The contradictions of a No Kidding life

Along the same lines as last week, when I talked about holding joy and grief in the same space, I think infertility, loss, and childlessness has taught me a lot about contradictory emotions, or as Lori LL says, the “BothAnd.” So it is easy for me now to feel both loss and gain, sadness even resentment alongside gratitude, to feel pity and anger.

In my example last week, I talked about the joy of travelling. That’s one of the Gifts I mention in my 25 post series about the Gifts of Infertility (or Childlessness). It is a gift, a benefit I can indulge in that is easier because I don’t have children. I was chatting with my SIL the other week, and we were talking about London. I was talking about how we use the Heathrow Express to Paddington, so like to stay around there, or try to find a hotel or flat that is close to a Tube station (London Underground). She mentioned that her sister says it is much more reasonable to take the buses. It’s true, I know that. But it hadn’t crossed my mind, simply because the Underground makes it so easy for two of us to get around London when we visit. Unlike my SIL, we don’t have three kids and their girlfriends/boyfriends in tow, making it exceedingly expensive. My husband and I wouldn’t be able to afford to travel if we had to pay for so many. So while I feel the loss of not exploring the world with my kids, in the way they are able to, I can also see the freedom and benefits of a No Kidding lifestyle that still allows me to explore. Gain and loss, loss and gain, both sides of the same coin.

Likewise, I feel gratitude for the life I am able to live as a woman without children, even at the same time that I feel resentment at the societal assumptions about me and my life. I feel gratitude that I live in a city and society that accepts women without children more than other parts of the world. NZ’s first elected female Prime Minister, Helen Clark, has never had children. Our third female Prime Minister, Jacinda Arden, was elected when she did not have children (though soon announced her pregnancy). Women are, I think, more valued here, less bowed down by religious values and restrictions, and so I feel gratitude for that. But still, we are not immune from the political election cycles that talk about “our children and children’s children,” the tax policies that dramatically favour families, and the social welfare system that relies on families for support, forgetting that so many do not have families (at all, or nearby) to help. And so I hold gratitude and resentment in the same space too.

And even here, in No Kidding in NZ Land, there is always the conflict between embracing and enjoying my life without children, and acknowledging the ongoing loss that is a life without children that was not by choice. How much do I say about each thing? Is it balanced? How has it changed over time? How do I write about the fact that it gets so much easier than it was twenty years ago, without devaluing the loss and the pain that I felt back then? That still creeps up on me.

I guess that’s life, regardless of whether we have children or not. Life and its contradictions are something we all share. I hope I am able to talk about it all honestly here, and so find balance.

Simultaneous joy and sadness

I can’t find if I have written about this before. But for me it is a reminder of the need to accept feelings of joy and sadness at the same time. To know that we can hold both in the same space at the same time. To see this as the start of healing, and know we'll be okay. After my first ectopic pregnancy, my husband and I went to France. I even took steps to ensure I would not be pregnant, as the last thing either of us wanted was a repeat ectopic in a strange country.

We flew in to Paris and picked up a car at the airport, and set off for a month. We relished the freedom of going where and when we wanted. We knew that if we did have a child once we got home, as we hoped, this freedom wouldn’t be possible for a long time. We had the most wonderful time, exploring most of the country, seeing unexpectedly gorgeous scenery and fairy-tale villages, eating amazing food, shopping in markets, practicing my French. We explored the chateaux of the Loire Valley, stayed in famous wine villages, walked through medieval palaces in Avignon, and had a magical day in the Tarn Gorge, choosing a beautiful picnic spot by the Tarn River under the “new” bridge (that was still hundreds of years old) and the willows, eating the most delicious ripe sweet strawberries we had found earlier that day in the market at Uzes.

The sadness from our ectopic pregnancy remained, but all this time later, I don’t actually remember feeling it most of the trip. Except for once. I sat beside the Dordogne River at beautiful La Roque Gageac, and felt overwhelming emotion at the beauty of the old village curving around the river under ancient cliffs. I thought about the fact I wouldn’t be there if we had not lost our pregnancy. I felt the tears coming, but realised that it was possible to feel joy at the same time as feeling grief. One didn’t cancel the other out, and feeling joy was not a betrayal of the one you were grieving. It was rather a chance to snatch a piece of peace and happiness in the world, even in the midst of sadness. A chance to offer our souls some replenishment, and to know that we would survive.

La Roque Gageac

 

Elder care for the No Kidding

I just had a lovely long seaside lunch with a friend. The sky was blue, the waves startling white as they broke, and the kite surfers were relishing the brisk breeze. (I've just had to wash the sand off my face!) I enjoyed a delicious "bliss bowl" and coffee, and we talked and talked. Connections are so important! One of the many topics we covered was elder care, as her last parent is now in a hospital-level care facility. She knows about everything we went through with my mother and my in-laws too.

After The Guardian article (also mentioned here by Loribeth) discussing the UK system for health and care of the elderly, I thought it might be useful to talk about the situation in NZ. According to the article, in the UK "... one in 10 people over 60 don’t have children, but for the over-50s that figure jumps to roughly one in five." It also notes that "older people who don’t have children to help look after them are 25% more likely to need to go into a nursing* home ..."  These are frightening statistics, but also useful ones - for politicians and policy makers and government planners, of course, but also for the No Kidding population. As I've often said, forethought and knowledge can give us an advantage when planning for our old age.

In New Zealand, assisted living care is available, and paid for if your income/assets fall under a particular threshold. At the moment, because of limited facilities and cost, the government focuses on providing assistance to the elderly in their own homes. Both my mother and in-laws had government-supplied assistance. My mother had weekly shopping visits provided, daily welfare checks, and could get minor cleaning and chores done. My father-in-law had similar assistance, with daily welfare checks and physical assistance. Things we didn't even know about were prompted by the assessment process. Household aids - implements to help get out of bed, stools for the shower, etc - were supplied free of charge. There was even day-care for the elderly - when they could be picked up (and dropped off later) and taken to a facility where there would be company and activities for them. Further assistance was available, from welfare checks multiple times a day, through to cleaning services etc. The level of help supplied was based on need, both financial and physical/mental. 

Doctors (GPs) play an important role in this, kick-starting the assessment processes (both physical and cognitive) that then lead to offers of assistance, or the recommendation that the elderly person needs to move to in-house assisted living. All this help was most gratefully received by us all. It meant we didn't have to (as my mother used to fear) "bundle them into an old people's home" before it was necessary/they were ready. My in-laws were adamant they wanted to stay in their own home, even when they knew it was going to be difficult or unwise, but they were able to do so because of this help. (And because of us too!) And as far as the government is concerned, it is a simple economic equation. All this assistance is usually still cheaper** than paying for someone to live in an assisted-care facility. 

Personally, I didn't know all this assistance was available. For any NZers reading, I hope there is some comfort in knowing that we are not completely alone when the time comes that we might need extra help. However, in reality, the system is set up so that the children of the elderly person still need to be major players in ensuring their parents' general well-being. It's one thing receiving this help and having it available. It is another if the elderly have to cope with the health system on their own. Advocates for the elderly are usually their children or a younger relative. Professional advocates could be wonderful - if they existed in NZ - but it would be a role that could lead to elder abuse by less scrupulous members of society. 

My friend revealed plans to build a small house on her daughter's land for her retirement, and joked that there could be a "Mali and Husband" house appear in a few years next to them! That sounds like a nice idea, especially as it will be harder to have such enjoyable long lunches as we age and driving to meet up becomes more difficult. Oh, the conversations*** we could have if we lived next door to each other! But the reality is that we will probably need to have our affairs sorted more cleanly. Writing this is yet another reminder to me to put in writing all our wishes for our waning years, and to think about timing more carefully too. 

Facing our elderly years is not easy for anyone, let alone those of us without children. We hope our savings will ensure we can be looked after. If not, the government will have to do it, though it will be far from luxurious. We're lucky that this is a possibility. But I think the best thing is that we are aware of what is available, and what we will need to think about doing before we are completely infirm. That might be ensuring our documents are all in order, or disposing of most of our private possessions, or a myriad other things. I know I've written about this before, but it is something I think about regularly. That's the greatest gift I can give myself as a childless person - being prepared, rather than being caught in a panic, or waiting till I am confused and befuddled. (Or more so than I already am! lol) I've seen the elderly who don't plan or think ahead. I do not want that to be me.

And in the meantime, I intend to live life to its fullest. Even if that means finishing this blogpost, and going downstairs for a nap on the couch in the sun (still catching up on lost sleep over the Olympics). 

* this is not really a phrase we use in NZ. 

** although part of the reason for this is the criminally low rates paid to the usually kind, devoted elder care workers. Thank goodness too for immigration, which boosts the numbers of carers available as our population ages.

*** with shared family histories of dementia, we once joked to our husbands that when we are old, they can put us in the same care home, and we can tell each other the same stories over and over again, and we'll be none the wiser!

Childless or Childfree: Not that different

I spent the morning chatting with a friend and her younger relative, a student doing a major project (for her degree), about No Kidding issues. How refreshing it was to be able to talk freely! How we could have talked for hours about the topic! How great it is that the younger generation want to explore the issue.

Ultimately, the project focuses on women's reproductive choices, not specifically childless, or childfree, or women who intend to be parents. We’re all subject to the same things though. We all feel the judgement of society, the pressure from friends or relatives to have children, and the isolation from policy discussions. This rampant pronatalism affects us all, and tries to remove our choices, to tell us we are wrong, that our lives aren’t full or happy or valued, or even valid. Pronatalism doesn’t even address the fact that for some of us, there is no choice involved. The choice was made for us. So our pronatalist society shunts us into the “pitiable” box, and forgets about us. Along with the childfree who get put in different boxes in the same forgotten corner. We all get judged first, then ignored. 

I could very much relate to the young women of today, who just want a choice. The old 1980s feminist in me has always only ever wanted to be able to live my life the way I want to, rather than the way others think I should. And so I do. (Well, as much as I can without that lottery win!) It's the only life I have. It's as worthy as anyone else's life. And it is a good one.