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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!

Childless by Marriage is all grown up–and we have an audiobook now

Sue Fagalde Lick Childless by Marriage book, Love or Children, World Childless Week , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Childless by Marriage the book is a teenager. Published in 2012, it’s not the bestseller I had hoped it would be, but it’s a good book, and I hope it has helped people understand what it’s like to not have children because your partner is unable or unwilling to make babies with you.

It has lots of siblings now, including Love or Children: When You Can’t Have Both, which includes some of the most popular posts and comments from the blog between 2007 and 2020. There have been many new posts since then, and they are all archived on this site.

When Amazon offered a chance to create an audiobook version of Childless by Marriage, I went for it. The voice is computer-generated, not mine, but I like the way she sounds. This makes the book accessible to people who are visually impaired or who simply prefer to listen to books while they do other things.

While I was listening to the audio version, following along with a printed copy of the book, I discovered typos and words left out or misspelled. I was horrified. Typos in books drive me crazy, so I had to fix them. I spent many hours doing that last month. I am happy to report that I have now corrected and updated all versions, print, Kindle ebook, and audio. You can buy them at Amazon.com, or your favorite bookstore can order the print book through Ingram.

One good thing about producing books instead of children, especially in the computer age, is that you can go back and fix your mistakes. You can’t do that with most things in life. If for some reason you can’t have the children you wanted, you can’t go back to the original Word file and change the story of your life. Instead, you’re forced to make a tough decision. Do you accept the situation as it is, find a new partner, adopt, or try IVF? Do you settle for fur-babies or open a daycare? Do you grieve the loss or embrace the childfree life, or a little of both?

As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I will soon stop blogging here. By the end of August, I will have shared 900 posts. If the book is a teenager, the blog is old enough to move out and live on its own. It’s time to let it go.

All of the posts will remain online for you to read, along with my resource page, bibliography, and updates on all things childless. I plan to create an index, but meanwhile, you can search right here on this page for whatever interests you.

I will also continue my Childless by Marriage Facebook page and would love to see some of you there.

At this point, my life is so far past the question of whether or not to have children that it’s time to let younger writers take the stage. There are many of them with so many more books, blogs, podcasts and support groups for people who are childless not by choice.

We even have a World Childless Week, hosted by Stephanie Joy Phillips, which offers tons of talks and workshops, readings, and resources, all online. This year it will be Sept. 15-21. Visit https://worldchildlessweek.net for more information.

One of the strongest voices in the no-kids community is Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women and author of Living the Life Unexpected. She has passed her own torch to Katy Seppi, who continues the work as The Childless Collective. Meanwhile, Jody has turned her attention to childless older women and is doing wonderful work there. Read her newsletter and subscribe to her Substack, https://jodyday.substack.com.

Not so long ago, people didn’t talk about childlessness. If someone didn’t have children, there were whispers about possible infertility—poor thing—but no one said anything out loud about it. But times have changed, and our numbers have risen. We can share our stories without shame so people can know and understand. No more secrets.

Question: As I prepare my last few posts, what do you wish someone had told you as you faced the possibility of life without children?

Nomo Crones meet next week

Jody Day hosts quarterly “Childless Elderwomen Fireside Chats” with women from all over the world. I have been lucky to participate in most of them. We have discussed everything from aging alone to how to deal with obnoxious questions about our parenting status. On Saturday, June 28, at 11 a.m. Pacific time, we “NomoCrones,” as Jody calls us, will discuss the often-buried subject of menopause and life beyond our fertile years. As always, it will be lively, with plenty of laughter and probably some tears. You can register to join us anonymously at bit.ly/gwe-meno. You will not be seen or heard, but the chat is always a big part of the festivities. The session will be recorded, so you can listen live or whenever you want to.

Meanwhile, Jody has published a terrific post about menopause and aging without children. You can read it here.

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

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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Does Your Partner Step Up When Childlessness Hurts?

Sue Fagalde Lick Uncategorized , , , ,

Reminders that we don’t have children are hard to avoid.

  1. Friends and family gathered in a rented hall in Yachats, Oregon at tables laden with flowers under hanging “90” banners.

The seemingly ageless woman who ushers at Saturday Mass was turning 90. Her family had gone all out to surprise her. Friends and cousins had flown across the country. Children, grandchildren and a 14-month-old great grandchild were there.

I sat with friends from church. We chatted and nibbled on cannelloni, fruit, rolls, and crackers until we got the word to hush.

In she came, too shocked to speak for a minute. Her daughter wrapped a beauty queen banner around her and we continued the party. There were pictures, stories, a fancy cake and champagne. Photos under a flowered arch.

I was happy for the guest of honor—and so jealous. Who will throw me a 90th birthday party, if I live to that age? The older people in my life will be dead by then, and I have no children or grandchildren.  

Maybe I shouldn’t assume. Maybe my niece and nephew and their kids, grown up by then, would be thrilled to honor me. Maybe I’ll throw my own party.

2. From the party, I drove to church. It was Mother’s Day weekend. I would hide if I could, but I play the piano at the Saturday Mass, so I can’t avoid the mother mania.

A wonderful woman who volunteers for everything interrupted choir practice with a box of floral corsages. Real flowers, very pretty, all different colors. I said, “I am not a mother.” She pished that away and pinned a yellow corsage on my blue sweater.

By the time Mass started, all the women had corsages. You could not tell the mothers from the non-mothers. Maybe that’s good.

Mass proceeded. I sang, I played, I warmed up and took my sweater off. At the end, Father Joseph invited mothers to stand. I sat. “Stand up,” Martha hissed. I shook my head. No. People need to know that some of us don’t have children. In a Catholic parish full of elderly people, we’re a minority, but we exist, and Mother’s Day is difficult. To pretend to be just like everyone else feels wrong.

I may not be a mother, but I’m keeping that yellow chrysanthemum until it falls apart.

3. As a guest at a book club meeting last night, I answered readers’ questions about my novel Up Beaver Creek, which features a childless woman as the main character. One person was curious as to why PD’s childlessness was emphasized. Did I, the author, have children? No, I said, I don’t. I could have said so much about how not having kids can affect a person’s whole life, but I was busy trying to explain that my character is NOT me, that she is someone I made up. I also noted that it isn’t easy to find fiction featuring people who don’t have children. I’m not sure she understood.

Question: All of this led me to wondering. Do the partners who who deny us children understand how it feels at times like Mother’s Day or any gathering where people are surrounded by their kids?

Are they sympathetic? Do they offer any comfort? That’s a big question. I knew my husband was aware and that he cared. At least once, he gave me one of those, “You’re not my mom, but Happy Mother’s Day” cards, and that was helpful.

This shouldn’t be your problem alone. You need to help each other get through the bumpy times. It might not be Mother’s Day. It could be your niece’s christening or the birth of someone else’s baby. It could be a birthday party or a baby shower. It could be an ordinary day when you see a happy family and suddenly burst into tears.

Your partner could suggest an outing far away from the festivities. A hike instead of brunch. A movie that has nothing to do with the holiday. A just-because-I-love-you gift. You should support each other rather than one of you crying in the bathroom and the other doing whatever he or she usually does on that day. Isn’t that what love is about?

I’m just saying if your partner is the reason you have this hole in your life, he or she needs to help you on the occasions that make it hurt.

It should work both ways. Mother’s Day is over for another year, but Father’s Day is coming. Or as frequent commenter Tony says, “chopped liver day.”

What do you think? Does your partner comfort you when the lack of children gets to you? Is this a sore spot between you? Is there someone else you can go to for comfort?

I look forward to your comments.

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