Childless Elderwomen

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

The Big Change Nobody Wants to Talk About

Sue Fagalde Lick infertility, Jody Day, menopause, menopause for childless women , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Menopause. The big bugaboo people don’t talk about except to make hot flash jokes. 

The deadline that looms for those desperately trying to get pregnant before they run out of time.

The end of worry for those who fear getting pregnant when they don’t want a children (or another child).

The Childless Elderwomen met last Saturday, and we talked about it in depth. We could have gone on for hours. We may not usually discuss it with anyone but our doctors, but judging by the more than 100 questions that our host Jody Day received beforehand, people are interested and anxious about it. 

Our panel ranged in age from 49 to 79, from Catherine-Emanuelle Delisle, who went into early menopause at age 14, to Maria Hill and I, for whom it has been decades since our period. Others are still dealing with the effects.

For all women, the arrival of the monthly period, the sloughing off of the lining of the uterus that was prepared for a possible baby, signals that they are not pregnant. For some, that’s a relief because a baby was the last thing they wanted, at least then in their current life situation. For those who wanted to be pregnant, it can be a mild disappointment or a crushing blow, depending on how long they have been trying and how difficult it has been. It’s a reminder that another month has passed, their attempts have failed, and at some point, their fertile years will be over. 

It can be hard, but it’s not the end of the world. In fact, as writer and life coach Maria Hill said, “Once you hit menopause, you’re really starting to come into your own.” Others put it more bluntly. We reach the point in life we were give far fewer “fucks” about things that don’t matter. 

Yes, the end of your monthly cycles means you will not be able to give birth, but it also ends the pressure to keep trying. It allows you to move on.

The preparation phase of menopause, called perimenopause, is a drag. Periods come and go willy-nilly, heavy one time, light the next, one after another, or with big gaps when you think maybe it’s over and then it’s not. You may suffer from hot flashes, weight gain, vaginal dryness, and mood swings, but when it’s over, ahhhhh. 

Imagine life with no more cramps, no more PMS, no more pads or tampons, and no more birth control. I’m here to tell you it’s nice. 

In our talk, we discussed sex, physical changes that come with aging, feeling invisible, and especially to men. We touched on hormones and other options for dealing with the discomforts of perimenopause and menopause. I won’t lie. Some people have a hard time.

But we also talked about feeling like we have a fresh start, almost as if we are back to being the girls we were before puberty. We have a better perspective on what matters. We can spread our maternal energy in many directions. In other words, life is not over. 

My own menopause occurred at the same time I was dealing with my mother’s death, my husband’s dementia, and my own bouts with Graves’ disease, a hyperthyroid disorder. I was also in grad school. It was hard to distinguish menopause from everything else.

My male doctors wanted me to take hormones. I’m afraid some OB-Gyns are only interested in patients who are having babies. Menopause? Give them a pill and send them out the door. I insisted on doing it naturally. There’s no shame in taking hormones or trying natural therapies for your symptoms, but if your doc refuses to listen to what you want to do, find another one.

Menopause happens at different times for different people. Catherine was a teenager. Stella Duffy menopaused early as a result of cancer treatment. For many, the signs of impending menopause may begin in their 40s and conclude around 50, but it varies. My mother claimed to still have hot flashes in her 70s. However it happens, you deal with it and go on. Life is not over. In many ways, you are entering a newer, freer phase of life.

Btw, your sex drive will not go away. With your periods over, you may feel lustier than ever. Just sayin’.

Jody asked us what we would say to our younger selves about menopause if we could. I said I would tell her that the lead-up is annoying, but menopause is good. You get yourself back again after being controlled by your ovaries all these years. You are not old and dried up. You are still a strong and powerful woman.

I say the same thing to you. There may be some turbulence along the way, but you’ll arrive at a better, calmer place. You go through the bloody fertility tunnel and come out the other side. Without a baby, yes, but you do come out, and it’s all right here in menopause land. 

For men reading this, don’t feel left out. Understand that menopause is like going through puberty in reverse. If someone you love is going through it, know it won’t last forever. She’s still the same person she always was. Offer hugs, bubble baths and chocolate, along with air conditioning or a big fan. 

Enjoy the video posted above. About halfway in, I share something I have never told anybody. I’m embarrassed, but someone had to say it. Check it out.

Your turn

  • Does it offend you that I’m writing about this?
  • Have you gone through menopause? How was it?
  • How do you feel about the end of your fertile years?
  • What does having no more periods mean to you, whether you’re looking back or looking ahead to the future?
  • What would you say about it to your younger self?

Four posts to go before I stop posting regularly and move on to other things. What would you like to read here?

If you want to know what I’m up to these days, visit my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack at https://suelick.substack.com or friend me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/suelick. 

Being an aunt is not the same, but it’s pretty darned good

Sue Fagalde Lick aunts, childless aunts, helping parents at Christmas, Melanie Notkin, no kids at Christmas , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Illustrating the fun aunts can have with nieces and nephews. Photo shows a little girl riding piggyback on a woman's shoulders in a park. Both wear pale blue jeans and pink jackets.

You know how people get to talking about their kids and we have nothing to say because we don’t have any? Being an aunt or uncle can get you into the conversation with more fun and less angst. 

I suppose it’s like being grandparents, except you’re still young enough to be fun. 

I spent Thanksgiving with great-nieces and nephews who gave me plenty to talk about. Especially the oldest one. R. and I dressed for Thanksgiving dinner together, exchanging fashion tips. We played games. I was a customer at her pretend restaurant and a student in her pretend school. I let her try my guitar, and I listened to the song she made up. I was not the one telling her to brush her teeth, get dressed, or quiet down. We exchanged confidences and terrific hugs. Last summer, we were the ones who went swimming together while the grownups watched. I’m not ready to be one of the grownups. I’m the aunt. A long-distance one who doesn’t get to see them often enough, but an aunt nonetheless.

This trip, the younger kids were so busy playing with each other it was hard to get their attention, but still I could love and admire them and be amazed at all they had learned since the last time I saw them. I could brag about them. And soon I will go Christmas shopping for them because these kids give me a place in the world of children that I would otherwise miss.

When people talk about their grandchildren, I can talk about the nieces and nephews instead of just reverting to my own childhood or talking about dogs and cats. It feels good.

I told my brother how lucky he was to have this beautiful family. Bless his heart, he said, “Well, you’re part of it.”  

We are not all lucky enough to have siblings and nieces and nephews, biological or honorary. Sometimes being around other people’s kids painfully reminds us of the children we will never have. We may also feel awkward because we don’t have experience with young people unless we work with them as teachers, coaches or caregivers. It’s easier to avoid them, along with the adults who ask why, if you like kids so much, aren’t you having any?

You may not be able to relate to kids at this point in your childless life. The wound is too tender. Or maybe they just drive you nuts with their noise and unleashed energy. On my trip, I saw a family with three boys and a girl who jumped out of their car like they were shot out of a canon. As they headed into Applebee’s for lunch, I thought thank God I don’t have to deal with that. 

As the aunt, I can give them all a big hug and go off on my free adult way. But as they grow, they will become real people I can talk to and love and brag about as part of my family. Maybe they’ll even help me when I get old. Maybe not, but it’s possible. 

If you don’t have any siblings with children, it’s still possible to be an honorary aunt to your friends’ kids. You just have to show up with arms ready for hugging, ears ready for listening, and a heart ready to play. For the parents, you can be an extra set of hands, respite when they need a break, backup they can count on. 

If you’re not up to it, that’s okay. But if you are, grab the chance.  

Have you heard of The Savvy Auntie? Back in 2009, Melanie Notkin started an organization called The Savvy Auntie that has blossomed into books, blogs, merchandise, and all kinds of support for women without kids who embrace their aunt status. Check it out at SavvyAuntie.com.

Aunthood (and unclehood) is what you make it. You can have a close relationship, none at all, or something in-between. But at least it gives you something to talk about when people are going on about their children and grandchildren or when you’re Christmas shopping and want an excuse to hang out in the toy department. 

In literature, as in real life, there are good aunts and bad aunts (ditto for uncles). Auntie Em in “The Wizard of Oz” was nice enough. Who wouldn’t love Aunt Bea from the old “Andy Griffith Show?” But the aunt in Anne of Green Gables? She was mean. Let’s hope we’re the good kind, the aunts who love their nieces and nephews and can match any proud grandma’s stories with stories of their own. 

Further reading

Great Aunts of Literature | Book Riot

Aunts and Uncles in Literature: The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Evil

How about you? Are you an aunt or uncle? Do you enjoy it? Why or why not? I look forward to your comments. 

Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

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I will be participating in another Childless Elderwomen’s chat on Zoom on Sunday, Dec. 15, at noon Pacific time. Our topic is solo aging, and we have a bang-up panel of women you will love. If you register here, you can join us live or receive the recording afterward. This is a webinar, so you will not be seen or heard on screen.

I highly recommend Jody Day’s Substack post “The 3am bag lady blues.” She addresses that fear of growing old alone that many of us share.

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My Childless Story is Not the Same as Yours

Sue Fagalde Lick childless by marriage, childless in old age, childless old age, childless regrets, regrets about marriage , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Photo shows young woman perched on a couch playing guitar and singing. She is wearing red glasses, a red jacket, gray pleated skirt, and red loafers. Behind her is a faded blue and white quilt. Photo is from the early 1980s.

Dear young childless readers, I have a confession to make: the older I get the less I think about not having children. That’s one of the blessings of aging, but it’s making it hard to know what to write about in this blog after nearly 20 years.  

I know many of you are still in the throes of trying to decide what to do. The years are passing, menopause looms, and you worry that if you don’t have a baby, you will regret it forever. Your friends and family are after you to get pregnant. But your partner doesn’t want to, and maybe in your heart you’re not sure you want to either. Or you’ve been trying hard to have a baby and getting nothing but heartbreak. Maybe the decision is made, and you are grieving so hard you don’t know how you’ll survive. 

I remember that feeling, but it’s fading. I see this giant wall rising between me and you and between me and those years in the 1970s, 80s, and early 90s when I was conflicted, furious, and heartbroken. Now, I’m grandmother age. I still wish I had children. I wish I didn’t feel so awkward around other people’s children. I hate that my “family photo” includes just one person while my friends and family fill the frame with their grown children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and all their spouses.

But that ship sailed so long ago. My fertile years took place before many of you were born. I started having sex in 1974, the year birth control became legal in the U.S. for unmarried women. We didn’t have computers or cell phones. Calculators were high tech then. We listened to vinyl records and heated our food on the stove because we didn’t have microwave ovens. I had to see a doctor to get prescriptions to treat my cramps and yeast infections. You certainly couldn’t purchase condoms off the shelf at Safeway. Now you can buy all that stuff on Amazon. 

Life was so incredibly different, and it was less common for people to decide not to marry or have children. I never considered either option. I fell into the timing hole between the first husband, who was never ready to be a father, and the second one, who already was a dad to three nearly grown children. 

I have told my childless story so many times here that regular readers can probably recite it from memory. It’s time to put it in the cedar chest with my mini-skirts and peasant blouses. It’s time to tell your story.  

In my own life, my focus is on aging and living alone these days. That’s really all I want to write about (see my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack), but I don’t want to keep giving you the old lady voice. The grandma voice. The one that can only offer hindsight, not what it’s like right now for women stuck in the childless-by-marriage conundrum. It’s even harder to write for the few men who read this blog because I have never been a man. I don’t know what it’s like to be a father or want to be a father. Or NOT to want to.

I’m not quitting. Childless by Marriage will go on. I will keep sharing what I can gather from readers, the media, and those moments when I feel the non-mom grief again. But know that I’m writing from the other side of the wall. I feel like the older woman sitting at Starbucks with a younger woman who has come to her for advice. As if this older woman knows anything but her own story! Which doesn’t change! How did it happen? Bad timing? Do I regret my choices? Did I have a choice? If so, yes, but I’m not sure I did. Would I do it again? No. I shouldn’t have married the first husband for a lot of reasons. Not marrying him would have changed everything that followed.

My advice always boils down to this: If the problem is your partner and you can’t live with it, dump him/her. If the problem is physical, do your best to accept it and move on. If the problem is money, spend less on other things, and have a baby before it’s too late. Have more than one because people need brothers and sisters. 

I keep trying to sneak back into that younger skin to give you worthwhile posts, but I need your help.

  1. Tell me what you want to see here. What bothers you the most? What do you want to talk about? 
  2. Write a guest post or a letter I can post and answer. You can be as anonymous as you would like.
  3. Send me links to resources, news stories, blogs, Substacks, or whatever you find that might spark a new post. 

Help an old lady out, and let’s keep this going. I’d really like to get to 1,000 posts. This is number 874. Together, we can do it.

By the way, World Childless Week is coming around again online next month with a ton of workshops, panel discussions, articles, and videos to enjoy. I will be joining Jody Day’s Childless Elderwomen on Thursday, Sept. 19 for another fireside chat as part of World Childless Week. Our topic is “Friendships Across Life,” particularly what happens when our friends have children and we don’t. Go to https://worldchildlessweek.net to see how you can participate and to register to attend some or all of the events. Most of them are free, although donations are welcome.

Photo is of me around 1983 at my grandparents’ house. Note the spiffy red glasses and permed hair.

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Are We Avoiding the Tough Childless Conversations?

Sue Fagalde Lick Gateway-woman, Jody Day, partners who don't want children, Sue Fagalde Lick, talking about having kids , , , , , , , ,

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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Realistic childless role models, real or fictional, are hard to find

Sue Fagalde Lick adoption, books about being childfree, books about childlessness, childless role models, Nomos , , , , , , , , , , ,

The last novel I read, titled The Way It Should Be, was enjoyable but typical of the prenatal slant we usually get. Early on, newlyweds Zara and Chad discover Zara carries the gene for a fatal disease she could pass on to their children. She’s thinking they should not get pregnant. But he really wants a family. Will he leave her if she can’t give him sons and daughters? Before they can think twice about it, the children of a troubled family member fall into their laps. They’re adorable, and eventually they adopt them. Easy-peasy. Not realistic. I like a happy ending, but it would have been a more meaningful book for me if Chad and Zara had been forced to deal with their situation as potential non-parents and how that would change their lives.

Have you read any good books with childless characters lately? Sometimes it seems that every adult character we encounter in books and other media has children. But that’s not how it is in real life. The NoMo (non-mother) book club was formed to highlight books for those of us who are not parents. They have compiled quite a list. Visit their site at https://www.instagram.com/thenomobookclub.

Book club member Rosalyn Scott has started a new feature there called “Other Words,” where she interviews childless authors. The site goes live this Saturday, Jan. 13. and includes an interview with me about my books and writing. The image shown here includes a quote from that interview. I look forward to reading all the others. I know a few of the authors, but most are new to me. Give it a read at https://thenomobookclub.wixsite.com/otherwords. Visit the nomocrones instagram site for some good reading ideas. If you have a favorite book that fits the “NoMo” category, let the book club know at thenomobookclub@gmail.com.

Speaking of books, have I mentioned that I have four coming out this year? One of them is the next in my series about PD (no kids!) and her friends at Beaver Creek, Oregon. Two more are poetry books, and the fourth is No Way Out of This, a memoir about going through Alzheimer’s Disease with my late husband. It’s nuts. But could I say no to any of my dream publishers who wanted to publish my work? Heck no. It will be an interesting year of proofing covers and pages, publicity and marketing, giving talks, and trying to find time to manage the rest of my life. If I had children, they would be badly neglected.

It’s like giving birth to quadruplets. At any particular time, one is crying, one needs a diaper change, one has a fever, and the other has just spit up all over me. I’m raising books instead of people. How about you? What are you raising this year?

On Dec. 20, the childless elderwomen held their fireside chat about childless role models. What most of us decided was that although we could name some famous people without children, we didn’t have many real-life role models to follow. When we were of childbearing age, no one talked about why some people didn’t have children. Rumors were tossed around, but no one sat down and had an honest discussion about it. Now, we have become role models for each other. Perhaps you younger readers can be role models for us. I think the lesson to be learned from this is to talk about it. If you know someone who hasn’t had children, ask them in a quiet, private moment if they mind chatting about it. You could tell them about your own situation and say you’re seeking advice about what it’s like. We have to stop the silence.

Meanwhile, here’s a link to the video. https://jodyday.substack.com/?r=ejjy9&utm_campaign=pub&utm_medium=web It’s a little over an hour long.

I welcome your comments, and I hope your new year is starting out well.

Sue

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Who Do You See as Your Childless Role Models?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless role models, childless women, Uncategorized , , , , , , , , ,
Image is a poster for a panel discussion on "The power of role models" by Gateway Women and the Nomocrones. It lists the participants' names over a picture of a campfire with hills and a sunset in the background.

A role model is a person whose behavior in a particular role is imitated by others, says the Merriam Webster dictionary.

Who are your role models? Who do you want to be like when you grow up?

Back when we were children playing with dolls and various imaginative games, we might have pictured ourselves living the same lives as our parents. Or not. My mom was a housewife, but somehow my older dolls, Barbie and such, were always in show business. There was always a stage waiting for them to sing and dance. Think Doris Day way back then, maybe Taylor Swift now.

That life had nothing to do with having children. I didn’t even think about it. Did you?

Now that we are grownups, whose life do we want to imitate? I ask because the Childless Elderwomen will be discussing our role models next Wednesday, Dec. 20, on Zoom, and I’m not sure yet what I want to say.

A role model demonstrates a role that you hope to play. Literally, if you are an actor. Likewise, if you are a painter, you might try to copy their techniques. A dancer might employ their moves, or a singer might mimic their sounds. Writers like me are always being asked about our role models. I could list them, but in many cases I don’t know if they ever had children. Does it matter?

In religion, one might try to follow the example of a holy person. For example, the Catholic Church celebrates all the many virgin martyrs who gave their lives to God, not to mention all the priests, bishops and popes who lived celibate lives (let’s not get into the whole abuse thing).

Most of us are aware of the usual famous non-moms: Dolly Parton, Oprah Winfrey, Helen Mirren, Jennifer Anniston, Gloria Steinem, Kim Cattrall, Mother Teresa, Emily Dickinson . . .

You can find plenty of interviews with celebrities talking about their “infertility journeys,” most of which ended up with a baby via IVF or surrogacy. But as usual, nobody is talking about not having children because your partner is unable or unwilling. I’d like to read the stories of people who have done that.

Do we have role models who are not famous?

Most of our parents and grandparents modeled one way of life: the one where everything revolves around the family. You work hard, buy a house, raise your kids, enjoy your grandkids, and grow old. But there are others who don’t follow that pattern. My Aunt Edna never had children, and her husband died young. She did office work and volunteered at her church for many years, then traveled all over the world with her sister Virginia, who was also single and childless. Edna died at 100, Virginia at 101. Other childless women in my life have included my favorite journalism professor, my step-grandmother, and friends I met through my husband’s work. All lived active lives and seemed content. They never talked about their childlessness. But would I see them as role models? Not really. We were very different in most ways.

Thank God some people in the childless community, including Jody Day, Stephanie Phillips, Michael Hughes, and Katy Seppi, openly discuss their childless status and offer support to others. They can be role models, at least for this aspect of our lives. I suspect we need different role models for different things, some for career, some for lifestyle, some for our spiritual lives. What do you think?

Who are your childless role models? Whose example do you want to follow in your own life? Is there someone you admire, famous or not, that you try to imitate?

I will be joining the Childless Elderwomen on Dec. 20 to discuss our role models. Join us on Zoom. It’s totally anonymous. To get the link, register here.

Read more about this: https://www.thecut.com/2014/08/25-famous-women-on-childlessness.html–most of these active women chose the childfree life.

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‘You’re so lucky you don’t have kids’–Are we?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless in old age, growing old without children, World Childless Week , , , , , , ,

“You’re so lucky you don’t have kids” is one of the themes for next week’s World Childless Week. On Friday, Sept. 15, the Childless Elderwomen, including me, will discuss old age without children, a topic that scares the heck out of most of us. 

Are we lucky? Let’s be honest. Sometimes we are. We’re not crawling out of bed early to make lunches and drive the kids to daycare or school, spending all our money on children’s clothes and school supplies, or having every attempt at an adult conversation disrupted by a kid who demands our attention. Mom! Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad! I’m bored! 

But we’re also not having a little one snuggle with us and say, “I love you.” We’re not seeing our family traits reproduced in our children. We’re not saying “my son” or “my daughter” with pride.

We’re not worried every minute that our children might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. 

But we’ll never have adult children who worry that WE might be sick, hurt, scared, or in trouble. I know some kids leave the nest and never look back. But there’s a good chance they’ll be around.

Lucky? Yes, I have time to work from dawn to bedtime without interruption. I only have to take care of myself and my dog. But that feels more like a consolation prize. 

We offered our lives to a partner who couldn’t/wouldn’t give us children. If that partner is still with us, they will take care of us, and we will take care of them. But what if they’re gone, or what if we never had a life partner? What if we are what some call an elder orphan? Parents gone, no spouse, no kids.

My brother visited me last week. He has a wife, two kids, and three grandchildren. The chain of people looking out for “Papa” is clear. Not so much for Aunt Sue. We huddled in the den and talked about aging and death. I handed him an envelope with all of my financial information, my wishes if I die, and a draft of my obituary. We talked about wills, powers of attorney, and health care representatives. If I’m suddenly unconscious, who will be legally allowed to take care of things? It needs to be clear and official because my nearest family member lives 700 miles away. 

We talked about who I would leave my money to, about stepchildren and his children and charities I could fund. We talked about setting up a trust. With no obvious heirs, I’m free to do what I want with whatever’s left. Lucky? Maybe.

We talked, too, about who will handle things if he dies first. The possibility breaks my heart, but I may have to pay a professional, someone who doesn’t even know me. 

Enough doom and gloom. But I want you to consider this visual image. A photo of my brother’s family has seven people in it. There will be more as the young ones marry and have their own kids. The photo of my family has just one person: me. 

Lucky? An old Janis Joplin song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” 

There are advantages and disadvantages to not having children. I’m heading out of town today. I’m not taking a rambunctious three-year-old. Lucky. No one will ever call me “Mom” or “Grandma.” Not so lucky. 

What do you say when someone says “You’re so lucky not to have kids.” 

Are there words for that? Or do we just stare at them with a look that says, “You have no idea.” 

Join us next Friday for the Childless Elderwomen talk, hosted by Jody Day. It’s at noon Pacific time. The website will help you find your time. Register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen/. Attendees are not visible on the screen, so you can be totally anonymous. 

Visit https://www.worldchildlessweek.net for the full schedule of events. 

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Want to Be Seen as Radical? Don’t Have Children

Sue Fagalde Lick alone in old age, childless in old age, childlessness , , , , , , ,

Are you radical?

Sounds like something we used to say back in the 60s and 70s when something was really “cool” or crazy. Radical, man, groovy.

But radical is a real word, and one of its meanings is marked by a considerable departure from the usual or traditional. I think that applies to every one of us who does not have children. By not following the traditional pattern of marriage, motherhood, and grandmotherhood, we are both forced and freed to follow a nontraditional path, to be radical.

This was the subject of our spring solstice gathering of the Nomo Crones childless elderwomen on Zoom last week. These women are definitely radical. Straight, queer, single, married, childless by infertility, illness, partner problems, and sometimes by choice, they had a lot to say. Watch the video. We’re a lot of fun, and I don’t think we’re much like the traditional grandmotherly old ladies you may know.

MC Jody Day has dubbed us “Radical Old Women” or ROW. I like it.

I know I haven’t followed the standard patterns in my own life. A lifelong writer/musician, I never had to give up my vocations for motherhood or wait until my children grew up to begin. I have been writing steadily since elementary school. Now that my husband is gone and I don’t need a traditional job, I often do my writing and music to the exclusion of everything else. I work in my pajamas, and my house is a mess. I make elaborate meals when I’m in the mood or grab whatever’s hanging out in the fridge when I’m not because no one except my dog is depending on me to feed them. I wake up and go to sleep when I feel like it. Of course, the flip side is spending holidays alone and having no family to help when I’m sick or injured, but let’s not think about that today.

I don’t feel my age. I notice the physical changes, but without the milestones mothers experience, I don’t feel old, and I’m far from ready to accept the lives many of my friends in their 70s are living. A neighbor, also widowed and childless, told me recently that she was selling her house and moving to a senior residence. I looked it up. Mt. Angel Towers. It looks like a prison to me.

Another neighbor, age 75, rowdy and refusing to give up anything, agrees with me. No way in hell. If she gets feeble, she’ll hire people to help, but meanwhile, she wants to travel, work in her garden, shop at garage sales every weekend, and make her pot cookies.

A childless musician friend who just turned 80 has declared she’s going to be an “outrageous octogenarian.” She is losing her vision and has some major health challenges, but she refuses to leave her three-story dome home overlooking the beach; if she can’t climb the stairs, she’ll install an elevator. And she will keep playing the piano with a little help from her neighbors and friends.

I don’t live like anyone in my family, at least anyone who is still alive. What am I doing out here alone in the woods? Radical.

My step-grandmother, Grandma Rachel, never had children. Instead, she inherited our gang. She was a terrible housekeeper, dreadful cook. She was big, loud, and opinionated and a menace behind the wheel of a car. She loved to read, write, and paint pictures. The family disapproved, but I adored her. She was my role model, filling my life with books and encouraging me to follow my dreams. She died 32 years ago at age 86, but I treasure her letters and poems. I want to be her kind of radical.

I want to be the old lady with the crazy hats who sits around in jeans and tennis shoes playing guitar and writing poetry, who does yoga and travels cross-country by herself, who is not too old to crawl on the floor with the kids, who will never be old enough for an old folk’s home.

Another definition of radical: tending or disposed to make extreme changes in existing views, habits, conditions or institutions. In other words, we refuse to accept the status quo. One of five women will never have children. We need the parent-people to see us, to accept us, to understand that our radical lives have the same value as theirs. Who knows? Maybe someday parenting will be the radical choice.

What do you think? Want to be radical with me? I welcome your comments.

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What Will You Do with Your Fresh New Childless Year?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless new year, COVID-19, feeling left out on the holidays, finding comfort during the holidays , , , , ,

Dear friends,

This is my last Childless by Marriage post of 2022. We could rehash all the previous posts. In June, for example, we talked about the Supreme Court’s abortion decision, school shootings, babies on airplanes, heedless comments, and Louis May Alcott. But you can read the old posts for yourself, and I hope you do. Sometimes when you read something again on a different day, you have a completely different reaction.

I could note that I joined four childless elderwomen chats, that I published another novel featuring a childless heroine this year, I signed a contract for a memoir that will be out in June 2024, and I promoted poetry in my role as president of the Oregon Poetry Association. I also traveled to California and Ohio, got the catalytic converter stolen off my Honda Element, got hurt falling through a broken board in my deck, and caught a late-breaking case of Covid. I’ve done readings, participated in a bazillion zoom meetings, and as of today, read almost 100 books. What does that have to do with childlessness? I suppose that not having children gives me time to do all those things. I’m finding that those of us without kids often lead more colorful lives.

What were the major events of your 2022? Did anything change in your childless situation? Were any decisions made, to try for pregnancy, for example, or turn the would-be nursery into an office? Has the subject just sat like a big rock in the corner all year, one that nobody dared touch for fear it might explode into a big fight? A new year is about to start. If you don’t talk about that big rock, not having children in a world where most people do, surely it will blow up. So make this the year you are honest with each other and express how you feel. And not just to your partner. Talk about it with others, too. It’s okay to say you are sad, angry, frustrated, guilty, or unsure. You feel what you feel.

I just put away the Christmas wrapping paper last night. Scrolling through Facebook, I have seen lots of photos of people unwrapping their presents. You won’t see any of me because I was doing it alone. But I didn’t cry this year, and that’s a step ahead. This whole Christmas was different. I set up a Zoom with my brother’s family so I could see them and my nieces and nephews. They had seven people crowded around an IPad, and I couldn’t hear them very well, but we made the connection. I want them to know “Aunt Sue,” and it’s on me to make that happen.

Most Christmases, I have been with friends’ families and felt like the one who didn’t quite fit in, even though it was very nice. This year, three single women from church with no family around got together in one of our houses. Dinner was potluck. We ate, sang Christmas songs, and talked for hours. It was the most comfortable Christmas any of us had spent in years. We all feel like the ones who don’t quite fit in with our families, but we matched perfectly with each other. I am so grateful.

When you’re young, with parents still living, with family demanding your attention, and possibly stepchildren to entertain on the holidays, you don’t have a lot of choices. I remember the early married years where we shuttled from one family gathering to another. It was exhausting. One of the joys of being on your own in old age is having more choices. But you can try new options at any age. Maybe you won’t fly home next year. Maybe you’ll eat enchiladas instead of turkey. Maybe you’ll . . . ?

We’re coming into a new year. It’s a time for make resolutions and plan changes. I have my list. Do you? One of the things I’m planning to change is the frequency of posts at this blog. After 830 posts over 15 years, it’s getting harder to come up with new ideas every week, so the Childless by Marriage blog will appear every other week next year, unless I have something urgent to say in-between. I welcome guest posts, as long as they stay on topic. I will continue to post on my Childless by Marriage Facebook page, too. If you haven’t connected there, give it a shot.

As I type this here on the Oregon coast, the wind storm that started last night continues. It is still dark, and I wonder what damage I will see when the sun finally rises. No one knows what the new year will bring. I hope it’s good news for all of us. May you have peace, good health, and happiness in 2023.

See you next year.

Sue

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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