children

Your Childless by Marriage Survival Guide

Sue Fagalde Lick baby showers, Childless Woman's Survival Guide, envying families with children, grandparent envy, nosy questions, questions about having children , , , , , , , , , , ,

Survival guide? I can hear the naysayers now. “What’s so hard about not having children? You’ve got nothing to worry about but yourself.”

Wrong! In a world where most people become parents, those of us who don’t procreate face a few special challenges, including feeling shut out by your friends with kids, getting dumped on at work because everyone assumes you have nothing else to do, and the mother-in-law who keeps buying stuffed animals for her unborn grandchildren.

In this second to last new post at the Childless by Marriage blog, I offer a few suggestions.

1) The question: Do you have children? For most people, it’s just a conversation starter, but answering “no” may start the conversation in a direction you’d rather not travel. So have a reply ready. I used to tell people I had three stepchildren, which usually satisfied folks, but since I no longer see the steps and I’m considerably older, I just say, “No, I never had any children.” My friend Jill replies, “I have dogs.” Another friend just looks them in the eye and asks, “Why?”

2) The next question: Why don’t you have children? Telling folks you hate kids will not win you many friends. If you wanted children but your partner was unwilling or unable, it’s not cool to put all the blame on them. This is a person you love, right? You’re in this together. (If you’re not on the same page, you need to figure out whether you should stay together). For a few years, you can say you’re not quite ready yet, but after that, you need a better excuse. You could say, “We decided children were not for us,” “Our lives were already so full,” or “We tried, but it didn’t work out, so we got a dog.” If you have fertility issues, talking about them may earn pity, but who needs that? I just say, “God had other plans for me.” Then I change the subject. You can always turn it around and ask, “Why do you have children?”

3) Baby showers: Men don’t have to worry as much about this, but it can be a nightmare for childless women. The longer your friends live with babies, the more you wonder if they have lost their minds. At baby showers, women who have given birth terrify the guest of honor by telling harrowing labor stories. They play obstetric word puzzles and hold timed doll-diapering contests before enjoying a long orgy of unwrapping gifts. You will be the only woman who puts the diaper on backwards, who has nothing to contribute to the conversation, and who buys a doll-sized lace dress the child will be too big for at birth. You have two choices: tell someone else’s birth stories and sip as much fortified punch as you can, or decline the invitation, pleading work, a funeral, or some other obligation you can’t get out of. Send a card with money tucked inside. Cash always works.

4) Baby lust: No matter how comfortable you may be most of the time with your status as a childless person, once in a while you are going to want to cuddle an infant and talk baby talk. Borrow a baby. A sibling, co-worker or friend will be delighted to pass her child to you for a while so she can take a break. Borrowing an infant is like renting that Lexus you could never afford to buy. In both cases, when they need servicing, you give them back.

5) Baby talk: In their reproductive years, your friends and co-workers will spend hours discussing their children’s schools, illnesses, and annoying or endearing habits. Later, they will talk about their grandchildren’s schools, illnesses, and annoying or endearing habits. When you mention your puppy’s new chew toy, they just stare at you. Find a child you can talk about. Stepchildren work well, also nieces and nephews, students or the neighbor’s kid down the street. Collect stories you can share when the talk is all about kids. Worst case, reminisce about your own childhood.

6) Acting like a child: Ever pass an arcade and want to drop in a few quarters but everyone there is either a child or a parent? Ever miss playing marbles, jacks or Barbies? Play them alone, and people think you’re nuts. Play them with a child and you are helping, teaching, interacting. So, borrow a kid—with his parents’ permission—and have fun. You’ll get a reputation for being great with children, and their parents will be grateful because they’re sick of playing video games and searching for Barbie’s itty-bitty high heels.

7) The empty nest syndrome: Everyone has an empty nest eventually. Kids grow up and move away, and parents suddenly wonder what happened to their lives. You’re way ahead of them because your nest was never full. If you need something to feed and clean up after, get a dog. The dog will never learn to drive, never get married, never tell you she’s embarrassed to be seen with you. Dogs never ask for money or bring home bags of dirty clothes for you to wash. Overall, dogs are more fun than kids. And I’ll bet most of your friends who are raising tiny humans would agree.

8) You are not alone: With more and more people opting not to have children (or get married), you are not the only person without offspring. When you find someone else who is childless, talk to them, invite them to a meal, do things together. Eventually, the parent-people will look up and see you again when their kids no longer need constant supervision. Meanwhile, you don’t have to be alone. If you look around, you’ll find that people without kids are part of the new normal.

Dear friends, what would you add to this list? What is your best advice for childless by marriage readers?

One more post to go before I stop posting regularly here at the Childless by Marriage blog. What would you like to read here? I will keep up the website, with its reference list and an index of the 900 posts I have published over the years. You can still comment. I will read your comments and respond.

The Childless by Marriage Facebook page will continue. If you haven’t visited there, give it a try.

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. 

Thanks for reading Childless by Marriage!

What does the current pro-baby push mean for you?

Sue Fagalde Lick cost of having a baby, cost of raising a child, family pressure to have children, pressure to conceive, pronatalism , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Would $5,000 change your mind about having a baby?

Fertility rates are falling all over the world. Leaders of many countries, from the U.S. to Europe and Asia, worry that we will soon have too few workers and too many old people needing care. As a result, the pronatalism movement, which promotes childbearing, is growing.

Anyone who has found themselves surrounded by people who keep asking when you’re going to have a baby has met the babies-are-great-and-everyone-has-to-have-some crowd, but now we’re hearing it from our governments, too.

In the U.S., the birthrate has fallen to 1.6 births per woman, below the 2.1 needed to sustain a stable population. Many countries are offering incentives to encourage couples to have more babies. Here in the U.S. under the Trump administration, we’re hearing similar conversations.

In April, President Trump said, “I want to be the fertilization president.” Father of five himself, he has done his part.

Vice President J.D. Vance, father of three, and famous for his childless cat lady comments, said at a March for Life in January, “I want more babies in the United States of America.”

Elon Musk, said to have fathered 14 children, has called low birth rates “a much bigger risk to civilization than global warming.”

The Trump administration has talked about awarding $5,000 for each baby born. His administration has discussed tax breaks for parents, financial help with IVF, and even a medal for mothers of six or more children. No mention of the fathers. No mention of people who might not be equipped to be good parents.

As a baby boomer who grew up hearing that we needed to stop having so many babies because overpopulation was killing the world, this blows my mind.

I’m not in the baby game anymore, but I’m pretty sure none of these so-called incentives or the words of our current leaders would have made any difference for me. It was the circumstances of my own personal life that made me childless, not anything Uncle Sam might do or say. I’m sure it’s the same for other non-parents.

Over and over, I’m hearing that young couples can’t afford to have children, due to the estimated $300,000 it costs to raise a child, the daunting cost of childcare, and the high cost of owning a home suitable for raising children. It takes two incomes to support a family these days, but if both parents work full-time, who has time to take care of the kids?

The pronatalists seem unaware of the umpteen legitimate and often sad reasons why someone might not have children. What about people struggling with infertility, people whose partners are unable or unwilling, people who don’t have partners, or people who are dealing with physical or emotional illnesses that force them to abandon their plans to have children?

What about people who are working so hard to stay financially afloat that they can’t even think about babies? What about people who are giving everything to their careers and just don’t have the time or energy to raise children? What about those who look at our world and don’t want to subject children to what’s coming, whether it’s wars, climate change, or a civilization run by AI?

Some conservatives blame feminism and women in the workplace for the decreasing birth rate. They recommend a return to the old model of Dad at work and Mom at home taking care of the family. Is that even financially possible anymore? Do we really want women who enjoy their careers to step back into the 1950s when they had no rights and few opportunities?

Oops, my politics are showing. But we do already have a lot of people in this world. Look at the traffic in any major city during commute times. Do we really need to worry that older folks outnumber young ones? It’s a concern, sure, but is having more babies the solution?

Would a $5,000 bonus, tax breaks or a Mommy Medal make any difference in your childless status? What would it take? Is there anything the government can offer that would change your situation?

If your partner has been unwilling to parent, would any of these things make him or her change their mind?

Are your family and friends talking about the need for more babies?

This post seems to be all questions. I don’t have the answers. I only know that I entered the world during the 1950s baby boom, ran into roadblocks with my two husbands, and came out the other side childless. The government had nothing at all to do with it.

What do you think? I welcome your comments.

You might be interested in my recent “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack post about buying a home. How can anyone afford it these days? Are we doomed to rent forever? Check it out at https://suelick.substack.com/p/does-being-alone-mean-you-cant-own.

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‘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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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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Four simple words that can end a conversation

Sue Fagalde Lick awkward childless moments, childless on Mother's Day, I don't have children, I want children he doesn't, Mother's Day, questions about having children, telling people why you don't have children , , , , , , , ,

“I don’t have children.”

At the reception after my father’s funeral a few years ago, I was sitting with dad’s neighbors. Such nice people. We were exchanging the usual pleasantries—nice service, he was a good man, etc.

Then they asked about my children. The Mrs. pointed to my niece. “Is that your daughter?”

I wish.

“No, she’s my brother’s daughter,” I said.

“Where are your children?”

“I don’t have any children.”

Thud.

They didn’t know what to say after that. I don’t remember what I said. Did I talk about my work, boast about my niece and nephew, or discuss the music at the funeral? I excused myself soon after and threaded through the crowd to the company of cousins who already knew I was widowed and childless.

The next day, after I sobbed through the process of settling Dad’s ashes into place next to my mother’s at the mausoleum, the adults gathered their kids and drove away. They were too busy wrangling the little ones to realize I had no one to be with.

The question and the conversation-exploding answer of “I don’t have kids” happens all the time, especially among women. Generally men chat more about work and sports, but not always. They ask, too. It’s understandable. When your life revolves around raising children, and most of the people you know are also parents, kids are the one thing everyone has in common.

Folks skip right past “Do you have children?” to “How many children do you have? “How old are your children?” “Do your children go to X school?” or “Do your adult children live nearby?”

If I have a choice, I usually don’t mention my childless situation. Why set off that bomb if you don’t have to?  

The question comes most often during those years when you’re of an age when you would be raising children if you had them, but it still comes up in later years. Substitute “grandchildren.” You can’t have grandchildren if you never had children.  

Saying you never had children confuses people. It leads conversations to dead ends. It leads to one of you suddenly needing to get another drink, use the restroom, or go talk to someone on the other side of the room.

People respond in funny ways. Oh, I didn’t realize. Oh, there’s still time. Lucky you. I’ll give you mine. I just assumed . . . They rarely ask why—unless they are also without children. Those who are childless by choice may answer, “I never wanted any either,” leaving you to protest, “I wanted them, but . . .” Or maybe you just smile.

It depends on where you are, of course. In a gathering of writers, “What do you write?” is the big question. Classic car collectors will ask, “Are you driving that blue Chevy over there?” Gardeners may ask, “How are your tomatoes doing?”

But in the general public, especially among families, you’re going to get the kid question.

Mother’s Day is coming, a day when our lack of children may make us want to stay in bed with pillows over our heads. The advertisements have already begun: gifts for “Mom,” brunch for “Mom,” special Mother’s Day concerts. Schoolchildren are making craft projects to honor their moms.

For those of us without children, it’s just another Sunday, but one where we’re even more likely to hear those questions. How many kids do you have? How many grandkids?  Are they taking you out today? Here’s a carnation, MOM.

Until you’re forced to say, “I don’t have any children. I’m not a mom.”

Then you get the look: slacker, freak, cold-hearted selfish person. No flower for you.

Let’s talk about this. Where and how do you face questions about offspring? What happens when you say, “I don’t have children”? Why does it feel like a confession when we haven’t done anything wrong?

I look forward to your comments.

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