childless

In Conclusion: My Childless by Marriage Commencement Address

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless blogs, childless by marriage, Jody Day, Love or Children, talk about childlessness , , , , , , , , , , ,

Well, my friends, this is the last post. As far as I know. If I get itchy to write something new, I will. For now, Childless by Marriage is changing focus, not going away.

This is still the only space that is all about being childless because your partner can’t or won’t have babies with you. You are not necessarily infertile. You could have sons and daughters if you were with someone else. Information about fostering, adopting or any other birth alternative is irrelevant if your partner doesn’t want kids in the first place.

In a world where most people become parents, you will be surrounded by people who don’t understand your situation. I hope this blog has helped you to deal with the clueless questions and suggestions.

You may grieve the loss of the children you’ll never have or feel relieved that it worked out this way. You may shed a tear when you watch others with their children or cheer when you’re free to do things parents can only dream of. These emotions won’t go away, but they will change as you age and focus on other things. The hardest part is when you’re still fertile and your friends are all having babies while you’re not. I remember that part all too well. Your body is screaming “Do something!” and you can’t.

We have things in common with both those who are physically unable to conceive or bear children and those who have chosen to be childfree. But this is our space. We are the ones who chose love over babies.

If you want to keep up the conversation, come to the Childless by Marriage Facebook page. We can even start a private group there if you’re worried about other people reading your comments. Just let me know. I’m also on Instagram–@suefagaldelick. Find all my connections at my website, https://www.suelick.com, or email me at sufalick@gmail.com.

These days, much of my attention is going to my “Can I Do It Alone” Substack and eventual book. Aging alone is a natural extension of being childless by marriage. When the marriage ends by death or divorce, you may find yourself with no family. Your parents and aunts and uncles will die. Your siblings and cousins may live far away or be too busy to hang out with you.

While others have their children and grandchildren for company, you will have yourself and maybe a dog or cat. People don’t talk enough about this result of not having children, so I’m doing my best to shine a light on all its glories and dark places.

I will continue to be active in the childless community. In fact, I will be part of the next Childless Elderwomen Fireside Chat, happening September 20 as part of World Childless Week. The theme is “We are Worthy.” Register here to attend live or receive the recording later.

Do consider getting involved in World Childless Week, Sept. 15-21, all online. It offers many workshops, panel discussions, and opportunities to share your own story. Some of the sessions will not apply to you if you are not dealing with infertility. Skip those and attend the ones that fit.

If you’re struggling with your childless-by-marriage situation, don’t keep it a secret. In my mother’s day, no one discussed why certain people never had children. But there is nothing to be ashamed of. It helps to talk about it. Share how you feel with your family and friends. They may be more understanding than you expect. If they say hurtful things—that you must hate children, or that you should leave your partner—set them straight. Stand by your choices. Stand by your man or woman.

Explain that there is more than one way to lead a good life. Children are terrific, but everyone doesn’t have to have them. It’s all right to explain you really wanted them, if you did. But your life is still full of wonderful things.

If they get it, they get it. If they don’t, let it go.

When you encounter other childless people, invite them to get together for coffee, a play date at the dog park, or whatever sounds like fun. 

Also talk to your partner, not just once but often, about how this situation affects you. Don’t hide your feelings or let them fester. You may not change their minds or change the circumstances that have led to being childless, but don’t treat it like a secret that should not be discussed. Listen to your partner, too. Their feelings count as much as yours.

If you play a parent-like role as a stepparent, aunt, uncle, foster parent, or teacher, try to love others’ children like your own, whether they love you back or not. Even if you never create your own family, you can play a mother or father role in the world. We all need older people to love us, guide us, and show us how to live well.

Thank you all for reading this blog over the years. Some of you have been commenting for over a decade. Others just read, sometimes hiding it from their partner. I know you’re out there. Here’s a big hug to one and all.

If you want to keep reading about the childless/childfree life, visit my resource list at https://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com/childless-by-marriage-home-page. I will keep updating it.

Jody Day recently published a long list of related blogs at https://gateway-women.com/resources/recommended-blogs. Do check that out.

More and more terrific writers are blogging or Substacking about life without children. For a start, see Ali Hall’s “Life Without Children,” the No Mo Book Club, Kate Kaufmann’s blog, and Andy Harrod’s https://invisiblechildlessness.substack.com.

Of course, I’d love for you to read my books, Childless by Marriage and Love or Children: When You Can’t Have Both.

I am still and always will be childless by marriage. It has affected every bit of my life, as I’m sure it has yours. If you want to talk, I’m here.

See you soon.

Love,

Sue

‘You Don’t Have Children? Why, Why, Why?’

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childfree-by-choice, childless, why don't you have children, why not just adopt? , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Have you heard people without children called selfish? I know I have.

People make assumptions. You don’t have children because you can’t be bothered caring for them. You don’t want to spend the money or the time. You want to travel or rise in the corporate world. You’re a “career gal.” You hate kids. You’re selfish.

Most of these assumptions are wrong, and they hurt, especially if you wanted children and were not able to have them. Even if you’re childless by choice, you have your reasons, which may not be selfish at all.

We’re forever being asked to justify our situation even though it’s nobody else’s business. Maria Garcia wrote a guest post about this for the Substack “Life Without Children” and also spoke about it in a live interview with Substack author Ali Hall.

Garcia, 30, hasn’t decided yet whether or not to have children, but she was struck by a conversation with her cousin in which the cousin labeled as selfish a younger woman who said she didn’t want children. The cousin has been struggling with infertility, so the subject is a touchy one for her.

Following that conversation, Garcia came upon an Instagram post that offered “One Hundred Reasons Not to Have Children.” Some of those reasons were frivolous—so much laundry—but Garcia and Hall both agree that we shouldn’t have to justify our choices. “When “I say I just don’t want them,” Hall says, people should accept that. “We are so much more than our reproductive status.”

Garcia adds, “We complement each other in our differences. We don’t have to all do the same thing.”

I highly recommend Garcia’s article, “Motherhood, Choice, and the Endless Need for Justifications.” as well as the video you will find at the same site.

In our Childless by Marriage world, trying to justify our situation gets complicated and uncomfortable. If we’re the one who wouldn’t/couldn’t have a baby, we have our reasons but certainly don’t want to discuss them every time people discover we are not parents. And if we have chosen to stick with a partner who wouldn’t/couldn’t, we face other challenges. Why do you stay with them? He could have his vasectomy reversed. You could adopt. You would make such a good mother or father. How can you give that up?

People who assume everybody has kids may think you have buckets of money and endless freedom to live as perpetual children. That’s so not true. Kids or not, we are adults with adult responsibilities.

Do you find yourself justifying, defending, explaining, often to folks who don’t get it, who think if you REALLY wanted children, you would have them, so it must be your fault? I know I do. People are full of what we woulda coulda shoulda done, but we have to live our own lives, which may not include children.

If you Google “reasons not to have children,” you can spend all day reading the various lists, but the truth is it’s nobody’s business but your own, whether it’s a choice, a painful non-choice, or something in between. We all react based on our own biases and experiences.

Do you find people demanding to know why you don’t have children—and then telling you why you’re wrong?

Let’s talk about it in the comments.

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Childless stand out when surrounded by children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless and baby pictures, envying families with children, family as code for children, traveling alone , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends:

I live in a childfree bubble. I had to get away from my home on the Oregon coast to see that. Where I live, hanging out mostly with people over 60, I just don’t see a lot of children. Sure, my friends will show off photos of their grandkids, and sometimes they jet off to spend time with them, but day to day, no kids.

Traveling around the Southwestern United States has shown me what many of you see as you negotiate your childless lives wherever you live. 

I’m currently staying in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are kids everywhere, in the restaurants, in the hotel elevator, dominating the swimming pool, and at every tourist attraction. In this multicultural city, children of every color follow their parents and siblings like ducks. 

Last night at a JC Penney restroom, four kids and their mother filled all the stalls, yelling to each other in Spanish, voices amplified by the tile walls. I encountered the same children in the dressing room, banging on doors and laughing as I tried on pants. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to behave. 

Mean old gringa lady. 

I want to be the nice elderly woman children love, but sometimes I feel more like a witch. I’m just not used to kids. 

I spent a few days in Tucson, Arizona, staying with a cousin at her deluxe retirement home. While she was at church, I tried to write. An electronic photo frame nearby kept changing pictures, almost all of them of my cousin’s only grandchild. Cute kid, even more precious because she was adopted after her parents could not conceive, but I got tired of looking at her. If I had my own children, would I have that warm squishy feeling mothers seem to get when they see little ones, the feeling I get with dogs? 

My cousin’s daughter and granddaughter visit often. They travel together. The daughter helps with financial and technical things. When she moved to this home, the daughter and two stepsons did most of the work. 

When she told me that, I kept silent, but I was thinking, gee that must be nice. If/when I decide to move to a home for old folks, I’ll be doing the work myself or paying someone to help. 

As I struggled to sleep on the child-sized big-girl bed in the guest room, with toys stashed in the closet and under the bed, I felt like a perpetual child myself. 

I’m not complaining. Just noticing. My life is so very different. I’m obsessed with my writing and music; they’re obsessed with their families. They have Christmas photos of the whole gang in matching pajamas. I have selfies or pictures of my dog. 

If you are childless and find yourself in a culture where everyone seems to have children, you may find yourself not mentioning your childless state unless asked directly about your kids. You keep it to yourself, aware that saying you never had children can be like saying you’re a Democrat in a room full of Republicans. What? You never had children? They may not say it out loud, but now you’re branded as the childless one. You’re definitely the odd one if you’re traveling alone like me.

As I signed the guest book at a museum the other day, I noticed all the visitors before me were family groups, the Smiths, the Fisher family, etc. I saw no other single names. I signed my name, paid my donation, and moved on. What else can you do? 

Yesterday morning in Albuquerque, I found a seat away from the crowd in the breakfast room and watched the traffic go by. So many mothers, fathers, and kids, the children following like sheep or bounding ahead demanding pancakes or Lucky Charms. The parents could not relax with their own food because they had to help the kids, but I don’t think they minded. They moved and ate as a family. Later, they left the hotel rolling their big and little suitcases, and it looked so nice to be part of a family. 

But oh, my tea and my cinnamon roll slathered with butter tasted so good. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else as I finished quickly and hurried upstairs to write undisturbed.

Outside the elevator, I ran into a couple with a gorgeous German shepherd that dashed up to sniff me. She knew I was a dog mom, not a mother of little humans. I wanted to bury my face in her lush fur.

I am learning so much on this trip, part work and part vacation. 

Sometimes you can’t get away from the big division between you and the parenting people. It isn’t always a bad thing, but it is a thing. 

Are you surrounded by children where you live? Or do you find them when you travel? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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How Will It Be for the Childless Under President Trump?

Sue Fagalde Lick abortion and childlessness, childfree, childless, childless not by choice , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It has been a week since the man who said childless cat ladies were miserable and didn’t have a stake in the future of the country and the man who helped shut down abortion access to millions of American women were elected as our incoming vice president and president.

I don’t usually talk politics here, and I will delete comments debating what’s good or bad about Donald Trump or Kamala Harris or dissing me because I voted blue or anyone else for voting red, but I am worried about what this means for all of us.

As Democratic vice-presidential candidate Tim Walz said about abortion, IVF, and other reproductive concerns, “it’s nobody’s damn business.” I agree. It’s between a woman and her partner.

Since the US Supreme Court voted down the national right to abortion in the Dobbs decision in 2022, numerous states have outlawed the procedure, forcing pregnant women to travel long distances or do without the care they needed. As is frequently testified in the liberal press, these are not all women who simply don’t want to have a baby. They are victims of rape or incest or have medical issues that require ending much-desired pregnancies.

While Trump has said he won’t outlaw IVF or birth control, his administration could make it more difficult to access reproductive assistance. It might limit insurance coverage for contraception. Will it be more difficult to get a vasectomy or a hysterectomy? I hope not.

It’s possible we’re crying “the sky is falling” when nothing will actually change from the way it is right now, at least not legally.

But attitudes seem to have changed. We hear more people insisting that those of us without children are defying the laws of God and nature. They don’t understand that most of us didn’t choose not to have children. For many different reasons, the parenting path was not open to us, and it breaks our hearts. To have to defend ourselves on top of that painful loss against people who just don’t get it does not seem fair.

Then again, is that any different than it was before?

I have been watching “The Golden Bachelorette” on TV. The finale was last night. I won’t spoil it for you if you haven’t watched it yet. At last week’s “Men Tell All” episode, every single “bachelor” had his children in the audience. Joan, the 61-year-old bachelorette, is very vocal about her devotion to her children and grandchildren. And that’s great, but I wonder if childless applicants were intentionally screened out of being on the show?

If I were on the “Bachelorette,” I wouldn’t have any offspring in the audience. I probably wouldn’t have anyone. They wouldn’t choose a chubby old writer like me, and I wouldn’t do it anyway, but still, the lack of childless people is noticeable.

We can second-guess the election results. Maybe Harris talked too much about abortion and not enough about the economy. Maybe she just didn’t have enough time after President Biden withdrew from the race. Maybe our country is still not ready for a woman president, especially one who is a stepmother but never gave birth to her own children. Maybe voters just like Trump better. Maybe Americans really do want to go back to a more traditional time. I don’t know.

I don’t want to talk about who voted for what, but I do want to ask: How are you? Are you worried about being childless in this new America? Did your childlessness have anything to do with how you voted? Did the US election spark fights between you and your partner or others close to you? Let’s talk about it, lovingly please.

Photo by Nesrin u00d6ztu00fcrk on Pexels.com–She looks happy!

Further reading:

“People around the world are appalled by Trump’s win, but women have been gripped by a visceral horror” | Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett | The Guardian

“What Trump has said about birth control, and what he could do as president” – Good Morning America

Visit My Substack

If you like Childless by Marriage, consider reading my “Can I Do It Alone” Substack at https://suelick.substack.com.

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As non-parents, are we still kids at heart?

Sue Fagalde Lick Chatty Cathy, childless, childless on Halloween, childless women playing with dolls, playing with dolls , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was dressing my Chatty Cathy doll the other night when—

What? Are you surprised a 72-year-old woman is dressing a doll from the 1960s? Well, I was. She’s more of a vintage artifact these days, but she’s still with me, watching over my office from atop a tall storage cabinet. This was the doll who spoke when you pulled the string behind her neck, saying things like “I’m hungry” or “I love you.” Now she just says “aaaaarrrrgh.”

Unlike most of the dolls my family bought me, she wasn’t brown-eyed and black-haired like me. This girl’s a blue-eyed blonde, about eighteen inches tall, pudgy-kneed and rosy-cheeked. She’s one of the few my mother didn’t give away when she decided I was too old to play with dolls.

I have an authentic Chatty Cathy storage chest loaded with clothing for all seasons and all occasions. We bought some official Chatty Cathy outfits, but my mother made most of her extensive wardrobe one summer while I was away visiting my grandparents on the coast. She must have sewed night and day on my grandmother’s old treadle-powered machine to make so many little dresses, pants, aprons, hats, and coats in such a short time. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me, and I still treasure them, along with the letter she wrote to me, talking about what she and Dad were up to and how much she missed me.

Photo shows a vintage Chatty Cathy doll, blonde and blue-eyed, wearing a red and black plaid coat and a matching cap.

Back to 2024. Here on the Oregon coast, the rainy season has begun, and Chatty Cathy was wearing only a thin summer dress. As I put on her red flannel coat and hat, slipping them over her plastic arms, I thought about how this was like dressing a child, the child I never had. I thought about how my mother would never get to make little dresses for a real daughter of mine. That daughter might play with my old dolls and destroy them. Or she might shun them for the newer dolls that are softer and do more things. Maybe she wouldn’t play with dolls at all.

My brother does have a daughter, but they lived at a distance, and Mom never got to spend much time with her. Cancer took my mother too soon for her to enjoy my brother’s three beautiful grandchildren.

If I had given birth on what was the expected schedule back in the 1970s, so much would have been different. By now, I might be the grandmother or even great-grandmother making or buying little garments and slipping them over pudgy arms and legs, talking to the little ones as I did it.

Did I talk to Chatty Cathy as I dressed her? Of course. I talk to tea kettles and slugs, pine trees and blue jays. I probably wouldn’t be talking to everything like a crazy person if I didn’t live alone, but as it turns out, I didn’t have children, and Chatty Cathy outlasted ten homes, two marriages, a divorce and widowhood. Tough doll, that one. So, I told her about how the weather folks were forecasting a cold, wet winter and she needed to dress warmly. She just blinked her eyes at me.

I often think I’m still able to play like a child because I didn’t have a child. I didn’t age through the generations the way mothers and fathers do. I’m a motherless and fatherless daughter with no one coming up behind me, just great-nieces and nephews off to the side. When I have the chance, not often enough, I’m happy to get down and play with them as if I weren’t the aged aunt.

Meanwhile, Halloween is this week. It can be difficult watching parents dress their little ones in costumes and take them out trick-or-treating. If we can’t hitch on to someone else’s kids, we don’t get to play this time.

Social media will be filled with pictures of children, babies, and maybe a few dogs and cats dressed as ghosts, witches, superheroes, or something else I don’t know about. If you can join in the fun somehow, go for it. If it hurts too much, stay off the Internet and go to the movies until all the kids are snug in their beds.

This week at my Substack, I talk about comparing our lives to other people’s lives. That certainly applies here, too. When we look at others having babies and doing things with their growing kids, we can feel left out and sad, even when we feel all right most of the time. It’s normal. Allow yourself to feel jealous for a little while, then shake it off and move on. Everyone has both hardships and blessings, whether they have children or don’t.

Meanwhile, if you still have your old dolls or other toys, you don’t have to share them. But don’t play with them in front of other grown-ups. They might not understand.

Do you feel younger than your peers because you don’t have children? Have you saved remnants of your childhood that you take out from time to time?

How are you dealing with Halloween?

Button up; it’s getting colder, and next week’s U.S. election is coming like a hurricane.

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The Womb is Not Our Only Source of Creation

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, mother energy, other ways to mother, poem by Sue Fagalde Lick, poems about childlessness , , , , , , , , , ,

“It’s Not that I Can’t Have Children” is the title of a poem by Kai Coggin that was featured at poets.org recently. It really caught my attention. I think so many of us can identify with it. For copyright reasons, I can’t reproduce the whole thing here, but I encourage you to read it.

The poet speaks of the ways her womb could have been a home for children but never was, and yet she has been a mother in many ways.

I love these lines:

But perhaps that proverbial ship has sailed,
and the life that I have created
is the life I have      the life I love.
Perhaps my womb has turned outward somehow
and my heart is fertility itself.

Isn’t that beautiful? “The life I have created is the life I love.” Think about that. Can you treasure the life you have right now, not calling yourself “less” anything but full of all that you are and all that you need?

“My heart is fertility itself.” This can mean that we plant seeds and grow all kinds of things, literal things like flowers and vegetables but also ideas and projects and love. For me, it’s books and music, which the readers and listeners take in and then create something of their own.

We may not have children, but that doesn’t mean we’re idle, that we don’t do anything. The things we make, the things we do, the love we give, wherever we give it—it all counts.

Coggin concludes:

I mother other kingdoms,
rock every other species to sleep--
the green and howl and pulse and bloom.

It's not that I can't have children,
it's that I already do.

Yes. We use our mothering energy in all kinds of ways, whether it’s with pets, partners, parents, friends, students, or through volunteer work. We use it with the flowers we nurture in our gardens and the birds we rescue when they fall. We use it when we clean up litter or fight for clean air and water or assist others with whatever they need, whether it’s a babysitter or help rebuilding after a hurricane.

We mother. And we father.

And it’s okay.

I know not everyone likes poetry, but I find that sometimes a poem can say in a few words what is impossible to express in a whole book. If you’d like to read one of mine, here at the blog in 2017, I posted this poem about being surrounded by grandmothers: “Sunday Brunch with the Grandmas.”

I welcome your thoughts.

Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

More to Read

“The Son I’ll Never Have” by Mark Wunderlich

I Will Bear This Scar: Poems of Childless Women, edited by Marietta Bratton. Nearly twenty years old but still beautiful.

Nulligravida, poems and essays by Saralyn Caine—just arrived in my mailbox, but it looks goods.

Bearing Life: Women’s Writings on Childlessness, edited by Rochelle Ratner. This book includes poetry and prose about life without children.

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Childless, childfree: Does Either Word Really Fit?

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childless, childless by choice, World Childless Week , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Childless. How does that word feel to you? Comfortable or not quite right, like the dress I ordered online and might have to return because it doesn’t allow enough room for my bust?

Do you call yourself childless? I use it in the name of this blog, but there are a lot of people who bristle at the term.

Child-less. It implies we’re missing something. Our life is less than it might otherwise be. But can’t our lives be full of wonderful things without children?

People who have chosen not to have children often call themselves childfree. They emphasize the freedom of a life without children to care for, as if kids were a heavy load they don’t have to carry.

I could claim the childfree term, too. I mean, even if I expected to have children and grieve that I didn’t, I don’t have the obligations of parenting. I am therefore free. Right?

I don’t know. The whole concept makes me squirm.

Here’s another question: if you are still young enough and fertile enough that having a child is possible, albeit unlikely, when do you declare that you are childless or childfree? If you have had a hysterectomy or had your tubes tied, you have a definite answer. No kids. But what if it’s still a possibility? How do you classify yourself when you’re not certain if this is forever?

What if your partner is happily childfree but you feel childless?

Neither of these terms is comfortable for everyone. Other terms have been suggested: not-mom, nonparent, or nomo (not mother). But they’re all “not” something.

In medical terms, a woman who has not given birth is nulliparous. I don’t know what doctors call a man who has not fathered a child. Just a man, I suppose. This article in Psychology Today calls them “non-dads.”

For men, sometimes there’s the snide addition “as far as we know,” implying one or more of their sperm might have hit home during their various sexual liaisons.

Wikipedia defines childlessness as the state of not having children. They break down the reasons for childlessness: infertility, ob-gyn problems, mental health difficulties, chronic illness/disability, lack of a partner or same-sex partner, social or legal barriers, economic or social pressure to pursue career before children, lack of resources, insufficient money, lack of access to medical care, jobs commitments, unwillingness of one’s partner to conceive or raise children, and death of one’s conceived children before birth or after.

Childfree, says Wikipedia, refers to people who choose not to have children.

Rachel Chrastil, author of the book How to Be Childless: A History and Philosophy of Life Without Children, wrote in another Psychology Today article, “I define someone as childless if they never had a biological child and have never been deeply involved in raising a child, whether through legal adoption or otherwise.”

She says she calls herself childless “with the caveat that I don’t view the absence of children as a deficit to be overcome.”

In an article at She Defined.com, Donna Carlton defines childfree as making a conscious decision not to have children and childless as a situation where the person wanted to have children but was not able to and thus “the decision is out of their hands.”

That sounds pretty black and white, but it’s not. Judy Graham, counselor and founder of WomenHood, a support service for childless Australian women, says that sometimes women move from defining themselves as childless to childfree as they get older and realize they prefer life without children.

I call myself childless in my writing, but when people in real life broach the subject, I don’t say, “I’m childless.” I say, “I never had any children.” Or “I don’t have any kids.” Then, as we have all experienced, the conversation stalls out, or the other person says something dumb, like, “I wish I never did” or “You can have mine” or “You’re lucky.” If you’re younger, you probably hear, “There’s still time” or “Don’t wait too long.”

I don’t know about you, but I often feel driven to explain how I really did want children but was not able to have them. Sometimes I say, “God had other plans.” Although the real reason is that both my husbands were unwilling, I never put the blame on them. Usually, I just change the subject.

To be one hundred percent honest, sometimes it hurts like hell that I don’t have children and grandchildren, and other times, it’s okay. Where’s the term for that?

I started thinking about this during the recent World Childless Week, where, of course, “childness” is part of the name. Many of those involved are childless due to infertility, which was not my situation. But I attend because however you got to not having children, the bottom line is you don’t have them.

Childless. How does that word feel to you? Comfortable or not right, like the dress that didn’t allow enough room for my bust?

Photo by Leeloo The First on Pexels.com

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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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If We Don’t Have Kids, What Else Can We Give Our Parents?

Sue Fagalde Lick art instead of babies, childless, no grandchildren, not giving your parents grandchildren , , , , , , , , , ,
Playing for my grandparents in 1990

I’m going to share an embarrassing part of my past today. Maybe you’ll identify with my younger self.

I used to write a lot of songs. I performed and recorded many of them, some for public consumption, some just for me. I was listening to one of my old tapes (yes, cassette tape) from the mid-1980s and came across this song called “Mama Be Proud.” It’s a terrible song. I hope I didn’t play it for anybody else back then.

I wrote it in my early years with Fred, when I was still trying to accept that by marrying him, I would never have children.

My mother was the best. She never nagged me about having grandchildren. She never said, “Why don’t you find someone else?” or “Why don’t you adopt?” or “How could you not give me any grandchildren?” She may have thought those things, but she never said them. She and my dad loved Fred and were happy I had found someone good after the first marriage blew up.

As for Fred’s parents, they already had more grandchildren than they could keep track of, so it was fine with them.

But still, I felt guilty. Raised when I was, I knew the two things I could do to make my parents proud were 1. Find a good husband and 2. Have children. I suppose keeping a clean and orderly house might be number 3. I was trained to be a clone of my mom. I needed to keep the family line going. As for all the other things I was interested in doing, they didn’t really count as much in my family. But those other things were all I had to offer.

Thus I came to write this song in which I begged my mother to accept my music as a replacement for grandchildren.

Here’s the chorus:

I could write you a ballad to comfort your old age,

I could write you a jig to make your heart dance.

I could pass on your name in a hundred sweet songs.

Mama, please love me. Mama, be proud.

Gag, right? Actually the tune is pretty good, but the words make me cringe, both because they’re so smarmy and because I was so needy of my parents’ approval. They didn’t support my music and writing much, but I have to say that on my 50th birthday, my mother made the most beautiful speech about how proud she was of my accomplishments.  

A while later, my cousin dropped my birthday cake in the parking lot. Splat. Isn’t real life fun?

Mom died of cancer three months later. In the end, I think it wasn’t so much that I was letting her down as that she was worried I might end up alone. That’s why she and Dad were so glad when I married Fred. But you can’t know what’s going to happen in the future.

I tell you all this to suggest that maybe I’m not the only one who feels like we’re letting our parents down, like we’re failing to live up to their expectations. The ultimate decision about having children is between us and our partner–and our bodies, but do you sometimes think that if you don’t have kids, you’re blowing it and nothing else you do will be good enough?

Or is it a good thing that I’m about to start seeing a new shrink? 🙂

Let me close with some thoughts from a book that was so gripping I read the whole thing last Saturday. In Flesh & Blood, a memoir about childlessness and a troublesome uterus, author N. West Moss writes on p. 229, “I’ve always felt that I let Grandma Hastings down (in particular) by not having kids because it is the end of not just my own story but of her hard-fought story as well, and of her mother’s and her mother’s . . . . My hope is that writing them down here will cast her line into the future, will be my attempt at securing her story, and possibly mine as well.”

But she concludes toward the end, “I know I’m not technically fertile or anything, but shit, I feel fertile, feel overflowing with ideas and love for the world. I stick a sprig of mint in a glass by the sink and two days later, there are roots reaching an inch into the water. I do the same with a branch of basil from the grocery store. Same thing. Having kids is one kind of fertility, but it’s dawning on me that there’s more than one way to be fruitful.” p. 245

[Trigger warning about this book. If you are planning to have a hysterectomy in the near future, you might not want to read this yet.]

What do you think? Are we letting the family down by not having children? Do we struggle to make up for it in other ways? Please share your comments.

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What Do the Childless and Childfree Have in Common?

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childless, childless women in old age, questions about having children , , , , , , ,

A friend who never wanted to have children said the other night that she knew I wrote about childlessness, but that had nothing to do with her because she chose not to have children. But we actually have quite a lot in common, I said. When I started naming some of those things, she responded, “I never thought of that.” 

Let’s think about it today. How do the childfree and the childless differ and what do we have in common? 

The obvious difference is that the “childfree” have chosen not to be parents. Their reasons vary. They want their freedom, they don’t think they’d be good parents, they can’t afford it, they’re giving their all to their career, or they’re doing their part to save the planet from overpopulation. They reject the term “childless” because they don’t feel “less” anything. 

The childless also come to their state in different ways, from infertility to disability to lack of a willing partner. Some spend years trying and failing to give birth. Some agonize over whether to leave their partner and try on their own or with someone new. They grieve the loss of the life they might have had. They dream about having babies and ache when they see families with children. They do feel “less” a great deal.

These two groups sound very different. But there is a gray area. Some of us chose partners we knew would not give us children. Consciously or not, we made a choice. In some cases, we may even come to feel “childfree.”

What do we have in common? More than you might think. 

  • Most of us do not hate children. We may or may not want to be raising them, but we find them lovable and entertaining and don’t mind hanging out with them.
  • We get bombarded with questions and comments, particularly in our fertile years. “When are you going to have children?” “Why don’t you have children?” “You’ll change your mind.” “Who’s going to take care of you in old age?” “You’re not getting any younger.”
  • We find that our old friends are so preoccupied with their children and later their grandchildren that they don’t have time for us. Besides, they have new friends they met at their children’s schools, soccer team, ballet classes, etc., friends with whom they have more in common now. 
  • We have more freedom because our lives are not tied to the school schedule unless we work in the schools. We never need a babysitter, although we may need a pet-sitter.
  • People ask us how many children we have because it doesn’t occur to them we might not have any. 
  • We worry about who will care for us in old age. My friend is in the process of setting up her will and advance directives. Single and childfree, she is not sure whom to entrust with her health-care and financial decisions when she is incapacitated. She has half-siblings whom she does not feel close to. I have a brother I love dearly, and I have given him the power on all my documents, but I know we think differently about some things. Will he do what I want in the end? What happens if he dies first? 
  • We all hate Mother’s Day. 

A few years ago, I attended the NotMom Summit in Cleveland. NotMom founder Karen Malone Wright had the radical idea that women who are not mothers, whether by choice or by chance, could congregate in an atmosphere of mutual love and acceptance. It worked beautifully. By the end, I had made new friends, some of whom never wanted to be moms. I sat with one of these new friends on the plane ride home and we talked all the way back to the West Coast about everything but motherhood. It was a joy, and we are still friends. The fact that we came to be NotMoms in different ways doesn’t matter. 

I don’t want to downplay the horrible pain of infertility or the rudeness of some people who are militantly anti-parenting, but we do have quite a bit in common, whether we’re childless by choice or not. As for those of us who are childless by marriage, aren’t we making a choice not to have children every day we stay with a partner who can’t or doesn’t want to give us children?

Let’s talk about it in the comments. What do the childless and childfree have in common? What is different?

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