but not enough to compete with experienced mom-types. I still can’t put on a diaper so it doesn’t fall off.

Dogs are a different story. I am a fully qualified dog mom. But I missed the training for people moms. How about you? Did you grow up with lots of babies around? Were or are you surrounded by women who have children? Are you comfortable around babies, or are you stranded on the Planet No-Kids like me? I’d love to hear your experiences.

Our secret grief

Sue Fagalde Lick childless grief, Melanie Notkin, motherhood delayed, Savvy Auntie, women talking about their children

A while back, I wrote a post about the Savvy Auntie, a book and blog by Melanie Notkin. She writes about the joys of being a childless aunt. I highly recommend you check her out. Even with the joys of aunthood, Melanie admits to grieving over the children she never had. Earlier this month, she published an article in Psychology Today titled, “My Secret Grief: Over 35, Single, and Childless.” It’s a touching piece about that grief that people with kids don’t always understand. After all, they think, we could have had children. If we didn’t, it’s our own fault. You and I know that’s not always true. Melanie tells it well.

Last week, I went to lunch with a bunch of church ladies. Inevitably, much of the conversation focused on their children. People talked about their latest escapades, compared their ages, remembered how they were growing up. A friend showed photos of her pregnant daughter-in-law’s sonogram. I didn’t have much to say. Finally, a woman across from me said, “You have kids, don’t you, Sue?” “No, I don’t,” I said. “I thought you did.” “Nope.” And then there was this silence. You know that silence? Oh yes.

A younger woman who arrived late took the seat beside me. I noticed her sparkling engagement ring, and she smilingly admitted that she and her fiance had finally set a date. They have been together off and on for seven years. She is anxious to have children, but now she’s in her 40s and doesn’t know if she can. “If it’s God’s will, I’ll get pregnant,” she said. I believe in God, but I wanted to wring her fiance’s neck. Does he not understand that if you wait too long, you lose the chance to have kids? Seven years. Grrr.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. You know what? It’s okay to grieve, but it’s also okay to just get mad. Then maybe we can do something about it.

I Dream About a Boy and a Man

Sue Fagalde Lick baby dreams, dreams about children, significance of dreams, Still Crazy literary magazine

Nine months ago this morning, my husband Fred was dying. I dreamed last night that I saw him in a parking garage. Standing beside me was a little boy, slender, maybe 11 years old, our son. Fred was dressed up for work, looking wonderful, his hair and beard still brown. I was shocked to see him. It was a miracle. “Are you back?” I asked. “I guess so. I’m here,” he said. I kept staring at him, trying to drink him in. Finally, he kissed us both goodbye, then got into the car and drove away.

I put my arms around my son. He looked very Hispanic, clearly from my side of the family. We started to dance. “You’re a great dancer already,” I said. “Just like your dad.” We danced for a long time. Then I turned around and saw on the floor a pair of blue socks still in the shape of Fred’s feet. I knew he was gone.

Morbid and weird, I know, but I’m struck by my dream about this son. Over the years I’ve had lots of baby dreams where I was pregnant or had an infant in my arms. This is the first time I’ve dreamed about an older child. It’s like he was sent to comfort me.

I wonder what it would be like if I had the real thing. He’d be at school now. This afternoon, I’d be waiting to greet him instead of preparing to walk the dog. Oh well. Perhaps Fred was sending me a gift on this anniversary, telling me he’s still here, even if I can’t see or touch him anymore.

Do you dream about babies or children you might have had? Let’s share.

Is it still a family without kids?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless family, family as code for children, nonbiological family

Yesterday as I looked out at the falling snow and had only the dog to tell about it, I got to thinking that I have done pretty well with the career side of my life and with my own personal growth, but have totally failed at the family side. Here I am in my late 50s with no kids, no grandkids, and no husband, just a dog. What’s left of my birth family is far away. Sure, I have lots of friends, but it’s not the same. When you grow up, get married and have kids, it’s not just about finding a man or giving birth; it’s about creating a family. Which apparently I did not do. Or maybe I was just unlucky to lose two husbands, one through divorce, and one through death.

This is so depressing I probably should delete it, but let’s talk about what makes a family. We all know that “family” is a code word for children. When the church holds a “family Halloween party,” I know it’s going to be all about kids. Sure, it’s politically correct to talk about all kinds of formations: two moms and a child, a dad and a child, a childless couple with three cats, etc. But that’s not what most people mean by “family.”

What really makes a family? I think it’s a group of people you can count on and feel completely at home with because you’re all woven from the same cloth. You usually share a history, culture, beliefs and biology, but maybe you can make a family without the biology part.

My dictionary’s first definition of family says it’s “a group of individuals living under one roof.” That’s pretty broad. Another definition talks about people or animals “deriving from common stock.” Hmm.

What do you think? What is a family? If you don’t have children, how do you create one? I’d love to hear your comments.