grief over childlessness

Childless Not by Choice: The Grief is Never Completely Gone

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", childless grief, childless not by choice, grandma grief, grief over childlessness, grief triggers, Jody Day, never going to be a mother , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Red-haired woman crying. She's wearing wedding rings, has red nail polish and red lipstick, and is holding a tissue. No one is comforting her.

All it took was one word to break my heart again.

That word was “Mama.”

I was down in the dumps anyway as I took my usual walk down Cedar Street. A migraine had dogged me all weekend. I missed a music jam I was looking forward to. I was tired of being alone.

A German shepherd standing in a driveway reminded me of Annie and all the dogs I have lost, including Heidi, the German shepherd I lost along with my first marriage.

Then I passed these two little brown-haired boys, one maybe two years old, the other maybe six.

As the little one stared at me, the big one shouted, “He might call you ‘Mama.’”

And then he did. “Mama!”

Gulp. No one has ever called me Mama.

I smiled and waved. “I don’t mind,” I assured the older boy as tears threatened. “He’s cute.”

What? Like a puppy? It was a dumb thing to say.

I let the tears fall as soon I got out of their sight. The pain of never having children was just as bad 20 years past menopause as it was when I was 35.

That scarred place in my heart breaks every time this happens.

A couple weeks ago at church, I was playing the piano at Mass. The family close to me in the front row included an adorable toddler happily squeezed between her mother and grandmother. Black hair, brown skin, big eyes, dimples. If I had had a little girl, she would have looked a lot like this one, maybe not as brown, but she’d have the same black hair and brown eyes.

Grandma held a big cloth book while the child turned the pages.

Oh my God, I wanted to be one of those women. I wanted to hold that baby. But I never would. I had no claim to her.

All I could do was keep playing the piano.

Back on my walk, I was visiting a neighbor’s dogs a little later when the boys came down the street with an older girl. In trying to keep up, the little guy stumbled and fell. He was not hurt, but he looked at me and cried “Mama!” I kept petting the dogs while the girl scooped up her little brother. She was already a mother-in-training. I missed that class.  

I belong with the dogs, I told myself. I’m a dog person. I’m going to get another dog soon. I will feel better.

Why do I share this today? Because it still hurts. Because I want you to know that while you will feel okay most of the time about not having children and will build a good life without them, it’s still going to hurt when you least expect it. That scar is there, and it’s brittle.

As Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women and author of the book Living the Life Unexpected, likes to say, our pain is an unacknowledged, disenfranchised grief. When someone dies, it’s awful, but everyone sees and understands your loss. They hold you while you cry. They bring casseroles. They know it hurts and give you a break. When you get a divorce, lose a job, or crash your car, everybody sympathizes.

But not having children doesn’t seem to count. How can you grieve what you never had? Besides, they say, unless you were physically unable to bear children, you made the choices that led to this situation. Right? So get over it.

It’s not that easy. It will hurt sometimes. It’s okay. Cry, stomp, curse, whatever you have to do. Talk about it with people who might be sympathetic. Try to explain: When I hear the word Mama, it kills me.

It will pass. You’ll go on with the other wonderful things in your life. But it’s never gone.

Listen to Jody Day’s talk on Disenfranchised grief and know that those of us who experience this kind of grief are aware of your tears and your pain and acknowledge that it is real.

Are there words or situations that trigger your emotions? Do the people around you understand why you’re upset? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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I have a new Substack titled “Can I Do It Alone?” Since my first post on April 1, it has taken off like wildfire. See what all the fuss is about at https://open.substack.com/pub/suelick/p/introducing-can-i-do-it-alone?r=ejjy9&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

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Childless by Marriage Blog Marks a Milestone and Looks Ahead

Sue Fagalde Lick Childless by Marriage blog, Childless by Marriage book, childless women, grief over childlessness, grieving over childlessness
Dear friends,
Last week, we passed 100,000 page views. As of this moment, we’re up to 100,521. That seems like a milestone to celebrate. Yes, other blogs get millions of visitors, but ours is a special group, and I am grateful for every one of you. On an average day, we get about 250 visitors. Readers come from all over the English-speaking world, as well as from countries where most people don’t speak English. They find us via Google and other search engines, as well as Facebook, other sites about childlessness, and direct referral from friends.
The comments tell stories of women and men who are hurting and searching for answers. They wanted to have children, but they are in situations where it may not happen. In many cases, their spouses have decided they don’t want to have children, and they don’t know what to do. Sometimes the spouse is reluctant and then a physical problem ends the discussion in sorrow.
I have gotten the most comments in response to posts about grief. Just this morning, I approved two that both tell the same heartbreaking story from different perspectives. You can see them here. (Scroll to the end of the comments.) These anonymous women are 42 and 64 years old, but both are in so much pain they don’t know how they can stand it. I wish I had the magic words to make the pain go away. Perhaps some of you can offer some hope to these women.
I’ve been doing this blog for six years. It’s hard to believe. And no, I’m not quitting. Part of its purpose has always been to promote my Childless by Marriage book. I would like everyone to buy it. But the blog has grown into a special place of its own that goes far beyond the 300 pages of my book.
To post at least once a week for so long requires a little research, considerable stretching of the creative muscles, and occasional inspiration from above. Sometimes when I think I have nothing to say, God drops a story into my hands. Sometimes you, my readers, give me ideas with your comments and e-mails. It seems there is always more to say on this subject.
I’m working on a project to reconnect with the women I interviewed for my book. In some cases, more than a decade has passed, and I think it would be helpful to all of us to find out how their stories turned out. Did they ever have children? Are they still with the man they were with at the time? Have they found peace with their childless situation? Do they have regrets? The first responses have started coming in, and I look forward to sharing them with you here. (If anyone reading this was interviewed for the book and has not received an email from me, I may not have your current address. Please contact me at sufalick@gmail.com.)
Right now census figures show that one-fifth of American women have reached menopause without having children. That number is increasing. By the time today’s women of childbearing age are 45, I suspect it will be more like a fourth or even a third who never become mothers. But right now, I know lots of us feel left out, misunderstood and alone. We are not alone. Thank you all for being here, and please keep coming back.
Hugs,
Sue

We are entitled to grieve for the children we never had

Sue Fagalde Lick grief over childlessness, grieving the loss of children

In nearly 300 posts at this blog, the one that has engendered the most comments is is a two-paragraph entry I posted in 2007. Titled “Are You Grieving Over Your Lack of Children?” it quotes a newspaper article about a woman dealing with childless grief, then asks the readers, “Have you come to terms with not having children?” We’re up to 98 comments so far, with new ones coming almost every day.

Clearly grief is a big issue for us. People who are not in our situation don’t seem to get it. They’ll tell us “oh well, you can adopt” or “the world has too many people in it anyway” or “get over it” or even “sometimes I wish I didn’t have any kids.”

It’s not that easy, is it? When we want children and we don’t get to have them, we have lost something huge. In some ways, it’s like a death. We have lost the children we would have had, along with the grandchildren and great-grandchildren. If we hang up stockings at Christmas, there will be only two–or one if we’re single. When we see someone cuddling their new baby, we feel pain. At all the times when our parenting friends celebrate the milestones in their children’s lives, we feel left out.

Yes, there are advantages as well as losses to life without children. We are free to do things we couldn’t do if we were raising children. We miss a lot of heartache and frustration along with the good times. And yes, we can be beloved aunts or uncles, teachers or friends to other people’s kids.

However, we have a right to grieve. And the grief will come back again and again, like any big loss. Does it get easier with time? Yes. Being past menopause has helped a lot. But the grief never completely goes away. Just last night, I found myself crying over a TV show where a baby was born. Again!

All I’m saying is we’re entitled to feel the loss of the children we might have had.

I welcome your comments.