No Kidding in NZ

05 October, 2020

Does the grief stay with you?

I was thinking a bit about grief lately, for several different reasons, prompted by the arrival of Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness month, the discussions around Chrissy Teigen’s pregnancy loss (Loribeth has written a good post about it here, with some links and other resources), blogposts and a question asked by another in our community, and last but not least, the fact that COVID-19 has meant that many people have to grieve losses without the families and support systems that you might get if people could travel easily and congregate.

Disenfranchised grief – grief that is not acknowledged or talked about – is a common feature of not being able to have children. I’ve written quite a lot about it, so what I’m about to say won’t be new. But maybe you haven’t seen what I’ve said in the past. Maybe you want to be reminded of it. And maybe – I know this is the case for some – you will vehemently disagree with it. But I want to put this out there, because it may apply to some of you too.

A lot of people say you never get over the grief, that it stays with you but that you learn to live with it. In some ways, this is true. And I am not denying anyone’s experience who believes that this applies to them. But for me, mostly, I disagree with this, and – as I’ve said before – I don’t like the impression that it gives new arrivals to life without children that they will always feel as bad as they do at the outset. It sounds so ominous, as if there is always that black cloud hovering, as if the depth of the grief you feel at the beginning is always there, waiting for you to let it out. This is not my experience. I don’t have a black cloud hovering. I don’t feel that there is an enormous wave of grief waiting to be unplugged. I let 95% of my grief go, and it has, indeed, gone.

So even though I know life is different for me, even as I might worry about my old age or loneliness if/when I lose my husband, I don't feel that I’m living with my grief. The reality of our losses and the results of that have most certainly stayed with me. I have learned to live with that. And so of course I still occasionally get pangs or feel real sadness about that. But I don't feel that the grief is there any more. It's just something about my life that I feel sad about from time to time. Does that make sense? Unfortunately, it can pop up when you least expect it. I had a moment a few days ago, reminding me unexpectedly painfully of what we have never had. But I wouldn’t call it grief. Loss? Yes, perhaps. A pang of a reminder of what we might have had? Yes. But not grief. It is too fleeting for that. I know that this fades so quickly now, and I can soon get back to a much happier normal.

I’ve learned to live with my situation, and I’ve learned to embrace it. It’s not hard to do that. There is indeed much to embrace about our lives. I guess I choose not to focus on what I don't have, and focus on what I have. It takes work to be able to do that, and I won’t deny that it was very hard at first. But it really helped me to be able to move on, and I've found that it works in a range of situations. It's all about our perspective on life, I guess. And what works best for each of us. This works for me.

28 September, 2020

Cleaning up my stuff

As we begin the long process of sorting through my in-laws' house, I once again sit back and wonder about our end of life. I'm not worried so much about who will want my stuff. I don't expect anyone will want it - and I'm okay with that. But who will clean up after us, in the way we are cleaning up after my in-laws? I look around our messiest room - the one I'm in at the moment - and think how awful it would be for someone to go through! I'

There's a thing called Swedish Death Cleaning. I can't remember where I first read about it, but it effectively means people in their retirement cleaning out their houses, getting rid of all their junk, and only keeping the relevant papers, and things that they need to live their lives. My mother did it. She didn't know she was doing Swedish Death Cleaning. But she sorted through all her closets and threw out clothes she no longer wore. She sorted through her papers, and (sometimes before I could stop her) was ruthless about what she kept and what she didn't. It made life easier for my sisters and I when she died - her small house still had plenty of stuff in it. But it was much easier to sort through. There was relatively little that needed to be thrown away.

I'm barely retired (I prefer unemployed, as it implies I am still employable!), but I need to do this. Seriously. Let's face it - if I had kids, I would still need to do it. We live in a four bedroom house that is full of our stuff. When there is space, it seems we spread out to fill it up. There are hundreds of books and papers that need to go. And clothes that I keep "just in case." Yes, maybe I need to do a Kondo number on my house. Or maybe I just need a spring clean - clean it up AND clear it out. This has always been the case, and so it isn't really Swedish Death Cleaning. But with cleaning out the in-laws' house it has become more obvious now that this is a job that will need to be done at some stage, and preferably (for my own peace of mind) sooner than later. I need to do as I say. Because this office is a bit of a dump!

22 September, 2020

Moving Forwards

I wanted to write a lot more about World Childless Week than I have been able to, due to some other events around me (FIL faded rapidly and died last week).

The final topic of the week was Moving Forwards. I feel as if that is the topic of this entire blog – showing that it is possible to move forward, to embrace our lives, find new things we love, or find that what we have is enough. There’s no need for a big change if that’s not your style. But if it is, then embracing your No Kidding life might give you the opportunity to do so. We all know that life and obligations (yes, the childless still have obligations!) can get in the way of our ambitions. But finding what is right for us, and learning to enjoy it, is the key to happiness. That’s true for everyone. To live your life, and know that it is enough. You are enough. We are enough.

When I lost my first two pregnancies I was in the process of moving from a career that had been first in government and then a large company. Being self-employed was a dream. I set up a business, which ran for a while then was sadly neglected. Ectopic pregnancies and infertility and other opportunities got in the way. My business was to develop travel itineraries for people who want to travel, but are too busy to plan their travel. I got some clients, and did some free jobs for others, but in the midst of infertility treatments and ectopic pregnancies, found it harder to have confidence in myself, and when other opportunities came along, they took precedence. I still have the business, but it hasn’t been active for years, although I have talked about reviving it – but COVID is really the last straw!

Contract work in my former field of international consulting with developing countries and developing agencies took more of my time. I also gained a couple of directorships in this field, and – right at the time I was feeling most vulnerable around pregnancy loss and infertility – I took on a leadership role on a Board of Directors. I didn’t feel confident at all, but was encouraged by friends into the role. I’m glad I took it. And as I had healed, I changed from being a user of an Ectopic Pregnancy charity website in the UK, to being a moderator/advisor/mentor. As the years went on, I came to love and appreciate this mix of activities and interests, and for one of the first times in my life became familiar with a feeling of contentment!

It wasn’t my ideal plan B. If you can find an ideal plan B and pursue it, then you’re lucky! My life-long dream to again live and work overseas, and the opportunities to do so, could not be pursued because we felt obligated to remain in this city caring for my aged in-laws. Then job redundancy, ageism in the workplace, health issues, parental health issues and deaths and further deterioration all kept us here too. But we adapted. We travelled when we could, and how we could – a highlight was a three-month period (as part of a longer trip) in Italy when my in-laws were still capable of looking after themselves day-to-day, and we took shorter trips when a brother or a cousin and others could step in and help out if necessary. The stereotype of the childless couple that lives a free and easy life travelling the world isn’t actually that common. Because … life steps in. It doesn’t mean that we are not moving forwards. We are. Because we are designing the life we want, as much as we can do so. And to me, that is what moving forwards means.

So we take pleasure in the little things in life. I took up photography, and we appreciated the little things in life – walks around the harbour or through our native bush, short holidays, drinks and dinner with friends, blogging and writing, gardens, golf, etc etc. It has been especially helpful in the times of COVID, when travel isn’t an option anyway. We’ve learnt to adapt, and continue on with our lives, embracing what we have. I see my fellow No Kidding friends doing the same, all over the world, and I am so incredibly proud of all of us. Living our lives, with awareness and gratitude. That’s the very definition of Moving Forwards.

19 September, 2020

We are Worthy - Repost

I wrote this for World Childless Week two years ago. It still stands. You can find the original here:

Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Am I not worthy too?

The single thought that erodes our confidence is this one. Am I still worthy if I don’t have children? Because I didn’t have children, does that mean I’m not worthy?

And perhaps the single thought that helped me change my thinking was acknowledging the inherent flaw in that earlier thought.

I looked at women who have children easily, who don't have losses, who have never lost their innocence in pregnancy. They have not been judged to be worthy, just as I have not been judged to be unworthy. I look at women who get pregnant when they don't want to. Why does this happen? Well, just because it does. It doesn't mean that they are better than me. It doesn't mean they are luckier than me. They don't feel luckier, if the pregnancy wasn’t wanted. Those who struggle to cope physically, or financially, or emotionally, with a(nother) baby don't see the baby as a gift, even if that is how we would have seen one. I look at women with children who neglect them, abuse them, or abandon them, who expose them to violent or abusive partners, who pay more attention to their own needs than those of their child. Clearly, the biological act of having a baby is not evidence of their good character, or their good behaviour. These women are no better than me, or you. A child is never a reward for good behaviour, however much some of us might have wished that were so. Not having a baby is not a punishment, however much it might feel like that at times.

This whole idea that only the deserving get what they want is really dangerous. I could discuss its implications in wider society and even geopolitics, but I won’t. I’ll just say that it is wrong, and accepting this makes us see things differently, and see others differently.

It can though, take a while to reach acceptance. Women are very good at blaming ourselves. We search for answers. We expect answers. These days, when so much can be cured, solved, calculated or discovered, we can't understand why some of us can have babies and some of us can't. We get angry, and often, because there is no-one else we can blame, we blame ourselves. Pointlessly. Painfully. Sometimes destructively.

I've lived and travelled around the world. I have seen wonderful people in difficult circumstances. I have seen awful people with family they don't value, with riches they don't appreciate or do anything good with. I have seen beloved, kind, good friends die young, I've seen those who have been tortured and I've seen the torturers, and I've seen the selfish and even the downright evil live till they are very old. None of this is justified or right. None of this happens for a reason. None of this is because one person was judged to be worthy or not. None of this is because they were or were not being rewarded. It just is.

No Kidding women and men are worthy. They are valued members of society. Their contributions to the world are different to those of parents, but are not lesser. Their very being shows that not everyone is the same, and that this is okay. Being different does not mean less worthy. In this world we need to understand that.

Finally, I’ll leave my system of banishing negative thoughts (below) that always reminds me that I’m a decent person, deserving, worthy. We are worthy. Don't forget that.

16 September, 2020

Ageing without Children: A Summary

The World Childless Week theme for today is Ageing without Children. More specifically, it is about planning for old age. I'm looking forward to watching/listening to the webinar here too.

I've written quite a bit about planning for old age. I'm working on another post for my Separate Life blog too, because I find people with children forget to plan too. They just have fewer repercussions for not planning.

Due to elderly in-law issues today, I'm not writing anything new here right now, except for this summary of the basic tenets of my thinking about this issue. I've added links to my previous writing on the topic.