Confessions of a Forty-Something: Some No Kidding Thoughts

I’ve just finished reading Confessions of a Forty-Something F**k Up by Alexandra Potter. I think I put it on my to-read list after Loribeth wrote a review on it earlier in the year. I deliberately haven’t read her review (here) until after I wrote this. Thanks again for the recommendation, Loribeth!

It was an easy and entertaining read, one I could relate to, but I had some conflicting thoughts about it. Brief scenario is that a forty-something woman finds herself back in the UK after splitting up from her fiancé, broke and homeless. Hilarity ensues. It is funny. But it is also sad at times, and as a childless readers, there are a lot of moments when I thought, “I could have written this” or "this sounds like me." And even a “I wonder if she read my blog?!”

There was much to like. Here are my favourite points:

• Other people’s lives are never what they seem – whether in real life, or on social media. We all have hidden pain and loss and struggle.
• Guilt and shame and feelings of unworthiness are extremely common. We all just hide it well.
• A new, older, friend shows that life is to be lived, regardless of what happens to you.
• You will come through the other side of pain and loss.
  
• Her FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) can become her JOMO (Joy of Missing Out). It’s the main message of No Kidding in NZ, and I might adopt JOMO (when it is appropriate).
• There is no one way to live life.
• There is no specific way to measure success.
• There is no plan.
• Humour can help us cope.
• But so too does being honest about our lives.
• Being honest can lift a burden – not just for us, but for friends who feel they can share and be honest then too. 
• Friends disappear, but they come back.
• There is no miracle baby.
• She calls out all the ridiculous messages women are inundated with from social media and the media (magazines/celebrity culture, etc)
• And points out how many of these are contradictory.
• That all these points are relevant to those of us without kids, or just to women/people in general.

However, there were things that annoyed me. None of them are particularly surprising to those of us without children, as we are used to seeing stereotypes represented in the media, both fiction and non-fiction. It’s that tendency to try to play things down, not to rock the boat, maintain the status quo.

Here is what I didn’t like (attempting to keep spoilers at a minimum):

• The single childless woman was the butt of all the jokes.
• Childless friends and aunts seem to have to love their friends’ kids. It's compulsory. And of course, some of us do. But not everyone does. And I dislike the way it is presented, in that it’s almost a requirement of being childless, some way of “proving” that we’re “real women.” (See my recent post).
• The childless friend is hurt, but doesn’t complain. (Talk about not wanting to rock the boat!) I had this issue with another similar book, Emma Gannon’s Olive. It’s almost as if the authors don’t want to antagonise mothers (who might also read and buy the book), so they don’t actually call out the mother characters for their obtuse behaviour towards someone they would claim to love. Yet as I wrote recently here, fair is fair. Our feelings matter too. Of course, I understand that this is fiction, and one character can't necessarily represent all our feelings about being childless. In fact, maybe I'm projecting here. Maybe I wanted the character to say everything to her friends that I couldn't say to mine. Hmmmm.
• We all know that friendships change, and often to the detriment of the childless friend. To see that portrayed was fine. But the rekindling of the friendships were done so easily and without hurt that it seemed unrealistic to me. Will the childless ever feel totally safe in those friendships again? That’s never an issue that seems to be raised. Maybe that's a different book. Or says more about me than the author.
  
• The idea that there has to be some form of a prescription ending that is happily ever after. Unfortunately, life isn't like that, and the book almost betrays its purpose, and the majority of its message, by going there, by defining what society thinks should be a "happily ever after" storyline. And surely, happily ever after is different to everyone.
  

Fortunately, I think the majority of the narrative portrays the feelings of single and or childless women in a reasonably accurate way. It certainly voices our insecurities, our reactions to media and social media stereotypes, and calls out smug celebrities. And of course, just like with Olive, it was very pleasing to see a childless main character and story arc. Still, I hope that future books don't automatically portray a single and/or childless woman as a basket case (or f**k up). I hope that future books aren't so rare that they are comment or review worthy. May this become so common that one day it's just a book, and people both with and without kids can read it on its literary merits. I know, I'm a dreamer. But I can hope.

Social Interactions when Childless

I write about No Kidding issues every week, and have been doing this for years. Does that mean I am over-sensitised to the issue, as some might claim? Maybe. But it also means that I am very aware of being a minority in this pronatalist world. Others might shrug. But I notice. Comments, attitudes, the choice of a simple word, or descriptor, that I wouldn't use, or that isolates me and my community. And often, in that instant, I am torn. Do I make a point? Just ignore comments? Or try and educate? I don't have a strict policy. It always depends on the person, the circumstances, and how I’m feeling.

A social event this weekend was in many ways remarkable in that there were so many topics to talk about, and so many people with interest in the wider world, that the issue of kids hardly came up. The party was hosted by a friend. She and her partner don’t have children either, and nor do several of her friends I’ve previously met. Anyway, we were all of an age where any children would have left home, so it wasn’t part of the lively conversations that we had. (Well, except for her niece and nephew, but I’ve met their kids, so could talk about them easily and comfortably.) So there I was, happily chatting away with new people, people we’d heard about from our friends for years, and some people I hadn’t seen for 30 years.

I got chatting to someone I haven’t known socially, but worked with for a very short time way back in the late 80s. I mentioned a very happy time in my life, when I had a variety of work (boards, consulting) and also volunteered. She asked about the volunteering. Oh, I said, it was for an overseas medical charity, thinking that the “medical” information might have been enough of a hint. She asked for more details. “Okay,” I thought, “you asked for it!” I explained that I’d volunteered for six years for an ectopic pregnancy charity, the only one in the world that we knew of, that provided online support and advice. She nodded, and noted that she had had an ectopic pregnancy too. You never know, you know? We chatted about it, and about the health system. I then realised that I’ve heard her name (and her husband’s, who I also knew from way back then) a lot from our mutual friend, but never with any discussion of children. I didn’t ask her, and she didn’t ask me. It was refreshing. A little bonding experience, that neither of us felt the need to take any further at the time. (Though now I need to check with my friend to see if they did in fact have children.)

I then got chatting to another woman. We had worked together at our first job post-university, but needed to be introduced to recognise each other (her hair was now short, and mine was now long and grey)! I’d also heard her news from our mutual friend over the decades, and vice versa. We were joking about Swedish Death Cleaning, and she made a comment about the kids being gone, and so we are all ready to leave our big family homes and downsize. I don’t know if I winced, but I must have reacted. I think I stammered a bit. Not because it hurt, but more because I don’t like people to assume that everyone has a “big family home” and so was trying to think how to respond without making a big deal of it. (Even though I still live in what might have been our "big family home.") So of course, she asked if we had children. “No,” was the only answer I needed to give. And then we just continued with our conversation. It’s so nice when people pick up on cues, and don’t pry!

When I was first going through the pain of lost pregnancies and new childlessness, I didn’t want to have to talk about my circumstances to anyone except those closest to me. I didn’t want to risk getting upset, or angry. I don't have that concern now. Then I worried about being seen as other, as being judged. These days, I'm more likely to judge them if they judge me, so that's less of an issue too! And sometimes I wonder if I should be educating everyone, with proselytising zeal. And then when I don’t, I feel guilty.

But you know, these days, I have a choice. I’m not concerned about upsetting anyone by talking about my reality. They talk about theirs, I talk about mine. Fair is fair. And my reality is being childless in a pronatal world. I’ve commented a few times recently on social media posts, for example, gently reminding some mothers that you don’t have to be a mother to care for X or Y. Equally, I feel I do enough here, and elsewhere, that I don’t have to educate every person I meet. I no longer feel guilty if I don't take the opportunity to educate people, even if I am in fact more likely now to take those opportunities. 

So each time, I assess the circumstances of the conversation – who I am with, where we are, how well I know them. In this case, I was surrounded by people happily celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday. It was not a time to talk about the realities or stereotypes or assumptions about those of us without children. And I'm very comfortable with that. It's a sense of freedom that I’ve given myself. I hope you feel that way too.

 

 

Holiday Companion Giveaway

I posted ten days ago about the giveaway of Life Without Baby's Holiday Companion ebook. Lisa and Kathleen's intention was to give themselves—and their childless-not-by-choice readers—inspiration and encouragement to get through the tender holiday season.

For its 10th Anniversary, they’re celebrating the healing this book has provided by giving away FREE EBOOKS to anyone who wants one. From today through Tuesday, October 31 (US time zone), you can download yours, if you follow this link here.

 

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!

A giveaway!

In the (northern) autumn/fall of 2013, Lisa Manterfield and Kathleen Guthrie Woods (the inspiring duo who blogged at Lisa's Life Without Baby) pulled together their most helpful holiday-related blog posts from their blog and compiled them in one book, HOLIDAY COMPANION. Their intention was to give themselves—and their CNBC readers—inspiration and encouragement to get through the tender holiday season.

This month, they're celebrating the good healing this book has provided by giving away FREE EBOOKS to anyone who wants one. They asked me (and others) to share this with our followers. Feel free to share with your own.

The giveaway will run from Friday, October 27, through Tuesday, October 31. They'll be posting announcements on Facebook and Instagram on both those days.  And I'll see if I can share their posts here. Mark it in your diaries, and pop back here to find how to get the books.

 

Here's to making the holidays a little merrier this year.