family

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!

The Birth at the End of The Novel Made Me Cry

Sue Fagalde Lick friends who are moms, godparents, parents vs. non-parents , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

. . . and not because I never had my own

The novel I just finished ended with the birth of a baby. 

Of course it did. In this type of feel-good fiction, even the people who think they can’t have children end up having them, and everyone is delighted. Just as people fall in love, overcome various obstacles, and end up happily ever after, surrounded by friends and family who adore them. 

To be honest, I want that. Don’t you?

Too bad it’s fiction. I won’t name this novel for fear of spoiling it for you.  

I will give credit to the author for bringing a childless woman into the picture. The new mom tells her childless sister-in-law, “My daughter needs a guardian angel, mentor, teacher, friend, a role model. Someone who is her strength. Someone she can always depend on and look up to. . . . Will you be Elizabeth’s godmother?”

Of course she will.

As I savored the ending through my tears, I cursed the author for making me cry. Baby-happy though she may be, at least she recognized the pain of those of us who don’t have children.

I suspect this “childless” godmother will marry her true love and miraculously become a mom in the sequel.

Moms and non-moms don’t always get along that well in real life. So often, they make wrong assumptions. A mother friend I’ll call Jo and I were talking about how misunderstandings arise between friends over having or not having children. One of her close friends assumed that when Jo became a mom, she would not have time for their friendship because moms’ lives are all about their kids.

“There was so much more to my life,” Jo protested. “I was still me.” 

At the same time, mothers make the mistake of assuming those of us without kids hate children and don’t want to be around them. That’s not true. I would love to be a godmother.

Kids are magical in the way they see everything with fresh eyes. Their excitement and their honesty are refreshing. Sure, they’re messy, noisy, tactless, and sometimes a pain, but so are we. Yes, seeing yours might remind me that I’ll never have my own, but does that mean I have to be kept apart from ALL children? Let me in.

It’s not only parents and non-parents who fail to communicate. People who are at different stages of life also misunderstand each other.   

That’s one of the reasons I’m planning to stop writing new posts for this blog after a couple more. My 900 posts will remain here for you to read whenever you want. I’m even going to create an index.

As a baby boomer who came of age in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I’m just not in the same place as young women struggling with the realities of childlessness now. I’m way past the possibility of having children. I’m not married or dating. My peers aren’t having babies; they’re welcoming grandchildren.

With menopause 20 years in the past, I feel as if I have already shared all I had to share about my childless journey. There are other, younger writers doing a better job of it now. 

That does not mean I don’t feel sad when I see families doing things together and know I’ll never have that. It does not mean I don’t feel grief and a bit of regret for how things turned out. It doesn’t mean I don’t see other women making the same choices I made and want to scream, “No! Don’t give up your chance to have children so easily.” 

It doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a slacker sometimes because I was physically able to reproduce, unlike women who are unable to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term. Unlike couples who go through hell trying to have a baby and still come out with empty arms. Compared to someone who bought a crib, chose a name and felt a baby kick, then lost that child, what have I got to complain about? 

I chose men who didn’t give me children, that’s all. I should have known better than to marry my first husband, but I was young and naive. My second husband, Fred, was too wonderful to give up. I believed his three children would give me all the motherhood I wanted. They didn’t.

Still, there is pain. There will always be pain.

When a friend brings her daughter to open mic to sing a duet and I know I will never do that, when a daughter rushes to the hospital to help her ailing mother or father and I don’t know who will come for me, or when couples post pictures of their kids and grandkids while I’m posting selfies, I grieve my situation. 

But do I think about it every day? 

Not anymore. Nor will you eventually. Age makes it easier to accept how life has gone. It really does.

As for the blog, you need someone who is dealing with it now in today’s world. So much has changed since I lost my virginity in 1972. I will offer you a list of other blogs and Substacks that will more than fill whatever vacancy is left by my lack of new posts. I will also beef up my resource page so you can find whatever you need in one place.  

Back to the novel: I wish I had played a bigger role in the lives of my stepchildren, nieces, nephews, and young cousins. I lived far away, and I was always working. Care for my in-laws, my parents and my husband in their final years took all of my energy. Now, these young family members barely know who I am. 

I regret that as much as I regret not having children. 

I appreciate the new mother in the novel making the childless aunt feel welcome and included.  

This is fiction, but I hope we can be more understanding of each other in real life. 

How do you feel when you read books where people are having babies?

Additional reading

“Bridging the Gap Between Parents, the Childfree and the Childless“

“How Moms and Non-Moms Can Come Together | Psychology Today“

To find books where people aren’t all having babies, visit the NoMo Book Club, https://www.instagram.com/thenomobookclub

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!

These Books Offer Three Different Views of Childlessness

Sue Fagalde Lick books about being childfree, books about childlessness, childless authors writing about motherhood, childless vs. childfree , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Nulligravida by Saralyn Caine, 2021

How do you feel when someone declares they never wanted children and puts down the people who do want them? Me, I’m very uncomfortable, as if I need to defend my desire to be a mother or explain why I haven’t adopted or gone through IVF.

I recently quit reading a book titled Nulligravida, which is the medical term for a woman who has never been pregnant. I couldn’t get past the mean-spiritedness of so many of the poems and essays by author Saralyn Caine.

  • “Children are noisy, selfish, and dependent. They can’t help it, but I can help having that in my life.”
  • “I refuse to be a host to a parasitic entity squirming around in my belly. I refuse to have persistent migraines from all the screaming. I refuse to sacrifice my sleep and health and body and sanity.”
  • “There is no soul waiting/for me to be its mother./If there were, I’d have the desire.”

Caine implies that women who become mothers sacrifice themselves to these “selfish parasites” called children. She also bashes Christians and anyone who promotes parenthood.

We are all entitled to make our own decisions in this area. Caine’s words are valid for those firmly against having children, but as someone who grieves the loss of the children I never had, I just couldn’t read any more of this book.

Childless: A Woman and a Girl in a Man’s World by Fabiana Formica, Nianima Press, 2025

I had trouble with Fabiana Formica’s Childless, too, but not because of its contents. Its unusual format makes it a slow read.

Formica was never able to find a fitting partner with whom she could start a family. Nearing the end of her fertile years, she froze her eggs and picked out a sperm donor, but she ultimately decided she was not up to having a child alone. Much of the book consists of letters to her unborn child, whom she names Nia after her grandmother. She tries to explain why she couldn’t go through with it.

Fabiana was married once. Although she hadn’t wanted children before, she said, once they were married, she felt a physical yearning to have a child growing inside her. When she asked her husband if they could start trying to conceive, she received “a resounding “No!”

She writes: “From that dissonance, between the body that quivers for the seed of life, and the mind, witnessing a full-blown typhoon about to hit the abandoned island of love, comes the short-circuit. The void. The devastation.

“I’d chosen a man, an imperfect human being, made of flesh and blood and vague feelings. An adult child, much as I was, too, wrapped in concern for the preservation of our own images as solid, proud and strong individuals. These projections concealed the fragility of our unresolved and difficult childhoods, but no one dared speak of such heartfelt truths. When I’d met him, I’d never have talked about children—because I didn’t want them. To be a mother, until that moment, had constituted an outrage directed at my future, an obstacle to my destiny, an unnecessary burden on my presence in the world, a presence I envisaged to be very different from that of my mother.”

Her own mother didn’t want children and had several abortions before giving birth to Fabiana. She always told her that having a baby ruined her life. Fabiana didn’t want to make the same mistake. But now she struggles with her decision to abandon her frozen eggs.

“I must justify the pain of the decision to let go of this attachment to an idea, to a role I’d play in society by telling myself there’s another plan for me, beyond motherhood, beyond caretaker, beyond anything imaginable by society, or by my own social conditioned thinking.”

She admits she enjoys her freedom to travel and to put her career and herself first. She tells her baby, “I wonder if such freedom would be compatible with you, my sweet baby Nia. If a happy union in which a man wouldn’t take possession of me, or you, to make us his missing rib, might exist, a man who allows my body so much freedom that he wouldn’t see a baby as the fruit of his conquest.”

Formica met recently with Gateway Women’s Jody Day and writer Y.L. Wolfe for an online webinar. They discussed Formica’s book, the desire to control their own lives, the pressure to create traditional families, and prejudice against people who are not married or partnered. You can watch the recording here.

Wait Here by Lucy Nelson, Summit Books, 2025

I have no qualms about recommending Wait Here by Australian author Lucy Nelson. This short story collection features protagonists who do not have children and probably never will. More important, these are great stories, quirky and original. In “Ghost Baby,” we read about a woman who looks for her aborted baby everywhere. In “The Feeling Bones,” Nelson uses the bones of the body to tell mini stories about her characters’ lives.

The title story, “Wait Here,” takes place entirely in a therapist’s waiting room. There, the lead character finds a comfortable oasis where she can invent stories and avoid what she has come to talk about: a baby she aborted or miscarried (it’s not spelled out). I truly enjoyed these stories. They’re easy to read and a relief for childless readers who are weary of fiction that always ends with the woman having a baby or heavy books that rail against the evils of pronatalism. This one is fun all the way through.  

When I first started writing about childlessness, there weren’t many books published on the subject. Most were Christian-oriented books on infertility that ended with a baby. It is good that writers are offering books now that show the many different faces of life without children.

Do you have any books recommend? Please share in the comments.

Three posts 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 also find me at the Childless by Marriage Facebook page.

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. 

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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I Forgot How Childlessness Felt When I was Young

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , , ,

How will you feel about your childless journey 15 or 20 or 30 years from now? 

I’m finding out as I reread my Childless by Marriage book for the first time in years. I’m preparing an audio version. As I listen for mispronunciations, I feel like I’m hearing these stories for the first time.  

It’s not my voice. It’s a computerized voice but one that sounds like it could be me or my mom. She’s good. I listen, mesmerized, as this woman tells of the early years of my marriage, my angst over not having a baby, and my relationships with my stepchildren. 

This book came out in 2012, but I started researching and making notes in 1989, which was a very long time ago. I have changed. The world has changed.

Was there really a time when I thought and acted like a mom, when my youngest stepson, Michael, was a huge part of my life? How could I have forgotten?

How could I forget when my mother and I both had “grandbabies” at the same time? 

Did I really share so many personal and sometimes traumatic moments–My multiple experiments with birth control, having sex in the bathroom while the family watched a movie, sobbing at a women’s retreat because I would never be a mother, listening in horror as my stepdaughter told my husband he was a terrible father–I shared all that? 

Thank God my parents never read Childless by Marriage. The book is not just my story. I interviewed many childless women and did tons of research in the days when you could not find it all online. Chapters include information on infertility, birth control, vasectomies, the childfree movement, pets as child substitutes, losing friends when they become parents, and the physical and emotional effects of never having children. But I had forgotten how much of my own story was in there. It reads like a memoir in essays. 

I was still in the process of transitioning from newspaper reporting to writing creative nonfiction in those days. I hired an editor to look at the book. She said she wanted more of my story and less research. So, I changed it. Some of the stories are also included in my newest book, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s. I duplicated myself. I guess that’s okay. The words are different, and it came from a different time in my life. 

I was so young, still in my 30s, when I started researching childlessness. I was still having periods and still hoping that somehow I would have children. I was also trying hard to develop a motherly relationship with my husband’s kids.

As I reread this book, I miss them. I want to call each of them, hug them, and claim a place in their lives, but we have had no real contact since their father died 14 years ago. Michael visited once so I could show him where Fred was buried. Gretchen is a Facebook friend. Ted . . . nothing.

Ted, Fred’s oldest, was livid when he read the first ebook edition of Childless by Marriage. He threatened to sue if I didn’t take out the things I had written about him. I took them out. Considering what I said about Michael and Gretchen, it’s a wonder all three of them didn’t sue. I didn’t write it to hurt anyone, just to share how it is when you’re a childless stepmother, but not everyone sees it that way.

The kids are 46, 56, and 59 now. Gretchen is a grandmother. I will never see her grandchildren. I feel the loss. For a while, I was a mom of sorts. Does that mean I’m not childless? Well, the stepchildren stepped away. I never gave birth to my own kids. There is no child out there with my eyes and the name I gave him or her. No one calls me “Mom.”  

It’s not a sad book. Portions are funny, and most of it is upbeat. We learn there are many ways to mother and to nurture. I mothered my staff at the newspaper I edited. I mothered my students and the singers in the church choir. I mother my dogs, my plants, and l even mother the spider I capture in a cup and carry out to the lawn. I create books from a thought or a word and turn them into something lasting that I can share with the world. That’s not nothing. 

I know this is unusual post. Eighteen years into this blog, I’m running dry. I have moved on to writing about the issues of aging and living alone (see my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?”) I have published many other books since Childless by Marriage came out.

I’m 73, widowed and live in an aging community where everyone has cats and dogs, but we don’t see a lot of babies. My friends’ grandchildren and great-grandchildren live elsewhere, so they’re not in my face.

When I see families having fun together, I still feel sad. I read about grown men and women taking care of their elderly parents and worry about who will do that for me. I daydream about having a family like other women my age. But I’m mostly caught up in the day-to-day of life here and now. 

My Childless by Marriage book, the one I honestly thought would make me famous (ha!) is good. I’m relieved. When a writer rereads her old writing, sometimes she shudders at what she let get into print. But no, I think it’s relevant and well-done, as beautiful as that six-foot tall, brown-eyed son I might have had, the one who might have called to take me out to lunch on this sunny spring day. 

One of the early books on childlessness, it is still the only one I know of that focuses on being childless because your partner can’t or won’t give you children. Well, except for my other book, Love or Children: When You Can’t Have Both. That one is a best-of-the-blog compilation; you might want to read that, too. 

Why am I telling you all this? Not to sell books (well, okay, if you want to buy one, I won’t mind), but to share how our views of things change over the years. You walk around saying, “I’m not a mom” when in fact you are mothering your husband’s kids or your students or your fur babies. You remember crying in the closest but forget how you also were free to travel the world, go to shows, eat at fancy restaurants, and make love in the living room. You look at some of the choices you made that led to being childless and think: Why didn’t I try harder? Why did I give in so easily to a life without babies? 

You wonder: Why am I not still a size 12?

I have been blogging here at childlessbymarriage.com since 2007. This is my 893rd post. I’m going for 900. Somebody do the math: At least 800 words times 900 equals . . . Oh my God. I had hoped to get to 1,000 posts, but my well has run dry. I have aged out of this gig. I won’t leave you altogether. We have seven more posts to go. I plan to redesign my Childless by Marriage website and keep you up to date on childless events, books, articles, and other things I might want to share. I will maintain my resource list. I will also continue my Childless by Marriage Facebook page. But it’s time. 

I expect to be finished with the audio book by June 1. I’m obsessed, so it’s going quickly. Page after page, this book reveals new things to me. I hope Childless by Marriage is a revelation to you, too, whether you already read it years ago or are hearing about it for the first time. 

Thank you for being here. Your comments are welcome and treasured. 

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Without Kids, Will You Spend Your Holidays Alone?

Sue Fagalde Lick alone in old age, Childless holidays, childless in old age, feeling left out on the holidays, growing old without children, who will be there when you're old , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends,

Today, I’m sharing a revised version of a post I wrote for my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack on Easter. I don’t dwell on childlessness there, but the sad truth is that if you don’t have kids, you may wind up alone in old age.

I’m watching “American Idol” on TV and crying. All those weepy moms in the audience remind me that I will never have a child to love and support like that.

It’s Easter. I have been trying hard to be Zen about not having a family to spend the holiday with, but now the reality is sinking in.

This afternoon, a niece posted a photo of my sister-in-law surrounded by her grandchildren in front of a homemade birthday cake. They had gathered for a combined Easter/birthday celebration. The kids didn’t have to be reminded and cajoled to do something for their mother. They just did it. I am happy for her. She works hard taking care of those kids and my brother.

On my last birthday, which was better than average, I went to my weekly open mic, where my fellow musicians sang to me and made me feel loved. At church, having read my posts about my upcoming birthday, our videographer brought me flowers. My neighbors invited me over for supper. It was a little uncomfortable because there were four of them and one of me. But it was kind of them, and we had fun.

I couldn’t help thinking people felt sorry for me because I was alone. Hell, I felt sorry for me.

If I didn’t say a word, who would think to do anything? And when was the last time someone baked a cake for me?

Back to the moms in the “American Idol” audience. I started wondering what my kids would be like. Would I have a pretty daughter like my niece or a tall son who would adore me and take care of me? Would they add in-laws and grandchildren so my family could be as big as my brother’s? Would I never spend a birthday or holiday alone? Would I bake cakes for their birthdays?

Excuse me while I fetch some Kleenex.

Yes, I know. I could have children who would not show up for me. Several of my parent friends spent the holiday alone because their kids were busy, lived far away, or they weren’t getting along. Some people’s children have died; surely that pain is worse than anything we might feel about never having them. Babies don’t come with guarantees.

I had three stepchildren. When my husband died, they slipped away. What little I know about them these days is posted on Facebook. What if I had tried harder to keep in touch, to be part of their lives? Would they have let me? I don’t know. I didn’t know how to be a mom, especially when my husband wasn’t enthusiastic about being a dad, but I think I blew it.

By choosing Fred, I chose a life without children of my own. He was a wonderful husband. We were so in love. Who knew he’d have early-onset Alzheimer’s and die at the age I am now? I thought he would be with me for at least another ten years.

At the top of my to-do pile is my health care advanced directive form, which specifies what I want done in a medical emergency if I can’t speak for myself. It has spaces to list the people who will speak for me. It has been on that pile for months. Besides my brother, who lives 700 miles away, I still don’t know who to choose as my alternate representative. If I had children, I’d put their names down and expect them to do it.

Who else would care enough to hang around a hospital making life and death decisions for me? I have friends, but do I have the right to put that kind of responsibility on them? Should I recruit one of my cousins, the cousins I only see at funerals? What if I put out a call for volunteers? Would anyone respond? I’m stuck.

I will figure it out. I will find someone, even if I have to pay a professional. I just learned there are “nurse advocates” who will step in if you don’t have family to speak for you. But I’m jealous of those people who can call on their grown children for everything from Easter parties to rides to the doctor to managing their affairs when they can’t do it anymore.

When a couple has children, it starts with one baby but grows into a family, with young ones to replace the older ones who pass on to the next life. If you give that up for the love of one man or woman and they leave or die, you will be alone. On Easter. Christmas. Your birthday. The anniversary of your husband’s death. The day you win a prize. The day the doctor says you have cancer.

Many people happily choose not to have children and are confident they can deal with their childfree future. Others are physically unable to get pregnant or carry a pregnancy to term, and they will feel the loss all their lives.

For those of us who are childless by marriage, who have choices, we need to think very hard before we put all our eggs in the no-kids basket. If your partner is able but unwilling, talk to them about what will happen if they are gone, and you’re left alone. If they really love you, maybe they’ll change their minds.

I know this is a weird post, but it’s what I’m thinking about this week.

How was your Easter? Was not having children an issue for you? Have you thought about what will happen when you’re older?

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At my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack, we talk about all sorts of things related to living alone. Come join us at https://suelick.substack.com.

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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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Will You Ever Find Peace with Your Childlessness? 

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", accepting a life without children., childless grief, infertility, menopause for childless women, regret, regret not having children , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Facing a future with no children used to drive me crazy. Back when I was fertile and married to a man who was not, I cried a lot, mostly where he couldn’t see me. I resented my friends whose lives revolved around their kids. I did not want to hear their happy stories or look at their pictures. Baby showers? What do I know about babies? Count me out.

As far as I knew, there was nothing wrong with my baby-making parts, but they were being wasted, evidenced by painful periods every month, reminders I was running out of time. 

Now I’m 72, childless and widowed. Although being alone can be difficult, I have to tell you that I don’t think about childlessness all the time anymore. If you are in your 20s, 30s, or early 40s, feeling bad because you wanted children and might never have even one baby, know that it does get easier. Like any loss, it doesn’t go away, but you do learn to live with it. 

Yes, you will feel breakthrough grief and anger. You’ll see a family at play or hold someone else’s baby and think I could have had that, but as you get older, it will become a less important feature in your life. You will wonder who will care for you in old age, but know that even if you had children, they might not be available to help.

When you’re surrounded by people getting married and having babies, you feel excluded, jealous, and angry at whatever keeps you from having the children you always wanted. Or you resent the people who keep pushing you to have the children you never wanted. You’ll regret it, they warn. What if they’re right? It can be a brutal time. 

The night before my 40th birthday, I had a meltdown that I describe in my Childless by Marriage book. At a Catholic women’s retreat, everyone was talking about their kids. Our guided meditation put me face to face with what I had lost, and it felt unbearable. As the women running the retreat held me, I sobbed in front of everyone. I felt broken. It didn’t help that I really wanted a drink, and there was no alcohol around.

But as I approached menopause, so many other things took my attention. My writing career was taking off. I was performing music almost every weekend. I earned my long-delayed master’s degree. We moved from San Jose, California to Oregon and experienced a very different life in a small coastal town.

My mother died, my husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, and my father needed lots of help before he passed away. You hear about the “sandwich generation,” about people caught between caring for their children and caring for their parents. Without children, we can be open-faced sandwiches, helping our older relatives without neglecting our children. 

By my 50s, people stopped bugging me about having kids, and my friends were free to do non-kid activities again. Yes, the grandchildren came, but that was an off and on thing. We could still be friends.

Do I wish I was a grandmother? Sometimes. but childlessness is not at the front of my mind anymore. I took a different path, and it’s too late to turn back.

With every choice, you lose the chance to pursue the other option. By moving to Oregon, we lost the chance to grow old in San Jose, closer to family and so many resources that don’t exist here. If I had married someone else or not married at all, my story would be different. You choose one road and let the other one go.

I can torture myself by imagining what it would be like to have children, how they would look, what we would do together, how I would hold my grandbabies in my arms. But my life didn’t go that way, and I suspect that’s how it was meant to be. 

Not having children has given me the gift of great gobs of time that mothers don’t always have. Time and freedom. I don’t have to find a babysitter or take a kid with me if I decide I want to go to lunch, take a walk on the beach, or spend the night elsewhere. I just go. 

Would I trade my freedom for a walk on the beach with my son or daughter, maybe with their children splashing in the surf or building sandcastles? In a heartbeat. But that’s not on the menu for me. And I’m 80 percent okay with it.  

Maybe you’re at that age when becoming a parent would still be possible under other current circumstances and you’re driving yourself crazy trying to decide what to do: Leave your partner in the hope of finding someone who will give you kids? Try IVF? Hire a surrogate? Adopt? You may fight with your partner over it and cry a lot.

I know how bad it hurts. I’m saying that later it will be easier. Childlessness will not be the center of your life, and that makes room for other things, wonderful things. 

That’s not nothing.

How about you? Are you going crazy over being childless? Do you regret the choices that led you to be without children? Did you have a choice? Do you think you will ever be okay with it? Or are you fine with it now? Have you found peace with your situation? How?

I’m great-grandmother old. Tell me how it is for you at whatever age you are.

I welcome your comments.

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If you enjoy this blog, you may want to visit my Substack, Can I Do It Alone?

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Holiday stepparenting is not all ho-ho-ho

Sue Fagalde Lick alone at Christmas, childless at Christmas, childless stepfathers, childless stepmother, competing with stepchildren for father's attention, holidays with stepchildren, mothering stepchildren , , , , , , , , , , ,
Christmas tree illustrating blog post about being childless at Christmas. It's a small tabletop tree with antique ornaments. Behind it is a window, with pine trees and neighbor's vehicles.

Dear readers,

I shouldn’t have looked at Facebook. Every holiday season, I tell my childless friends to stay off social media because it’s too upsetting. All those happy family pictures, especially the ones featuring babies and children doing happy Christmas things, can rip open the scabs we’re trying to grow over our childless feelings.

If only I followed my own advice.

Look, there they are with Santa. There they are hugging at the airport. There they are around the festive table. See three or four generations gathered together in matching sweaters. . .

Meanwhile, we’re planning dinner for two or maybe just one. If we’re lucky, we can post pictures of our dogs and cats.

Or our stepchildren. I want to give a shout-out to stepmothers and stepfathers this year. It’s a tough job. Some of us give up our dreams of having our own children, thinking our partner’s kids will give us the family we want. But so often, it’s a disappointment.

A reader wrote to me recently about her situation, very similar to mine. The way she described her stepmom situation felt right on: “He told me that he would share his kids with me. They did not want to be shared!”

If you look at it from the kids’ point of view, why would they want a stranger to move into their parent’s home and expect to be some kind of new parent to them? Maybe you’re a child of divorce and experienced that yourself.

Come the holidays, you’re shuffled from parent to parent, often having to spend Christmas away from the place you consider your real home. And now there are other strangers, would-be grandparents, aunts and uncles who don’t seem to get that you already have a family. They expect you to join in new traditions when you have your own.

The divorced parent is caught between the ex-family and the new family.

Divorce sucks.

As for the stepparent hoping to make a family from their partner’s kids, sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. As soon as the kids are old enough to step away, many do. And if you’re no longer with their father or mother, they might step right out of your life. That’s what happened when my husband died. I still love his kids and miss them, but I’m on my own.

This post was inspired by watching my own stepfamily having fun together online. Now there are step-grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but I have never met the youngest ones and probably never will. If my husband were still alive, we could claim this whole beautiful group of young people. I could shower them with love, but now . . . I’ll be going to church and to a friend’s house for Christmas dinner but spending much of the holiday by myself. I’m okay, but I would be more okay if I hadn’t seen those pictures on Facebook.

At Thanksgiving, I offered some suggestions for surviving the childless holidays. If you missed it, take a look at that post.

By now, your holiday plans are probably already set. Maybe you’re reading this from a tropical vacation paradise. Maybe you’re working. Maybe you’re hosting the step-kids this year. Maybe there are no step-kids. Maybe you’re hanging with nieces, nephews or the children of your friends. Kids are fun. It’s not their fault that you feel awkward or sad. Just try to love them if they’re around and enjoy your all-adult life if they’re not.

And take a vacation from Facebook, Instagram, Bluesky, TikTok, or wherever you like to browse. You won’t miss that much, and it will be easier on your heart.

May your holidays be filled with love, peace, and hope for the new year.

Sue

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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