Cliches - not always as simple as they seem

 I was reading some pronatalism/childless/childfree articles, and got thinking. I don't feel the gap between the childless and childfree, because I have been both. In my earlier years, I had no desire to be a mother or have children. I didn't have much younger siblings, or cousins that I knew well. I never wanted to "play house" or play with dolls. My mother's life was not enviable to me. It looked like unrelenting work, little social interaction (living in the country on a farm), etc. I was interested in being outdoors, or reading of other places and worlds, and dreaming of escape. As a teenager and young woman, I knew I was part of the first generation of women who could actually have a career as a right, whereas women before me had to fight for everything, for contraception, entrance into professions, universities, careers, etc. (Which is not to say I haven't had to do that, but my university classes and work places were filled with men and women of equal talent, which had not been the case for my predecessors. Or even for me when I was at primary school.) I bristled at assumptions that I would do things just because I was female. I'm sorry - I'm sure I am repeating myself in this rant.

So it wasn't until I was in my 30s that I wanted children. And with infertility issues and pregnancy losses, it hit me hard. Twenty years later, I'm still writing about the subject. Because I'm living it. 

Yes, I am a cliche. I'm the woman who didn't want children, until she did. The one who "changed her mind." The one that people warn against, that doctors use as an example and as an excuse not to perform sterilisation procedures, the one who causes the genuinely-held feelings and desires of women to be dismissed. And I hate that my example could be used to shame young women, or restrict their choices, or pressure them into something that they do not want or are not ready for. It infuriates me.

Because I wasn't ready until I was, in fact, ready. And I was determined that I wasn't going to be pressured to be ready before that. I was determined people were not going to stereotype me into a role just because of my biology. I don't think I ever said "I will never have children." But I said, often, "not yet" or "not now." Not knowing was fine. Normal even. It certainly was for me. 

Loribeth at The Road Less Travelled referred to an article about pronatalism, which talks about all the pressure still on women to have children. My head was ready to explode after reading it. Over forty years since I was at university, putting structure to my feminism, and what has changed? I finished the article full of everything I wanted to say to all those people who are promoting pronatalist policies and points of view: Let people make their own choices. Accept their realities, rather than trying to impose yours. Don't be a hypocrite. Don't have double standards for women and men. I never had a lot of pressure on me to have children. Sure, there were expectations, but at least my close family members were tactful about it. (Unlike the uncles and aunts at my wedding!)

These days, I fully appreciate the opportunities I have had and still have without children. But I am also cognisant of the losses my husband and I have experienced, and continue to experience. Lori Lavender Luz often talks and writes about the concepts of Both And. Nothing explains my life without children better than Both And. Joy and opportunity, loss and exclusion. If I had never said "I am ready" then it would have been okay too. I would not have regretted it. I do not regret waiting until I was ready. No-one is a cliche. We all have our reasons and stories and lives, and we are all different. Just let us be who we are.

 

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>) 

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.

 

Language and assumptions

I'm a fan of words. I love the nuances of language, and languages. Language tells us so much about cultures and individuals and history and colonialism and oppression and dominance and, thankfully, change. And language too is so much part of pronatalism, and oppresses and disadvantages those of us who are not parents. How "as a mother" is supposed to convey a degree of sanctity and superiority. How childLESS focuses on the LESS part of our lives, and not on the full part of our lives that we live when we find we can't have children. Etc.

So as a fan of words, I am a fan of those who make words accessible. I bought a great book years ago called The Meaning of Tingo, which shares words in different cultures and languages that have no equivalent translations. And I am a fan of Susie Dent, an English exicographer and etymologist. She has a Word of the Day on social media, and I love these. She introduced me to a favourite word - "scurryfunge" - which means the frenetic cleaning you do in anticipation of a visitor arriving. I'm an expert scurryfunger! In fact, scurryfunging is how my house remains clean. There aren't too many other motivations to do so!

Anyway, one of her words of the day was "ultracrepidarian." It's a 19th century word that means one who loves to give their opinion on matters they know nothing about. It's perfect for the world today. But equally, it is perfect to describe those people who think they know what it is like to be a person living a No Kidding life. Especially parents. 

So now you know. If someone starts assuming that your life is free, with no responsibilities, no regrets, no "what-ifs"  you can stop them in their tracks, and say, "oh, you're an ultracrepidarian!" If they start telling you that you're sad, or that you don't know love, that your life is gloom and doom, or that your life is unfulfilled just because you don't have children, you can respond with, "oh, you're another ultracrepidarian!" 

Then explain what it means. And see if they get it! 

Disclaimers: 

1) I have not tried this, but I'd love to have the opportunity. 

2) I thought it was time to have a fun post!

The Freedom of No Kidding Travel

 For the last month, my posts have been pre-written and scheduled. I haven't been able to comment much on any of your comments, but I have been trying to keep track of them. I haven't been doing much reading or commenting elsewhere either. Why? Because we have been on a fabulous month-long holiday (I'll write more about it over on A Separate Life in the next days/weeks) celebrating our life together in southern Africa. And there are some pics on my (at)travellingmali Instagram page if you're curious.

As usual after a trip, I think about the questions about kids. The first time we got it was from a honeymoon couple from New York. Clearly they are thinking about children. I just said, "no" to the "do you have?" question, and they said smoothly, "so you're here, doing things like this!" and it wasn't clear if they meant it as compensation, or explanation, and I didn't clarify either. It was easy, and we let it go. Then one of the staff talked about his planned wedding later this year, and the plans that they will get pregnant within the next year, move and change jobs all to ensure good schooling for their as yet unconceived child. DH and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. The thing is, it will probably work out for them. It does for most people. But the ignorance of his confidence that nothing will go wrong really struck us.

We were asked about kids elsewhere. Nowhere were we asked any follow-up questions. People were polite, and easily able to pivot to another topic of conversation. Where appropriate, I asked simple questions about their kids. But I found it all very easy. Mostly.

The highlight was at the very beginning of our trip. On safari, we shared our vehicle with a couple from the UK who were about our age or just a few years older. We had a lovely time with them. I said to my husband after a couple of days that I was sure they didn't have children either. It hadn't been mentioned, almost pointedly, by either of us. In fact, it actually took me a day or two to realise that neither of us had brought it up. How liberating is that? I felt so free and relaxed, and didn't even think about the issue.

Towards the end of our days together, I was chatting to the other woman, asked her to forgive me asking the question, and asked it myself. I felt awful doing it, and so as soon as she confirmed my guess that no, they didn't have children, I assured her that we didn't either, and apologised for the question.  She made me laugh. "If I'd had kids, I would have told you all about them by now!" I agreed, saying that this is why I thought I could ask the question. Neither of us talked about why we weren't parents. I suspect again that we were both childless not by choice, simply the way that we talked about the subject. But there was no need to know. We'd had a lovely time together, have exchanged emails, and hope to meet again.That's all that mattered. 

We were away for over four weeks. It was not school holidays, so we rarely encountered children on our travels. (Well, except for the hundreds of kids on school trips in one part of South Africa - though they just made us smile.) How lovely it was to feel part of a place, of experiences, of life, without feeling that our reproductive status was in any way relevant. There was just freedom. Bliss. Joy.

A No Kidding getaway, and an unrelated dilemma

Just a couple of things. First, I missed blogging last week basically because I forgot! But I forgot for very good, No Kidding reasons. My husband and I went away for a few days. We left on Sunday, staying overnight with friends, and so I hadn't even thought about my Monday blog. Then on Monday, we continued driving north for a few days in a lovely foodie region for my birthday. It's not a special birthday, but we decided to get out of the city for a change. Fbk reminded me that we do this, to the same region, about every six years. It seems that we've found the perfect spring destination. I've written about it here on A Separate Life. 

We decided to go relatively recently, because we could squeeze in the visit between the end of the October school holidays, and before the long weekend due to a public holiday today, so there were no families travelling, only singles and couples of various ages, making travel very easy. Then our friends over the hill asked us to stay on the way, which was the perfect start to a trip away, and we decided that only late last week. Their kids are adults, and so we could both be relatively spontaneous. We could have convinced them to come with us, except that one of them had to work. It's lovely being able to be "no kidding" with my parent friends whose kids are all grown and doing their own thing. 

The second thing is an issue which has me in a bit of a dilemma. The dilemma may not exist if I didn't have children, or at least, not to the same extent. I haven't even been able to discuss it with others, simply because I'm not sure anyone will understand, childless or not. Ironically, I think childfree people would in fact understand. Sigh. I also know one or two who read this blog who might not, so I'm going to be deliberately obscure. It's a dilemma because my husband and I want to set limits around our own lives. And even though we are pretty much in agreement, he is relaxed and comfortable with these limits, and I feel guilty. Even though I know that ultimately, if I don't set the limits, I will get stressed and feel resentful. But, of course, I feel guilty because I imagine (yes, here come the negative thoughts!) that others will judge me for this. Even though I think at least one of them would probably make the same decision. I feel guilty because I (see, it is all me!) imagine others saying that it is because we are childless. That we are selfish. That we'd be different if we had had children. Et cetera. You know the drill. 

There's a difference between banishing my own negative thoughts, and still caring about about what others think or say about me. Does that make sense? I want to be considerate. Yet I want to stand my ground too. After all, my life is still full, even if I don't have children. (Or a job! lol) And maybe if we had had children, we would have different limits. But that never happened. And ... I guess I shouldn't feel guilty about that. Progress? Maybe. I knew that writing this down might help. But now I just need to convince my psyche of that. Wish me luck!

Life meanderings

 As some of you will know from my other blog (A Separate Life), I have been travelling this last month.I hinted at it a few weeks ago in this post about reclaiming the country when the children are back at school (and their parents at work), when I said "we reclaim the shops and restaurants and roads and ferries and tourist spots, and secluded outdoor areas. Next week it's all for us! I can't wait." Perhaps you thought there was more than the usual enthusiasm for having cafes and malls and cinemas free of children? There was.

Like many people, we discovered, we waited until school holidays were over before we drove onto the ferry (conveniently berthed about five minutes from our house) and set sail for the South Island. (Or so we thought - there was a delay and the usual 3 1/2 hour trip took 6 hours!) We've spent the last 3 1/2 weeks traversing the South Island, going to places we'd been before, but never really explored. Doing some new things. Reliving childhood memories. Seeing family. Eating too much. Drinking a bit much, though we were remarkably restrained, I thought! Taking a LOT of photos. I've put just a few on Instagram (I'm travellingmali there), and I'm planning to blog about the trip in more detail either on A Separate Life or a new space.

The trip was blissfully child-free. Sure, there were children some places, and some of them were amusing, cute, or both. They enhanced our trip. But the places we went weren't flooded with them, and that made it very relaxing. I know I'm privileged to be able to travel for this long at a time of my choosing. I know not all of you can do it. So I'll stop there.

I had the inevitable "are you having a nice Mother's Day?" question at a hotel reception. It was funny, because even when she said it, she didn't look as if she wanted to. "I'm not a mother," I responded. "So ... no." She immediately apologised profusely. It made me wonder if she'd been told to ask the question of women of a certain age (what that might be, over 18?), and had - for whatever reason, objected to that. I felt for her. Her apology was very much for the question, whereas I also received (somewhere, I can't remember where) an "I'm sorry" when I said that I did not have children, which was wholly pitying. Kind, perhaps, but judgemental too. Tone of voice and context is so important.

Anyway, it's kind of nice to be home. The holiday was a good break between clearing up FIL's house and estate, and the rest of my life. I feel a little like I did when I was coming out of the grief of the permanent no-kids diagnosis. What shall I do with the rest of my life? What is the next big thing? And then I remember. Life is the next big thing. And I need to live it. We don't have the responsibilities we have had the last decade, so things can change, if we want them to. That's what I'm figuring out now. But there's no rush. 

A No Kidding Holiday*

 Well, we had such a lovely time away on our trip, I missed posting last Monday! I wasn't organised enough to have pre-scheduled posts already written, so I just let it slide. Although I feel kinda naughty saying that, it also felt good to let the Monday drift by!

I often assess my trips here, noting if there were any instances that made me feel childLESS rather than childFREE. I am wondering if that is healthy, even while I bristle slightly at a conversation at my sister's place. A friend of hers had visited, and she (the friend) made one of those all-sweeping comments about having or dealing with children "as we all do." I bristled, but I bit my tongue. I wasn't really part of the conversation, and I was in my sister's house, so I restrained myself. You should be proud of me, because I didn't even roll my eyes. (That took considerable self-discipline!) It just wasn't the time or the place.

I wish I didn't have to consider the time or place to point out the inherent bias in these comments. I wish people just thought a little more before uttering these asides. After all, she's been a long-term friend of my sister, and certainly will know my history, or at the very least, the fact we don't have children, and that it was not our choice. It felt (vaguely, and perhaps just in my imagination) ever so slightly deliberate. It wasn't necessary to the sentence. And there was a hesitation before she said it, speaking almost defensively. Standing the ground of the parented, perhaps? Or wanting to be sensitive, but realising she'd already started the sentence? I don't know. It doesn't really matter. But it is funny how tiny little things can stay with us.

On the bright side though, we had a lovely trip which would simply not have been possible at this time of the year with children, even children in their mid-late teens, as our ectopic babies would be by now. There would be exams, and end-of-year functions, and summer sport. But we took advantage of the clearer roads and destinations between October school holidays and the summer holidays which start in mid-December. It was bliss. I'm not kidding.

* Holiday = vacation