I am ME: World Childless Week 2023

It is World Childless Week.
Today we celebrate who we are, rather than who we are not. 

This is one of my favourite things on this blog, and in my life - to focus on who I am and what I am doing, rather than what I am missing out on, and the fact I am not a parent.

Over ten years ago, I wrote a list of 100 things that emphasise who I am, rather than what or who I am not. I updated it seven years later in 2019 here, and in a year or two it might be time to do it again!

This is why I wish there was a word for women who were whole and Not Kidding, rather than labelled with regard to an absence - whether it is as childLESS or childFREE. I guess it's impossible, because it is that absence that brings us together. It frustrates me though. And I'm sorry for the rant. Long time readers will be familiar with this!

Meanwhile, this is my 2023 version of #IamME. A photo taken with a selfie stick (given to me by a selfie-expert niece) in my garden. With a bit of editing, because I'm camera shy.

You can find all the other photos from other wonderful No Kidding people, with a lot of inspirational comments, here, uploaded throughout the day.

 

 

 

The grass is always greener ... or is it?

It is World Childless Week.
Today we are talking about the comment parents make, “you’re so lucky to not have kids” and the question, “Do you consider yourself lucky?” 

If I’d been told 20 years ago that I was lucky to not have kids I would have been angry. Such a comment ignores what I have lost, minimises it, dismisses it. I’ve long known that most people don’t see our losses, ever since a friend said, “but you never had anything, so you haven’t lost anything,” as I was recovering from my second ectopic pregnancy. That feeling of being misunderstood is not new to me. But twenty years on, I know now that the comment “you are lucky” tells me more about the mindset of the questioner than it does about my own life.

Yes, I would still be annoyed today that someone could be so thoughtless. But I also see that for many, the grass is always greener on the other side. Being a parent is difficult. Being childless is difficult. And if all we can do is envy the other side, then we are stuck in a mindset of envy, of dissatisfaction, and unable to see the realities of life. No one lifestyle is perfect, without trouble or hardship, without heartache. A parent who looks at our lives and thinks we are free and easy with no responsibilities is being shallow and thoughtless. And if those of us without children envy parents, then we are ignoring the realities of their lives, the stress, the difficulties, and the worry that come along with the joy and love for which we have yearned. Ignoring the complexities of life is superficial thinking. Sadly, we are all guilty of it from time to time.

Yes, there are many times I feel lucky not to have children, just as there are many times when I do not feel lucky. There is a long list of things I will never do because I don’t have children, but equally there is a long list of things I can do as well, because I don’t have children. I have written on my blog about the 25 gifts that I feel infertility and childlessness have given me. Some of those would come with parenthood. Some might not. Some were lessons painfully learned. Some were freedoms and friendship and travel. I have learned not to feel guilty about that. It took some time.

However, I think I feel lucky for other, much more important reasons too. I have learned to adapt and be resilient, even if my life has turned out differently than I had intended. I am lucky that I can embrace my life without children. I do so joyously, without the guilt that comes so easily at first. I am lucky that I can see and feel the benefits of this life without children, and feel happy and content living this life. I am lucky that I have accepted what is, and I am not stuck, not forever grieving, nor am I yearning for something that can never be. I am lucky that I am not living in regret. This is not to say that regret and sadness and loneliness and other losses never raise their heads. They do. But they are not constant companions, as they might have been in the early days of navigating this No Kidding life. I can appreciate what I have now.

How tragic it would be to have this life I have been given, and not to live it to its fullest. What a waste of the years of grief and loss to refuse to appreciate the wonderful parts of my life, to refuse to breathe deeply and yes, to feel lucky. If we practice self-compassion and care, we can nurture the grass on this side of the fence until it is lush and green and welcoming. Life is not always greener on the other side.

 

Forever Stereotyped or Invisible

It is World Childless Week.
Today we are talking about the Childless in the Media.

In the 1980s, when I was just starting to make my way in the world, there was a real freedom for young women. Our lives did not have to be defined by our biology. We could pursue careers and opportunities beyond those of becoming a wife and mother. We could choose if and when we might become a parent. The world was our oyster. Little did I know that whilst opportunities would exist for me that my mother never had, society’s stereotypes and restrictions would manifest again in rampant pronatalism, duplicating the expectations and judgements that she was subject to back in the 1960s.

There are two main stereotypes about those without children that permeate our societies. We are either the carefree and selfish childfree, or the pitiable childless who dwell in eternal misery, regretting the lives we never had, or worse, becoming unhinged, wanting to take other people’s children. These stereotypes are recreated in the media again and again. But neither are true representations of people without children, who are as varied as any other group in society. Those of us who wanted to but couldn’t or didn’t have children – commonly called the childless – learn to accept our situation and to embrace our lives without children. Yet when we do so, we simply become stereotypes again; the “selfish” people without children, with no responsibilities.

The stereotypes are hard to avoid. The “miracle baby” stereotype is well entrenched in the media. Articles about infertility or assisted reproduction almost invariably end with a “happily ever after” case of a surprise baby or final successful IVF cycle. There is little or no acceptance of a life that doesn’t end this way. Little acknowledgement of the statistics showing most people do not get these results. No challenges to the stereotype that the only outcome worth talking about is the one that ends with a baby. And almost never any exploration of what it might be like to be the ones who go on to live without children. We are ignored. Hidden. Dismissed.

I was once interviewed for an article about Christmas by a national media organisation. They wanted to write about Christmas for the childless, and how isolated we might feel. I said that societal and media messaging concentrates on Christmas and holidays are only for children, and completely forgets those of us without them (or with children who are estranged, or live overseas, etc). My main point was that we can reclaim Christmas – a message I have been emphasising on my blog No Kidding in NZ for more than ten years. Christmas is not just for children, and we can establish our own traditions, do what we enjoy, carve out time alone, and make it special for us too. When the article was published, this point was ignored entirely. The narrative they wanted was that childless people were sad and lonely.

Of course, the “selfish” stereotype is common in articles too. The truth is that people without children – whether childfree or childless or a mixture of the two – help each other, take on important roles in our societies and communities and extended families, volunteer, and give to charity. We do this more widely and frequently than those who are parents. We help the elderly in our family when the parents are too busy to do so, but often with expectation, rather than acknowledgement and gratitude from our siblings/cousins etc. The definition of “selfish” is skewed too. After all, what is selfish about simply living our lives when there is no other good alternative? So what if I can take a trip when parents have children in school? That’s not being selfish, it is simply being practical. Such lazy reporting is sadly too commonplace in today’s media.

Likewise, reporting about elections brings an onslaught of messages about “families” or hopes for “your children’s children” from politicians. In an election here in just a month or two, I have little hope there will be challenging questions from reporters that might consider the needs of all members of society, especially those of vulnerable people who don’t have families around to help them.

Sadly, pronatalism is so strongly entrenched in our society that even journalists, supposedly taught to question and probe and investigate, seem oblivious to their bias. I would be delighted to see this change. But I admit I am not hopeful.

 

People who hurt us: World Childless Week

I’m starting to think about World Childless Week 2023, and the topics that are up for discussion this year. There are the usual Moving Forwards, We are Worthy, and #Iamme categories. I've contributed to them a couple of times, and might do the #Iamme again this year too. I love these topics because different people comment every year, can remember that they are more than just being childless, and we can all be reminded that yes, we ARE worthy, and that we do move forwards regardless.

There is a category this year that I think is really interesting. It is a “Letter to the Person who Hurt Me the Most.” Writers are encouraged to release their anger, disbelief, confusion and rage. I’ve been living a No Kidding life for almost twenty years now, so my memories might have faded a little. But I realise that I’ve also been lucky. There is no one person who “ripped my childless heart apart.” Yes, I heard some unkind thoughtless comments over the years, and they have stayed with me, at times inspiring blogs. You may recognise some of these:

•  “You never had anything so you never lost anything.”
•  “Childless people don’t know what they’re missing. So my pregnancy loss is more painful than theirs.”
•  “Childless people’s lives don’t change.
• Childless people are superfluous.
• “What’s wrong with you?”
• “As a mother I …”
• “You need to hold someone else’s baby. The Chinese believe that will help you conceive.”
• “I don’t care if I have a miscarriage. I know I can always get pregnant again.”
• “No-one cares about travel photos, only family photos.”
• “You don’t care about the future because you don’t have kids?”
• “My wife never had any problems.”
• “Tough, that’s life!”

Actually, several of the above comments came from one person, ironically someone I will see in the next few weeks. I’m shrugging. I don’t expect that particular person to ever be more thoughtful. The one time I called them out (in an extremely mild way) resulted in an attack on me, and one of the comments above. So I don’t need to write a letter to them.

Also, actions speak louder than words. The parent friends who never/rarely invited me to babysit or to the kids’ birthday parties. The family member who said they would never acknowledge a theoretical adopted child as a member of the family, and acted accordingly. The family members who ignored our wishes and efforts and circumstances, but always made excuses for the bad behaviour of those who were parents in the family. The genealogists who marginalised us, and the older family members who implied we were irrelevant. The bloggers who wanted us silenced when we wanted to have our realities acknowledged and considered.

And then there were the things that were not said. Never being asked about how we felt. Never having the realities of our life acknowledged. Never being told they were sorry.

But I’ve gone over and over these comments, actions, and silences over twenty years, and don’t want to re-enter that world of anger and hurt. It’s not going to help me. But it might help you, or others who are not as distanced from the grieving periods. But there will be a lot of women and men who have been tremendously hurt, but have hidden that. They may have hidden their anger too. Maybe they’ve even suppressed it out of misperceived guilt. Maybe it has destroyed their confidence, silencing them. This could be a way to reclaim that. This could be a wonderful opportunity to get some things off your chest. You can do it anonymously too. I admit I’m looking forward to the writings in this category, as it could be cathartic. But I’m dreading it a little, too.

Have a look at the other topics in this year’s World Childless Week. Think about making a submission. I’m keen to see what people might come up with. I’m going to think some more on these issues - hopefully before the deadline of 27 August!