Author: Sue Fagalde Lick

Childless, Alone? What’s Your Emergency Plan?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless in old age, living alone, preparing for emergencies , , , , , , , , ,
3d cartoon woman falling from height, illustration isolated on white background

Last Thursday, when I walked out on my deck to take some pictures of the trees in the fog, a rotting board collapsed underneath my foot. My leg went through, and I fell backwards across the edge of the deck onto the wet lawn with my leg still stuck between the boards. I live alone. There were no neighbors within shouting distance, the young ones at work and the older ones too far away to hear me. I had been holding my phone, but it flew out of my hand and onto the grass when I fell. I had no choice but to push myself up and pull my leg out. I’m grateful I had the strength to do that. Maybe all that yoga I have done over the years helped. If I couldn’t push myself out, I don’t know what I would have done.

Thank God the leg was not broken, but it hurt, and I had this weird pain in my back. I told myself I’d go to Urgent Care the next day if it wasn’t better. I had work to do.

I was watching TV that night when I turned slightly and something in my side popped. Uh-oh. A minute later, I sneezed, felt agonizing pain, and couldn’t catch my breath. I have to go to the hospital, I thought. Something is really wrong. Carefully I put on my shoes.

Unlike the time when I drove to the ER at midnight with chest pains, which was stupid, I knew I should not drive myself. I was shaking all over and couldn’t stand up straight. I called a neighbor. She was out of town and so sorry she couldn’t help. Screw it, I thought, and dialed 911. After my first-ever ambulance ride to the hospital, X-rays showed a broken rib and contusions from hip to ankle. All they could really offer was painkillers. Everything will heal in time.

“Do you have anyone to be with you?” the nurse asked as I lay on the hospital bed in my green gown and yellow Covid mask.

“No,” I said, holding back tears.

“Do you have anyone to drive you home?”

“I thought I’d take a taxi,” I said.

She shook her head. “Since Covid, taxis are hard to get around here.” We live in a small town with no Ubers and sparse bus runs. “You’d better try to find a friend or family member to come get you.” She handed me my phone.

I wanted to cry so hard, but I held it in. I had already wept after the fall, and I would do it again, but I had to find a ride. It was midnight. Most people I knew were asleep. I called a church friend who stays up late. It was a bit of drive, but she said she was happy to do it. I waited by the door in a wheelchair. I was so glad to see her.

Then I was alone with my dog again. I couldn’t sleep, my brain reliving the fall, thinking about what could have happened. I couldn’t find a comfortable position in the bed. I’m not a fan of recliner chairs, but I wished I had one. I wished I had someone to bring me my pills. I wondered how I would change the Lidocaine patch over my ribs by myself (turns out it’s not that difficult).

The next couple days brought me a lot of attention as the word spread. Friends brought medicine, dog food, flowers and dinner. They prayed over me and assured me I am not alone, that they care. My family lives too far away to be of any immediate help, but I am blessed with great friends.

Now I’m taking care of myself. Some things are difficult, but I’m managing. The pain has been severe, but it is easing. I am so grateful that this was not the event that would send me out of my independent life and into a nursing home.

If I had children and grandchildren, like most 70-year-olds, one would expect them to rally around, sitting with me at the hospital, giving me rides, picking up my prescriptions, and dealing with my dog, who has problems of her own. But I don’t. Maybe they wouldn’t anyway. But I hope they would.

My handyman has already replaced the rotting boards in my deck and assures me it should be secure for a few more years. After days of fog, the sun is finally shining, and I will sit on my deck later.

And yes, I’m looking into those emergency-alert devices, even though I hate the whole idea of wearing one.

Meanwhile, this incident has shown me that I need a better emergency plan. I need a team of friends who are ready to go if I need help. The people are there. We just need to make it more formal, so I have names and numbers ready for me—and the hospital—if/when this happens again. In return, I will do the same for them.

I’m terrible about asking for help. Yesterday, I bought my own groceries, and I probably should not have done that. It was harder than I expected. If we create a plan, then we can feel comfortable calling on our friends when we need them. I’m going to work on that. Did you know that 27 percent of American households are occupied by people living alone? Some have kids; some don’t. We all need a plan.

Most of you are nowhere near my age, but it’s something to consider in this childless life. If you never have children and your partner is gone—even if they’re just gone for a week or a day—who will you call? How will you manage your own care, especially if you are severely injured or unconscious?

We can do this childless thing, even survive old age alone, but we need to be ready for the unexpected. I certainly never dreamed the deck would break under me. It must have been the weight of that extra chocolate chip cookie I ate the night before.

Ilustration copyright: 3dmask

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Without kids, what pictures go in the album?

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Daughters Day. Son’s Day. Last week, social media was loaded with photos of people celebrating their children. As if Mother’s Day and Father’s Day weren’t bad enough. I had to look away.
It’s not just hard on childless people. What about those who have kids but not of that gender? Or worse, whose children have died or whom they never see?
I understand why parents take and post lots of kid pictures. It’s the same thing that makes me focus my camera on my dog all the time. They’re cute. They’re ours. We’re proud of them. We want to show them off. We want to mark the milestones and the changes as they get older. I get it. I just can’t look at it too much before I start feeling sad.

Big yellow dog with white face seen in profile in passenger seat of a car in front of the vet's office.

Photography has changed drastically since I was young, back in the days when people picked up their photos at the pharmacy or photo store, showed them to their friends, then put them in albums, labeling each picture with names and dates.

My dental hygienist, whose life revolves around her kids, said no one does photo albums anymore. True? I hardly ever print out my photos. I stopped doing albums ages ago. My pictures are not even well-organized on my phone and my computer. No one looks at them but me.

Do people still display family photos in their houses? If I had kids and grandkids, I suppose I’d have their pictures all over the place. Instead, I have paintings, knick-knacks, wall hangings, and pictures of relatives who are no longer alive.

I do have a growing accumulation of photos of my great nieces and nephew on my computer, but that’s where they stay.

For generations, my family collected photos and put them in albums. I have inherited pictures from my parents and grandparents, most of them attached to black pages with white or gold stickers slipped over the corners. They’re falling apart. I also have my modern color photos on sticky pages. Those are fading. I have scanned some of the most precious photos to share online because that’s the only place I share pictures these days.

I don’t know where my photos will go when I die. Honestly, I don’t think anyone in my family will want them. But what a tragedy to throw them away. It’s like throwing away a life.

What to do with the photo albums and other family heirlooms is one of the sticky things about not having children. If we had children, I’ll bet we would still be preserving their photos in some way, whether in a traditional album, a Facebook memory book, or a fancy scrapbook. We’d be making virtual slide shows and videos. We’d want to save all those memories and pass them down. But without children, is there any point in doing it?

When my husband died, I mailed lots of family photos to his brother and his kids. But I still have many pictures of precious times I spent with him, including those days when I felt like kind of a mom with his children around. I’m keeping those pictures for me.

Life is so transitory these days. You take a picture, post it online, get some likes and comments, and move on. Is that just the way it is now? Should I stop living in the past? Does it matter that Facebook and Instagram are bound to disappear as technology changes?

What about you? Do the happy family photos online bother you? Do you save your photos in albums or hang them on the wall? Most of my pictures are scenery, dogs, or selfies. Without kids, what do you photograph? Do you have a photo collection? Where will it go when you’re gone?

I look forward to your comments.

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What will you do with your one childless life?

Sue Fagalde Lick accepting childlessness, beyond childlessness , , , , , , , ,
Red candle, white flame, black background--signifying our dreams

“The happy ending doesn’t have to be a child; the happy ending can be something else for you.”

These powerful words came from Lana Walker, one of the panelists at a World Childless Week webinar titled “Accepting the New Me; the Childless Me I never Imagined.” (watch it here). All five women dealt with infertility. As I discussed last week there’s a difference between being childless by marriage and childless by infertility. But the result is the same. We don’t have children.

Walker, who reinvented herself as a massage therapist, is still grieving her loss. In fact, she thought she could not offer massages to pregnant women because it would be too upsetting, but now she specializes in massages for pregnant women. It’s a way to offer care and love to them, she says. While childlessness is rough, she notes that her lack of children has given her the gift of space, time, and energy to do other things. “Grieve, then let it go to make space for the other things you can do,” she says.

The others agreed that not having children opens up other possibilities. Lucy North, married with two cats and a dog, followed her desire to live on the coast and become an artist. One of her specialties is greeting cards and affirmation cards for childless people.

Kat Brown is an author, journalist and book editor. She has a book about childless women coming out in 2024 titled “No One Talks about This Stuff.” It has been a great help to talk about her experiences with others, she says. She sometimes uses the clueless questions people ask her as teachable moments to explain what it’s like to be childless and hopefully help them to be more understanding. Childlessness is just one facet of us, she stresses.

Victoria Firth works in the arts and theater and created a show about her childless journey. Being single and childless gave her time to care for her mother at the end of her life and to follow her creativity where it led.

Stephanie Joy Philips turned her energy to organizing World Childless Week to bring together people like herself.

At the beginning of the session, Philips lit a candle. She asked each panelist to describe her life as the mother she might have been. Then she blew the candle out. “That dream is gone,” she said. At the end of the session, she re-lit the candle. “Our first dream went out, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have new dreams.”

Powerful words. My friends, if you had a dream of motherhood or fatherhood, what new dreams will you have? Your life is yours. What will you do with it?

Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

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Childless by marriage vs. childless by infertility

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, infertility, marrying infertile man, vasectomy reversal, World Childless Week , , , , ,

Being childless through infertility and being childless by marriage, when the issue is not lack of eggs or sperm, are two very different things. With infertility, couples try hard to conceive and deliver a child. They undergo all kinds of invasive treatments, spend huge amounts of money, and ride a rollercoaster of hope and disappointment, only to end up still childless. Some suffer multiple miscarriages and a grief those of us who have never been pregnant can only imagine.

They have no choice in this outcome. They did everything they could. Adopt? It’s not so easy, especially if you have already used up all the time, money, and energy you can spare.

When a couple is infertile, whether the problem is from his sperm or a problem with her reproductive system, their only choices are to accept their fate, try whatever they can, and ultimately to stop trying. They do it together because they both long to be parents.

It is possible to be childless by marriage because your spouse is infertile. You may not know that in advance. When you find out, you have a choice: stay and face the same choices as other infertile couples or split up and look for someone who can give you children.

Is that your story? I know some of you reading this are in that situation.

What if you knew going into the marriage that children would be impossible with this person? So many men, especially those who were married before, have had vasectomies. Is it possible to get them reversed? Yes, but the surgery doesn’t always work. The longer it has been, the less likely the man will be able to provide healthy sperm.

What if there’s no physical reason you can’t have children together? What if it’s just that your mate does not want kids? That’s quite different. I wonder about relationships where couples disagree on something so huge. What else will they clash on? Money? Career? Where to live? But you love each other. So maybe you can accept a marriage without children. Or maybe you can’t. You do have a choice. You can take your healthy sperm or your fertile ovaries elsewhere.

What if you never find anyone else? Ah, that’s the risk. It’s a gamble. But unlike those struggling with infertility, at least you get to roll the dice.

Last week’s webinars at World Childless Week got me thinking. A majority of the speakers were childless due to fertility problems. They are grieving and trying to build new lives after years of fertility treatments and disappointment. As I sat here with my healthy never-used uterus, I could identify with much of what they said because we are all lacking children. We all deal with insensitive comments, feel left out at family gatherings, and grieve the children we might have had, but suddenly it came at me with big flashing lights: I had a choice. They did not.

What do you think about this? How is it different being childless due to infertility and being childless because you chose a person who doesn’t want kids? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

If you missed any or all of the sessions at World Childless Week, you can still watch the recordings at worldchildlessweek.net.

Thank you all for being here.

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A Letter to My Younger Pre-Childless Self

Sue Fagalde Lick men who already have children, men who don't want children, New Year's, Annie the dog, Vestibular Disease, COVID, Childless Elderwomen, Jody Day, Kate Kaufmann, Jackie Shannon Hollis, Maria Hill, Donna Ward, Karen Malone Wright, NotMom, Unleashed in oregon, older childless women , , , , , , , , ,

Those of us participating in the childless elderwomen online chat today (Sept. 14) at World Childless Week were asked to write a letter to our younger selves. Knowing what we know now, what would we say if we could? Here is what I came up with. I invite you to try this exercise for yourself and share it in the comments.

Girl reporter on the job, I had no idea what was coming.

Dear 20-year-old Sue,

If I told you how much the world would change in the next 50 years, you would not believe me. If I told you your life would be nothing like your mother’s, you would not believe that either. But it’s true. Everything will change. The only thing that will stay the same is you. Fifty years later, you will still be writing poems and playing music. You will stay up too late reading. You will keep doing yoga, even the shoulder stand.  But you will not be Doris Day married to Rock Hudson (before we learned he was gay). You will be none of those movie heroines who live happily ever after with the husband, kids, and house with the white picket fence.

I don’t want to frighten you, but you will never celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary with this man you think you love. Nor will you be a mother, grandmother, or great-grandmother, surrounded by the family you and your beloved created. No. You will look like your mother. Same brown eyes, black hair, soft padded breasts perfect for comforting a weeping child. You will know how to make cookies and knit tiny sweaters, how to teach a little one to read, to spell, and to love God. You will have mother love to give but no one to receive it except your dogs. You will have dogs.

It could be different if you take a different path now when there’s still time. You got a late start. You were the girl who never had a date in high school, whose parents were so strict you stayed home sewing or knitting when your classmates were going to parties and dances. Now that you’re in college, you’re just beginning to experience what others did back in middle school. First dates, first kisses, first sex. It’s okay. Sex is natural. And it’s good that you went to the student health center for birth control. It’s not time for babies now. Finish your education. You will need that degree to support yourself. You will never be a housewife or stay-at-home mom. 

Lose yourself in your lover’s arms. Enjoy it. But you do not have to marry him. And if you do, it’s all right to demand of him everything you need. Do not assume it will come naturally. This is not a movie, with love and marriage followed by the baby carriage. Talk to him, insist on answers. He has this way of clamping his jaws and refusing to talk. But he needs to know you expect to have babies. Just like you expect to keep writing and singing. If that scares him away, let him go. He is not your only choice. 

This marriage will not last. You will be alone for a while. By the time you find Mr. Right, he will have already had children and will not be willing or able to father any more. And no, this is not “The Sound of Music.” His children will not adore you. But, you will have a love worthy of any movie. It’s your choice. Love or children of your own?

No, your life will be nothing like your mother’s or anything like you expect. But it will be good. When you were playing with your Barbie dolls, were they mommies? No, they were not. They were singers going off to the “club” to perform. Who was your idol in middle school? Jo in Little Women. The writer. You will be these things. Your obituary will list your book titles instead of your children and grandchildren. That is not a terrible thing.

You still have time to change your fate. Make other choices now, and you might live a life like everyone else, filled with family who call you “Mom” and “Grandma.” But I suspect this is how your movie is supposed to be. It’s all right. Everyone can’t be Doris Day.  

Love,

Sue at 70

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World Childless Week, Sept. 12-18, is Your Chance to Feel Less Alone

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poster for World Childless Week, white type of blue background

Next week is World Childless Week. Founder Stephanie Joy Phillips offers seven days of webinars, workshops, and access to resources for those of us who are childless not by choice. Some of the sessions focus on those who have struggled with infertility. If that is not your issue, you might want to skip those, but there is still a lot to be gleaned from these free online sessions. See the poster below for a list and register for the sessions that interest you. They will be recorded, so if you can’t make it at the time they’re aired live, sign up anyway. Many of the speakers are in the UK and their time is many hours different for people like me on the U.S. west coast.  

Each day has a theme. On Wednesday, Sept. 14, the “Nomo Crones” group, which includes me, will read letters to our younger selves. What would you say at 40, 60, or 80 to 20-year-old you? I will share mine in a Zoom session with the other crones at noon Pacific time and publish it here in the blog next week. I would love for you to try that exercise yourselves. It doesn’t have to be long, just a page or two. If you are willing, I can share them with the readers here at Childless by Marriage.

Here are Stephanie’s instructions:

Picture of Stephanie Joy Phillips, multi-colored dress, short red hair, big smile
Stephanie Joy Phillips

“Do you wish you could send your younger self the strength, confidence and love to face the future you’ve already lived? Let them know they are worthy and perfect just as they are, no matter what decisions they make and what life throws at them? Write that letter and share with them everything you can to help them realize how important they are, how much they matter and what positives they bring to the world and those around them.”

I would add: Knowing what you know now, what is your advice for your younger self?

White on blue, webinar schedule for World Childless Week

An alternative: If you feel like you’re too young to write to your younger self, try writing to your older self. What would you say to 60-year-old you?

I usually write more in this space, but you have your assignments, should you choose to accept them: Sign up for at least one event at World Childless Week and write that letter to your younger self.

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Brief side note: Did you watch the Bachelorette episode where Gabby booted a guy she really liked because she wasn’t ready to become a stepmother? I welcome comments on that, too. It’s a dumb show, but I’m hooked on it.

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How Has COVID Affected Your Decision to Not Have Children?

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White sign on wooden table, orange background. Sign says: Not today, #COVID 19

When COVID hit us in 2020, people predicted a new baby boom. After all, with so many people forced to stay home together, wouldn’t they be having more sex? Wouldn’t people emerge from lockdown preggers or showing off new babies? 

So far, it hasn’t turned out that way. Birth rates actually declined for a while. The surge may still be coming, but maybe not. Things are different from when we had baby booms after the Great Depression and World War II. Pandemic or not, people are already having fewer babies in many parts of the world. Although couples may have been spending more time together in 2020 and 2021, perhaps working remotely on their laptops side by side at home and maybe even having more sex than usual (did you?), there are lots of reasons why they might keep using the birth control, including:

  1. Fear of illness. What if they got COVID while pregnant? What if they got very sick and died? 
  2. Lack of access to medical care. Remember when you couldn’t get a doctor’s appointment unless you were dying, when you had to jump through many hoops to get in the door of a clinic or hospital, when non-emergency procedures were canceled or postponed?
  3. Fertility treatment centers closed or greatly curtailing their work 
  4. Financial upheaval, people losing their jobs, businesses closing, nobody sure what would happen
  5. Adoption agencies closing or limiting services
  6. Bad news every day: illness, climate change, mass shootings, war–why bring a child into such a frightening world?
  7. Watching friends and relatives with children struggle with lack of childcare and remote schooling
  8. The difficulty of dating during a pandemic

The isolation period has pretty much ended, although we know it could come again. Things have reopened, but COVID is far from over. In fact, there’s a new booster shot coming soon. More people I know have gotten the disease lately than did before, although fewer are being hospitalized and dying.  

You know all of this. What I want to ask is how it affected the baby discussions at your house. Did you and your partner talk about changing your plans to have or not have babies? Or did COVID make no difference at all? Did the troubles of the last few years just cement your partner’s refusal to procreate? Do you know anyone having pandemic babies? 

Let’s talk about it in the comments. I really want to hear what you have to say. 

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

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Novels’ Main Character is Childless Like Us

Sue Fagalde Lick books, books about childlessness, Sue Fagalde Lick , , , , , ,

When I started writing my novel Up Beaver Creek, I did not intentionally make my heroine childless. She just came out that way, probably because I don’t have children. Her non-Mom status has not changed in the sequel, Seal Rock Sound, which has just been published.

Book cover for the novel Seal Rock Sound features an ocean scene with black rocks and fluffy white clouds tinged with orange.

I don’t automatically give my characters the full family package because I have never had that. A writer whose main identity is Mom might create people who either have children or are planning to. Often the happy ending includes a pregnancy announcement. My girl PD Soares will never be pregnant. In her case, she suffered through a bad childless first marriage, infertility with her second husband, and then widowhood when he died. Now 43, she’s sure she’ll never be a mother. But the question keeps coming up, as in these excerpts from Seal Rock Sound:

On a date:

Arlo delivers a basket of warm bread. Donovan grabs a slice and slides the basket over to me. “Did you ever want to have kids, PD?”

Yikes. I should have known this question would come up. Everyone expects a woman my age to have children. I nudge the breadbasket away, trying to resist the temptation. “Yes, we tried to have children. My husband and I could not seem to get pregnant. His sperm and my eggs just wouldn’t do the job. We were starting to look into adoption when he got sick.”

“It’s not too late.”

“Yeah, I think it is. I’m 43 and single. That ship has sailed.” Change the subject before you stress-eat all the bread in that basket. “How about you? Any children?”

“Well . . .”

Talking to a friend:

Cover for the novel Up Beaver Creek shows a peaceful river running through green trees and bushes. The sky is blue with a little white cloud in the upper right corner.

“It all washed away in one night. Now I have to support my family. Maybe in 20 or 30 years, I can paint again.”

I picture her in a bright room overlooking the ocean, painting on silk with delicate brushes. Her painting was like my music. Because I have no husband or children, I’m free to keep doing it.

“Helen, I’m so—”

She holds up her hand. “Don’t say sorry again. I know you are. But you don’t know how it is when you have a family to take care of.”

Ouch. But it’s true. “Can I buy you a blueberry scone and another cup of tea?”

She checks her watch. “Yes. Thank you.”

I return to the counter, order and top off my coffee. It’s time to change the subject.

Car-shopping:

I sink onto the black leather. I’m up higher than in my old car, but this one is considerably smaller than the rental I’ve been driving. I study the dash.

“They went for the whole package. It’s got Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, backup warning system, the whole shot. Plus four-wheel drive. The back seat folds down if you need to haul stuff. Do you have kids?”

I look at this cookie-cutter white guy in a suit. “No. It’s just me.”

“It’s great for dogs, too. I’ll bet you have a dog.”

 I’m not in the mood to tell him the story of my life.

At work helping a frightened teen who just got her first period:

I escorted her to the restroom and closed us up in the handicapped stall. It was crazy intimate for someone I had just met, but I got her “bandaged” up with a maxi pad and retied her sweatshirt around her waist so no one could see the drying blood on her pants.

As we washed our hands, she smiled at me. “I guess I remember some of my friends talking about this.”

“Sure. We all get our periods. Even me. It’s normal. You’re just becoming a woman. Soon your breasts will grow, and you won’t be a little girl anymore. It’s actually pretty cool.”

“Thanks, PD.”

“You’re welcome.” I hugged her and returned to my desk.

I couldn’t help thinking about how I could have had a girl that age if nature had cooperated. An ache bloomed inside me. I was never going to be the mom giving her daughter “the talk.” I would never see my little girl grow into a woman. Never send her off to school dances, help her with her spelling, attend her graduation and her wedding, or cuddle her babies in my arms. I blinked back my tears. Not here, not now. Just do the job.

I forced a smile at an old woman in pink sweats. “Hi, what I can do for you?”

***

Will I ever write a novel about someone who has children? Probably. The majority of adults are parents. Just as I used to do when I was writing articles for parenting publications, I’ll do my research. All of my characters can’t be just like me. If I want them to be doctors, police officers, or truck drivers, I have to find out what that’s all about. Likewise, if I want to create fictional moms. Meanwhile, I have added my books to the limited number of stories about people who don’t have children.

Up Beaver Creek and Seal Rock Sound are both available at Amazon.com and by order everywhere books are sold. I am available for talks and book-signings, live on the West Coast, via Zoom everywhere.

Do you have some favorite childless heroines from books or movies? Do you think we’re seeing more characters without kids these days? As always, I welcome your comments.

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Why Your Marriage Might Be Happier Without Kids

Sue Fagalde Lick babies and marriage, childfree, children taking the romance out of marriage, effect of children on marriage, Happily Childfree , , , , ,

I don’t usually venture far into the “childfree” community because the anti-children rhetoric makes me grit my teeth, but when I came across this 10-minute video on Facebook today, I decided to ditch my planned post and share this with you because, well, wow.

If you have time, watch it and come back.

In this video, “Childfree Kimberly” aka Kimberly Fisher shares “Why You Should Get Married and Not Have Kids.” She offers a list of advantages to having a childfree marriage. They include: privacy, quality time with your partner, no requirement to “stay together for the kids” but a chance to choose every day to stay together, freedom to grow together rather than fall into separate mom and dad roles, spontaneous dates to do fun things together, and no child getting in the middle of your marriage.

Here’s the thing. She’s right. All of these points sound like great advantages to not having children. Kids do interrupt your privacy and make it hard to spend quality time together. They are a consideration in everything you do, whether it’s going out to dinner or deciding to split up. They’re also expensive, messy, and frequently annoying. When children enter the picture, your relationship changes and not always in a good way.

We could argue the other side, the advantages of having children, the magic of creating a human being, the joy of having a big family, the satisfaction of carrying family genes and traditions into the next generation, the companionship of grown sons and daughters, help in old age, etc. We would be right about that, too.

Many parents would say that raising children is difficult but rewarding, that you feel a love like you’ve never felt before. Kids can also break your heart. People who never wanted children might say, “Who needs all this drama?”

I wanted to share this video at Childless by Marriage because it may help us understand why our partners are unwilling to have children with us, especially if they have already gone through it with someone else. They want the privacy, freedom, and connection uninterrupted by little ones screaming, “Mommy!” or “Daddy!” It makes sense, but what if you can’t imagine life without the little ones? What if you want all that drama? It’s certainly something for you and your partner to talk about.

If you are physically unable to have children, maybe this video will offer some consolation.

Let’s talk about it here, too. What is your response to this video? Would you show it to your partner? What would he/she say? If you were to make a list of reasons why you should get married and HAVE children, what would it include? I’m so glad you all are here to talk about this stuff.

For more on Kimberly, visit her Instagram site: https://www.instagram.com/kimberlyfisher.cf/ or her YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/ChildfreeKimberly

Without Children, We Need to Find Different Milestones

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, life events , , , ,

Milestones mark the seasons of our lives. They come quickly when we’re young: first teeth, first words, first steps, preschool, kindergarten, puberty, driving, graduation, first job, leaving home, falling in love. Traditionally, marriage and children would follow. But if we were living that traditional life, we wouldn’t be reading this blog, right?

Merriam-Webster defines a milestone as either an actual stone marking a milepost in the road (we have green numbered signs here in Oregon) or a significant point in development, such as graduating from college. I interpret that as meaning something changes at that moment. It’s a turning point. But if we don’t have children, what changes, aside from getting old? Where are our milepost markers?

Our parenting peers mark their adult years with their children’s progression through the milestones of their lives. You know you’re fully an adult when someone is calling you “Mom” or “Dad,” and you know you’re getting older when a little one calls you “Nana” or “Papa.” You know you’re truly old when your first great-grandchildren are born. For each child, you note the milestones, the first steps, graduations, weddings, and babies. As for your own milestones, what’s left except retirement and Medicare?

I don’t feel as old as the numbers say I am. I don’t feel as old as people my age who have children and grandchildren. Although the mirror tells me otherwise, in some ways, I’m a perpetual child. I’m not complaining. I like that. But sometimes my life feels kind of formless without the framework of a family progressing through their lives. I’m not “Mom” or “Nana.” I’m still just “Sue.”

So how do those of us without children mark off the years? Romantic relationships? Career achievements? Places we have lived? Trips we have taken? Concerts we attended? The year we put a new roof on the house?

Do we mark the years when we were fat, skinny, blond or brunette? Or do we go by what was happening in the world: 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, Obama elected president, Covid-19?

I find myself marking time by the losses. That’s when I was diagnosed with Graves’ Disease. That’s when we moved to Oregon. That’s when my mother died. That’s when my father had heart surgery. That’s when my husband moved to the nursing home.

Aside from my age and the people who are gone, my life is the same as it was 10 and 20 years ago. I’m still sitting here at my desk, writing. How do I mark the passing years?

It’s your turn. What are your milestones if you never have children? Maybe we can make a list.

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