difficult conversations

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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If You Don’t Want Kids, Just Say It

Sue Fagalde Lick husbands who don't want children, Uncategorized, women who don't want children , , , , , , , , ,

This morning, I found a card in my files that I wrote 13 years ago: “We are biologically programmed to reproduce. Like every childbearing creature on earth, our whole beings are set up to make babies, to continue the species in an unending chain. If we don’t, we wander, lost, trying to find our way home. It’s as basic as eating, sleeping and excreting.” Ironically, I woke up thinking the same thing this morning as I wondered what to write this week. Maybe it was seeing the pregnant women on TV’s “Bachelor in Paradise” last night.

Before you get mad, think about it. We have all these parts designed to make, carry, deliver, and feed our offspring. Why would we choose not to use them? Why would some people go so far as to surgically disable the baby-making parts? What other animal does that? It seems unnatural. What do you think? I really want to know.

Last week’s post about my friend’s daughter’s fiancé suddenly announcing that he doesn’t want kids sparked a barrage of comments both at the blog and at the Childless by Marriage Facebook page. Some were sympathetic, some quite angry. How dare I suggest that that guy or anybody has to want children? He has a right to change his mind. He might have good reasons for feeling the way he does. I know. It’s all true. And it still sucks. In every situation like this, somebody is going to wind up brokenhearted.

Consider this: For most couples, having children is the default position. Children are assumed until someone challenges that assumption. Four out of five women give birth. The number of childless couples is growing, but those of us without children are still the minority.

When you’re dating someone, I think it’s natural to assume you’re both planning to have children someday—unless someone says something. And that’s the thing. It’s an awkward conversation, could be a date-stopper or a relationship-killer, but someone has to ask the questions. Do you want children? Are you able to have children? How will you feel if I get pregnant? How will you feel if I never do? You both need to honestly say how you feel about it: I really don’t want children. Or I want children so badly that I don’t want to live without them.

If you’re not going with the default position of having children, someone has to say it. And not after the wedding flowers have already been ordered. People can feel the way they want to feel. That’s fine. Just say it before it’s too late. Please.

Yes, folks change their minds. But—and this is the old Catholic lady talking—if you agreed to children before you got married, you can’t break that contract later. That’s just selfish and you shouldn’t hurt someone you love that way.

I expect some difficult comments. My back is in bad shape today, and I hurt too much to be diplomatic. So let the comments fly.