freedom of childlessness

How does it feel to be childless on Mother’s Day and every day?

Sue Fagalde Lick articles about childlessness, blessings of childlessness, childless on Mother's Day, childlessness, Mother's Day at church , , , , , , , ,

“What is it like, being childless?” That title of a recent post at the Life without Children Substack got me thinking. In a minute, we will look at how author Colleen Addison answered the question, but first, let’s think about this. What is it like for you and for me?  

With Mother’s Day happening this weekend, why not start there. What is it like? 

  • Last night at church choir practice, two moms in the group were talking about the Mother’s Day breakfast happening Sunday after Mass. Apparently, they serve mimosas to the mothers. I have never attended. I try to avoid church and all public places on Mother’s Day because it’s uncomfortable having to repeatedly explain that I am not a mother and therefore should not be receiving a flower, mimosa, or special blessing.
  • It’s like I don’t have the right clothes, so I can’t attend the party. 
  • I speak to women my age or older whose adult children help them with every aspect of their lives. Do these mother women even see that I have no kids to help me? But I am proud that I can manage things by myself.
  • I see pregnant women and know that amazing process will never happen in my body. I also know that that process can change a body in ways I don’t really want, so I’m a little relieved. 
  • I see moms snuggling with their little children and know the best I can do is snuggle with a dog. 
  • I see the physical characteristics shared by moms, dads, and kids, and wonder what my children would have looked like. 
  • Sometimes when people assume I’m a mom, I let them think I am because it’s easier than explaining why I never had children. 
  • I see kids acting out and wonder where I would find the patience and self-restraint not to kill them or give them away. 
  • When I hear politicians and theologians raving about “these selfish women” who don’t want to have children, I want to scream, “But I did want them!”
  • I feel younger than my peers, as if I’m still waiting to go through the life stages they experienced decades ago. 
  • I feel older than my peers because I’m not around children and don’t know what young people are doing and thinking these days. 
  • I think about the choices I made and the things that have happened and wonder what if, what if, what if.
  • I am often alone on the holidays and my birthday. I am free to do whatever I want on the holidays and my birthday. 
  • My name will not disappear as I become Mom or Grandma. I will be Sue forever. Sometimes Aunt Sue, which I treasure more than I can express. 
  • I will forever grieve the loss, a loss most people don’t recognize–how can you grieve what you never had?–and I will forever enjoy my freedom. 

That’s what it’s like for me. 

Let’s get back to the article. Addison’s therapist was the one who asked, “What is it like?” The therapist was a father with family photos on the shelves behind him. 

  • Like all of us, Addison has many answers. “I can say that I am sometimes happy I didn’t have children, and that there is guilt in that.” 
  • “I can tell you that there are bad aspects and that I veer away from them. I don’t look at babies and avert my eyes from pregnant women.” 
  • “…if I had children I would be someone else, utterly and profoundly…the me I am now would be lost if I had had children and the loss would have been as sad or nearly as the loss of my imagined children.” 
  • “It is being alone, really alone, on a wide wide sea.” 

I have never lived the life I might have lived if I had had children. I only know this one. I do know it is different in many ways from that of people who have children. Look around my living room. There are no pictures of children, only landscapes and photos of long-dead loved ones. There are no toys. Nothing is child proofed. Nothing is child sized. I’m not saying that’s good or bad; it’s just how it is.

Your turn. Ask yourself, “What is it like?” If a therapist, friend, or podcast interviewer asked, what would you say? I invite you to share your answers in the comments. 

I thank Ali Hall for her fabulous Life Without Children Substack. Subscribe. You’ll like it. 

Photo by Wojciech Kumpicki on Pexels.com. Why a cat picture? He looks like he wants to know what you think, doesn’t he?

Jody Day and Katy Seppi are offering a free masterclass, “Navigating Mother’s Day as a Childless Woman” on Saturday, May 10 at 11 a.m. PDT. If you register here, you can attend live on Zoom or watch the video later.

The electronic edition of my book No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s is on sale for just 99 cents! The sale will last through May 11, then go back to the usual $9.99 (I don’t set these prices). If you have ever thought about reading NWOOT, as I call it, now is the time. It’s practically free.

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Are children the ties that bind forever?

Sue Fagalde Lick freedom of childlessness, freedom without children , , , , , , , ,

My mother never got over my moving to Oregon. Reading through old journals for an essay I’m working on, I read over and over about how depressed she was after we left, how she suddenly seemed old, how she spent half my visits in tears. If I had known she would die of cancer a few years later, would I have moved?

My father was devastated, too, although he expressed his feelings mostly by criticizing our decision to give up our good jobs and our nice house in San Jose to go live by the beach where we had no jobs and didn’t know anyone. The thing is, I didn’t know it would hurt them so badly, or that it would hurt me, the perpetual daughter with no kids, so much to be away from them. When we said goodbye, my tough-guy father sobbed.

I have never stopped feeling guilty. Every day. If my parents had been able to wish us luck and be happy with their own busy lives, it would have been different. But no, they made it clear we were fools who were breaking their hearts. I thought they would visit often. They didn’t. We visited them. I was just there two weeks ago. At the airport, my tearful father wanted to know when I was coming back. I walked into the terminal trying not to cry.

Why have I never moved back, especially after my husband died? Because it costs too much to live in the Bay Area, and because I like it here. I have built a life in Newport, Oregon that allows me to do the writing and music I have always wanted to do. The air is clean, the traffic is easy, and I meet friends everywhere I go. When I cross the Oregon border coming back from my visits to San Jose, I feel a burden lift. I honk the horn and shout because now I’m in my own place where I can shape my life the way I want to.

What does any of this have to do with not having children? Simply this: If I had children, even adult children, living back in the Bay Area, I would never have left. I would not want to be separated from my sons and daughters and grandchildren. The beach is swell, but they would be too important a part of my life to leave. At least I hope so. I have seen families in which the parents stayed for their children’s sake and then the children moved away. Heck, Fred and I were the kids who moved away.

I did not have children of my own, but I did have three stepchildren and two step-grandchildren by the time we left. They did not factor into our decision. I figured we wouldn’t see them much less than we already did because Fred was not involved in their lives. He had always been a hands-off dad. He didn’t seem to consider them at all in our decision. We did invite the youngest, who had been living with us until shortly after he graduated from high school the year before, to come with us. He declined. The older two offspring were angry at us, much more than they told us about at the time. But here’s the thing: The guilt I feel about them–and I do feel guilty–is considerably less than the guilt I feel about moving away from my parents. Is this because I never grew up and became a mom? Because I don’t know what it’s like to have your children live far away?

Most of my friends here are parents and grandparents. Nearly all of their children live somewhere else. In this rural area supported by tourism and fishing, you have to leave to go to a university or get a good job. So the kids move to Portland or Seattle or another major city. And the parents visit. Everything they do here takes a back seat to the kids and grandkids, and you can’t argue with that. But they have their own lives, too. They don’t pour on the guilt like my parents did. Fred’s parents never did that either. They were happy to send their three sons into the world and get on with their own lives.

How long do you need to stay near your parents? If you have adult children, is it okay to move away from them? If you don’t have children, does that make us wonderfully free to go wherever we want? Are you tied down by your partner’s children, and do you resent it? What do you think about all this? Please share in the comments.