The freedom of caring less

I think I'm the classic middle child; always the peacemaker, the diplomat, the one who thinks about everyone else but not always myself, agreeable. Maybe that's not middle child, maybe it's just me. I was shy too, so a lot of my younger adult life and career was spent pushing myself to do what scared me, and - it felt - to go against some of my natural tendencies. It usually paid off, but it wasn't always comfortable. However, this was really about defending my own views, or even about developing them. As a child, I'd not felt as if my views mattered. As a student, and then a young worker, I had been intimidated by people who would confidently speak up definitively, even when they were definitively wrong! By my late 30s, though, I felt much more confident that before. The humility of a middle child was morphing into someone who could recognise that, actually, I knew as much as (or more than) the people around me, and I felt more able to speak up. 

After a few years out as a result of the confidence-destroying ectopic pregnancies and infertility, it picked up, full steam ahead, in my mid-40s. Especially helpful were the psychology lessons of adapting to my life through pregnancy loss and subsequent childlessness, volunteering daily for the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust where I learned and gained confidence from wise women around me, and then later, blogging. My confidence grew as the way I thought and approached life became more one of enquiry and knowledge and growth. I bit my tongue less, felt better able to discuss rather than just agree even when I had questions or doubts, and decided that other peoples' opinions and feelings (mostly) did not matter more than my own. 

So I'm still polite, but I don't agree with making myself or my views invisible just to keep the peace. I may not have raised children, and therefore I haven't had to sacrifice my own needs or wants or even opinions in that way, but I've certainly silenced myself for years. And it came to a point where I just said enough. These days I own my views, my opinions, my dignity, my worth. And I'll speak up about it if I need to. I'm still measured about it. Thoughtful, I hope. But I don't want to be silent.

Infertile Phoenix here highlighted a blog post that talks about why women in their forties and fifties (and beyond) suddenly stop biting their tongues. Go and read her post, and then the linked post explaining the neuroscience behind it. 

I'm not sure to what extent the neuroscience explains my own transformation - I'm on estrogen-only HRT, but maybe that's not sufficient - and my personal and career development at the time seemed to explain it to my satisfaction before I read the article. But it is still extremely validating to find that I'm not alone in my feelings about previously putting myself last. And that I can be confident in my choices now to put myself first - or somewhere in between, but always with the knowledge that it is up to me, and me alone.  It gives me the freedom to be myself. What a gift!

 

 

Also relevant: 

Gifts of Infertility series: Self-confidence
Gifts of Infertility series: Self-discovery

 

Anxious anticipation, and support

I recently took part in a social media discussion about meeting up with an old friend when we're childless. A poster was nervous - since she had last met up with this friend her long term relationship had broken up, she hadn't had children, and she'd had some difficult times. She was dreading the "what's happened in your life since I last saw you" question. And she felt embarrassed and ashamed about how her life had turned out.

I recognised her feelings acutely, remembering back to the years immediately after my last ectopic and attempts at IVF. I dreaded meeting former acquaintances who had taken on the "earth mother" mantle. I don't have those feelings anymore. If people want to judge me for not having children, or having pursued a different career path, or retiring early (partly by choice, partly not), then that tells me much more about them than anything about me. Because I have had years to deal with this and figure it out, and I'm content.

I said to her that her feelings were familiar. And that the worst of these situations were never how people acted towards me, or reacted to my childlessness (some good, some not so good). The worst was always what I imagined people might say or think about me. This made the anticipation of an event so much more miserable than it needed to be, and always worse than the event ended up being. 

Of course, as I've said here a lot, it was the voice in my head telling me to that they would think I was less, that then made me wonder about it too. But then I realised that I could retrain my brain, ask myself if those thoughts and feelings were true, and then dismiss the thoughts if/when the answer was no. I have written about it, in slightly different contexts, frequently under the label "negative thoughts." With this visual:

 

I reminded her too that she is worthy, worthy of friendship and love, regardless of whether she has children or not, is in a relationship or not, etc. 

There was a lot of good advice for the anonymous poster, and I was so pleased to see social media being used to support and help someone.  Here are some of the best suggestions for her from the others:

1. You are in control of what you tell her and what you don't. Another person said, you don't have to have a deep and meaningful conversation - keep it light, meet over an activity (eg go for a walk) as a distraction.

2. Everyone has something going on. You might be surprised that her life isn't as perfect as it seems.

3. Is the anxiety more about what we internalise from society's expectations of us as women, rather than what she may think of you?

4. Your friend might be feeling nervous too, after such a long gap. "She's going to judge me for being so family oriented," etc. 

5. See it as a low stakes situation. You're just having (insert lunch/coffee/walk etc). If she is judgemental, don't give her any more of your energy, and if she is not, great!

6. Be yourself. You don't need to overshare. Stories can be shared over time. 

7. "Half my friends are single and childless." The social norm is still considered families and mothers, but the reality is different.  There's nothing unusual about you.

8. Highlight the things that make you shine. If she is the right person, talking can be healing. Your friend will be over the moon just to see you again.

 

Looking back on the blog: 2025

This last year my blogging has suffered. I was seriously considering whether I would do a review this year, but I like being consistent, so here goes!

So, looking back on No Kidding in NZ in 2025. I wrote 28 posts here last year, a reduction of almost 50% from 2024, and less than one a week. The reason for that was a major health upheaval for my husband. I just couldn't stick to regular posts. My mind was understandably elsewhere.

It also influenced my theme of the year, writing more about how we give and receive support, as I both received it, and didn't, from various circles. But I also found that coping with diagnoses and treatments and yes, grief and anticipated loss, have similarities with my journey through infertility, pregnancy loss, and childlessness. Many of the lessons from that time have proven to work for me now too. Taking joy in little things. How we want support, and how to support others. (Because life didn't stop, and I had to seriously support a close friend at the same time). And most of all, being kind - to myself, as well as the person I'm caring for. Giving myself permission not to stick to a rigid weekly blogging schedule helped a lot. I'm going to try to blog a bit more this year, but I'm making no promises.

The issues of ageing without children are also topmost in my mind - but perhaps I've articulated those less this last year. I'm sure it will be a theme in 2026. I have a lot of thoughts! 

The end of the year finished on a bright note, when we were able to travel together, once treatments took a pause. We were very lucky to be able to do so. You can find my travel photos on instagram as travellingmali. 

Thanks to those who have stuck by me this year. And whether you comment or not, whether you’re a long time reader or have just stumbled across me for the first time, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Sending love.

Hoping you all have a very safe and happy 2026!  

 

Happy No Kidding New Year!

Hi everyone! I'm sorry I have been away for so long. But I want to say Happy New Year, and send very my best wishes for 2026, whatever it may bring.

My silence has had two reasons. The first was the continuing saga of a health situation, that really took my attention from almost everything - reading/audiobooks/podcasts/radio listening, interesting TV watching  (other than comfort binges), writing (here and on A Separate Life), etc. Suddenly last year, my No Kidding status was secondary to a grim health prognosis, and a different future than I had imagined. That idea at least was familiar.

But the second reason for my silence has been our decision to live life while we can, and to take a bucket list trip. We hope there will be more. We are by no means confident that there will be. So we took the opportunity, and took off. I'm going to blog about it on A Separate Life. But here are some of the No Kidding thoughts I have about it now that we have returned.

We chose a trip that had two possible timings - December/January, or April/May. Our doctor advised that the first was the wisest choice. It did not bother us at all that it was going to occur over Christmas and New Year. A couple of relatives had been seriously thinking about joining us. Until they knew it would be over Christmas. They couldn't possibly be away from their (adult) kids at the time. We shrugged. This was not a problem or obligation or desire that we had to contend with.

Second, the trip included a cruise. It was on a line we wouldn't normally choose, and in general, the passengers made us feel quite young! Whilst kids were allowed (another cruise line advertises itself in NZ as "No kids, no casinos!" lol), there were only about four or five children under ten, and a bored looking teenager. I'm not sure what their parents were thinking. So all the activities were adult-focused.

Thirdly, as we queued for entry to the ship, we got chatting to an Australian couple. Almost instantly, the woman made us aware of how many kids she had, and where they lived. It was as if she was justifying relocating for her retirement. I was amused and a little sad for her that she felt she had to mention this. It seemed as if she had either faced criticism over the move, or wasn't happy with it herself. And I hoped that they were on the cruise out of sheer excitement for the opportunity and itinerary, rather than as a way to fill the holiday period with activity. (Yes, I can overthink things!)

Finally, and most importantly, we met a lot of people on the cruise. Yet, aside from a younger woman mentioning how much better constructed/lighter/easier modern day prams/pushchairs/strollers are these days compared to 15 years ago (and it was in an appropriate context, though that completely eludes me now, so I just nodded), not a single other person mentioned children or grandchildren. Well, apart from the aforementioned Australian woman. (I'm sure the two or three parents who had children with them would have, but we never interacted.) No-one talked about work either. We talked about cruise lines, and food, and destinations, and where we lived. A few people tried politics, but when they didn't get the reactions they wanted, it was easily dropped. It was gloriously without posturing or judgement. (And considering the obvious wealth of some of the people on the cruise, there was plenty of opportunity for that.)

Actually, now I think about it, one other couple mentioned children. They said, quite simply, in a cautious way that I recognised, that they didn't have children so could retire anywhere they chose. "We're in the same position," I said. We then had an interesting conversation about great places to retire, whether to move away from friends, different considerations, etc. Our lack of children, or how that came about, just was not important. But it meant we had things in common.

I compared that with poor Infertile Phoenix's experience on her trip. I don't know if it is our age (though grandchildren discussions could easily dominate), the fact we didn't provide any openings for children/grandchildren discussions (whereas her travelling companions might have), the nature of the cruise line, the nationalities on the cruise (dominated by Australians and Brits), or the itinerary (very much a destination-based cruise rather than swimming and sun and fun), but it was gloriously child free. 

 

 

Time passing

I have a niece staying for a couple of days. She's come from overseas with a friend, and our house is the last stop on a whirlwind tour of half of NZ. I had my first ectopic, and was still being treated for it, in December 2001. We had planned on going south to my family for Christmas, but doctors wanted me to stay close to the hospital, so we had to cancel. And my BIL and SIL arrived with their four month old baby, to meet the in-laws. I don't have much memory of that Christmas, except the first time I saw them with the baby, my BIL absolutely doting on her. It was hard.

24 years later, this intelligent, compassionate, vibrant, beautiful young woman is visiting. It's nice getting to know her as an adult. She mentioned how sad she was that her only female cousins around her age were overseas, and she has never actually met them. I debated saying anything, and then thought it was timely. I don't know what my BIL/SIL have said to her about my ectopics and how we became childless. So I just said, "well, I'm sorry. We did try to give you a cousin about your age." She nodded, and I think she must have known. But it's worth talking about. She's in her mid-20s now, in a long-term relationship, and maybe starting to think about kids. Or not. Her choice. But she needs to know it's not easy. Not everyone gets what they wanted.  Lifestyles can be very different, but still okay. I hope that's her takeaway from our conversation last night, anyway. 

As for me, because I try not to think about it, it was a reminder of the child we could have had, and the stage of life they are in.

However, childless perk alert! I happily think about things that happened 13 years ago, or even 30 years ago, as not that long ago! Until you have two 24 year olds at the table saying, "13 years was a long time ago!" Ouch. But they'll learn! ha ha. And in the meantime, I can be in ignorant bliss about time and ageing, without the constant reminders from young people that I am old! People say kids keep you young. I think not having kids keeps me young. In my head, I'm still about that age! (Okay, maybe a little older. <wink>)