Sue Fagalde Lick

Are We Avoiding the Tough Childless Conversations?

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My new book, a memoir titled No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, came out on Tuesday. 

Publicity is a big part of publishing a book. I have been doing interviews and podcasts, including an interview yesterday online with the marvelous Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women. I hope you will watch the recording and consider buying my book.

See what I just did? Marketing. But that’s not what I want to discuss today. Reviewers and interviewers frequently bring up my childless situation and how Fred didn’t want to have children with me. Some make him sound like a selfish person who didn’t care about me, and that’s not fair. He was terrific. But he was older and had already raised three children. At 48, he didn’t want to start again. I understand that now. 

But we didn’t talk about it nearly as much as we should have. Our June 19 Childless Elderwomen panel discussion, also led by Jody Day, was about “Courageous Conversations” and how we often shy away from discussing tough topics with family and friends. One of those conversations I dodged was the one with Fred about having children. When he said he didn’t want any more children, I said, “You don’t?” and pretty much let it go. 

I had been divorced for several years, dated some unsuitable men who would have happily impregnated me, and finally decided I would be alone forever. Then came Fred. Our love was so good I didn’t want to do anything to spoil it. He knew I had not had children. We talked about adoption. We talked about reversing his vasectomy. But when he said he didn’t want any more children, the conversation ended. 

Why didn’t I ask why? Why didn’t I insist that I have my own chance at motherhood? Why didn’t I make it a dealbreaker? Because I was afraid to lose him. Now, so many years later, I suspect that if I had insisted, he would have given in. I don’t know how we would have done it, but we would have. He paid for my master’s degree. He paid for our trip to Portugal so I could research my book. He spoiled me rotten. I know he felt bad when I grieved on Mother’s Day. But he didn’t offer to make me a mom, and I didn’t insist. 

Even if he hadn’t had a vasectomy, I don’t know if he could have gotten me pregnant. His first two kids were adopted. It took Fred and his first wife 17 years to have a surprise baby of their own. Then he rushed into a vasectomy. I should have asked a lot more about their troubles conceiving and pressed harder to find out why he didn’t want more kids. I should have asked why he spent so little time with the kids he had. He didn’t seem to want to talk about any of it, but we needed to. Maybe we would have reached the same conclusion, but I would have felt better about it. 

I also needed to have a talk with myself. I was so busy defending my childlessness to the world. We couldn’t have children. God had other plans. Maybe later. Why did I accept not having children so easily? If any man had asked me to give up my writing or my music, I would have left him. Was having children less important to me than I have always said? Why does that make me feel like I might have been faking it all these years?

I don’t think I realized what I was giving up. I was so busy with work, music, school, and homemaking. Only with the passing of years and life stages has it become clear what I missed. It’s not just babies. It’s young children, older children, teens, young adults, mature adults, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, weddings, graduations, babies, Christmas presents, family gatherings, someone to watch fireworks with on Fourth of July, someone to help me when I need help, and someone to inherit my culture and my grandmother’s china teacups. Now, 40 years after that no-kids pronouncement, I know I should have pursued it more. Everything might have been different.  

I did not have the conversations I should have had. It’s hard. Partners sometimes get angry, or clam up, or start to cry. I grew up learning to avoid conflict. As soon as the conversation got hot, I backed off. It’s a learned skill to speak our truths calmly and lovingly. 

Perhaps you could say, “I know you have said x, but I need you to understand that I feel z. I’m trying to understand what’s holding you back. Can we talk about this a little more? Maybe if we talked it through, we could reach an agreement that will make us both happy.”  Maybe sharing a bottle of wine would help ease the tension. 

What do you think? Are you avoiding difficult conversations? What would happen if you kept talking?  Have you tried? What happened? 

Let’s talk about talking about it. I look forward to your comments. 

(Photo by Vitaly Gariev on Pexels.com)

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Novels’ Main Character is Childless Like Us

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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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New Childless by Marriage Book Coming Soon

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Love or children? Why would anyone have to choose? It’s like this giant secret that is right in front of everyone. One in five women and even more men don’t have children—at least not their own. For more than half of them, it was not by choice. Their partners a) never wanted children, b) already had kids from a previous relationship, c) never quite felt ready for parenthood, d) had had a vasectomy, or e) had fertility problems. They are forced to make a choice between this man or woman they love and the children they might have had.

Love or Children, which is in the production phase now and will be out in time for Christmas, features the best of more than 700 posts and comments from the Childless by Marriage blog. Although my name is on the cover, you readers have contributed a great deal to this book, often sharing things you wouldn’t tell anyone in person. Without you, it would be nothing. Don’t worry. I have maintained your anonymity, but your stories will be told.

Chapters look at how one becomes childless by marriage, how to decide whether to stay in a childless relationship or leave, how to deal with the grief that comes with giving up the dream of having children, how to respond to the hurtful things that people say, and lots more.

It’s important that as many people as possible read this book and maybe begin to understand what we’re dealing with. I will need your help spreading the word. I hope to make this fun. There will be swag, giveaways, videos, and more. Stay tuned.

If you haven’t read my previous Childless by Marriage book, order it now and catch up. The ebook is practically free.

*****

The coronavirus madness rages on. How are you all doing? Do you think it’s easier or more difficult for those of us without children? I haven’t seen my nieces and nephews in over a year except on Facebook. Have you been able to connect with family, especially the young ones that might fill that childless hole in your life?

At this moment, we still don’t know who has won the U.S. presidential election, but people are about to explode from the stress. However it turns out, we’ll still be here for each other.

I’m still looking for guest posts to the blog. The guidelines are in the sidebar on this page.

Hugs,

Sue

Sue has a new book, Up Beaver Creek

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Up_Beaver_Creek_Cover_for_Kindle (1)People often say that for those of us without children, the things we create are our babies. For me, that would be my books. I have been making books in some form since I was an odd child wrapping my stories in cardboard covers and illustrating them with crayons. I keep promising myself that I will not produce another one without a six-figure contract and a big-name publisher, but oops, I have given birth to a new book, my eighth.

The idea just flitted by that I could do this like a baby announcement. You know: time, date, height, weight, a little picture with a pink or blue cap. Have you received as many of those as I have? Have they made you cry? So no, not doing that. Enough with the birth analogy. Although a friend and I had some fun the other day joking about how much it would hurt to actually give birth to a book, considering the sharp corners.

I hereby announce the publication of Up Beaver Creek, a rare novel in which the main characters do not have children and are not going to get pregnant in the end. In this story, P.D. Soares, widowed at 42, has gone west from Montana to make a new life on the Oregon coast, but things keep going wrong. The cabin where she’s staying has major problems, and the landlord has disappeared. She’s about to lose the house she left in Missoula, and her first gig in her new career as a musician is a disaster. What will happen next? Here’s a hint. The earth seems to be shaking.

Up Beaver Creek comes from my own Blue Hydrangea Productions. You can buy copies or read a sample via Amazon.com by clicking here. Click here for information on all of my books, a crazy blend of fiction and non-fiction, including Childless by Marriage.

A few of you served as Beta readers to help me with the final draft. You were a huge help. As soon as my big box of books arrives, I will send you your free copies. You’ll find your names in the acknowledgements.

Could I produce all these books if I didn’t have children? I believe I could. I might be fooling myself, but I’m always trying to live more than one life at a time. I succeed most of the time.

So, are our creations our substitute babies? Could they fill that hole in our hearts, the hole P.D. is trying to fill with music? Would it ever be enough? It isn’t enough for me, but it sure helps because my work connects me with wonderful people like you. I welcome your comments.

A picnic basket for the childless

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Dear friends,
Occasionally I need to gather up the miscellany and  put it all into a picnic basket for you to savor. Here goes:

“Creating a new life for yourself as a childless woman” at Gateway-women.com offers comfort and ideas for digging ourselves out of the pity trench and moving on.

Then there’s “What if you don’t want children, but your husband or partner does?” at the Children or Not blog. It’s a twist on the question at the heart of this blog and my book. What if you’re the one who doesn’t want kids?

Yesterday, a friend told me she has found the daughter she gave up for adoption more than 40 years ago. Now she’s a grown woman with a daughter of her own. She said she hesitated to tell me because she knew I was sensitive on the subject. I knew I should be happy for her, and I am, but mostly I wanted to wail right there in the mall. Why couldn’t it be me showing off a photo of my daughter and granddaughter? Know what I mean?

If you happen to be in or near Lincoln County, Oregon, I’m leading a discussion on childlessness this Sunday at 2:30 p.m. at the South Beach Community Center. It’s free, including refreshments. I’ll tell my story, share a little from my book, then invite everyone to talk about it. If you live a little farther away, would you be interested in having me come lead a similar discussion in your town? Let me know at sufalick@gmail.com.

Have a great weekend.

How can we use our mothering energy?

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In a comment on a previous post, Elena said she wished she knew how to use her “mothering energy.” I wanted to flip out an easy answer about getting involved with kids at her church, a local school, or some kind of social program. But then I realized I would not feel comfortable doing any of these things. I have minimal experience being around children. I am utterly unprepared to teach or take care of them. I could learn, but the idea makes me nervous. I know, they’re just kids and I was one once, but I feel less qualified to work with children than I feel about the accounting job someone just suggested I apply for. At least I have been balancing checkbooks (sort of) for decades.

Mothers and others might find it difficult to believe that a woman could go through life spending almost no time with children, but it happens. It happened to me, and maybe it happened to you.

These days I lead singing with the children at our church on Wednesday nights. It’s fun, but another woman does all the talking and interacting with the kids. I just sing and play my guitar.

Some childless people have lots of kids around them. Maybe they come from big families where they took care of their siblings or they have nieces and nephews they adore. Some are teachers or work with kids in daycare or medicine or some other field. They’re using their mothering energy all the time. We could volunteer at church, school, or the children’s shelter to be around children, but if you don’t feel comfortable with that, I understand.

Let’s look at it another way. What is mothering? Beyond actually giving birth, it’s taking care of someone else. God knows we all need that, no matter how old we are. We can provide food for the poor, company for the lonely, help for anyone who needs it. And it doesn’t have to be human. We can take care of dogs. We can grow flowers or tomatoes.

And we can make things, using our creativity in so many ways, whether we write books, bake bread, make sculptures or program computers.

I know it’s not the same as having children, but moping about what we don’t have doesn’t help for long. Grieve for a while, admit that it sucks, then find some other way to use your motherly powers.

What are your thoughts on mothering energy?