That Day Again: 20 Coping Tips

I’ve posted every year around Mother's Day (yes, I know that I named the “day that shall not be named”) since 2011, my first year blogging. Sometimes I post on the day, sometimes a bit before. This year, I’m almost a week in advance for the day celebrated by the majority of countries. (Even though I know it is marked from February through to December by a range of different countries.) But I know by now the advertisements, the discussions, the dread can be sinking in. So here it is. Most years I’ve posted about different aspects of the day, thought about different things, or talked about different experiences of the day. I thought it was about time that I consolidated them all, looked at how my commenters and I cope, the things we do, or the attitudes we take, that see us get through the day. And importantly, how we have healed. Here are my coping tips - I hope they help.

1. Anticipation makes it worse. I know well that feeling of dread that this day can invoke – worrying about how I will cope with the day, or what people will say to me, and how I should react. Planning ahead for the day, to avoid the worst aspects of it, to control what I can, helps. Knowing the anticipation is normal helps too. And what I also know now is that, after all these years, this feeling of dread fades over the years. It won’t be with you forever.
2. It is okay to find the day, and the lead up to the day, and the day or two afterwards, especially in the workplace, difficult. That’s understandable. It is an in-our-face onslaught of sometimes smug people celebrating what they have, and what we wanted, but don’t. It is a day when we feel isolated, ignored, invisible. That’s hard for anyone to deal with. Don’t beat yourself up if you are emotional on the day. That is normal. It’s part of our journey. It’s not a setback. You will recover from it. 
3. You are not alone. There are many of us, not just those of us who are no kidding not by choice, who dislike Mother’s Day. Those who hate the commercialism, who have recently lost their mothers, those who are estranged from their mothers, or feel their absence for whatever reason, those who have to spend the day with mothers-in-law or others when they might not be their “favourite person,” birth mothers, adoptees, adoptive mothers feeling their loss and that of their adoptees, those who are happily childfree but are made to feel less than on this day, those who are resentful that they have to care for their mothers, or have never known a mother’s love, or mothers who are estranged from their children or just never understood them, and vice versa, mothers whose children live in other countries or states or just too far to get together, and many more I’m sure I have forgotten. It is a whitewashed image of a happy day of people celebrating their mothers and children, when in reality many people find it hard. As a (mother) friend of mine said about the day, “joy is never guaranteed, especially at holidays.”
4. There is solidarity. (See above!) Your favourite No Kidding bloggers or social media accounts are going to be thinking about you and the others who are affected by this, and sending out so much love to our community. There are places you can go online (and maybe in real life) where you won’t be alone. There are a lot of people looking for solidarity on any of these days around the world. And we all understand that. If ever there was a day that unites No Kidding people all around the world, this is it. Join our hands, you are not alone, we are with you.
5. Take control of the day. I think that has to be my key recommendation. Do whatever you need to do to protect your feelings, to feel peace, to feel like yourself. And don't let yourself be bullied! (There are so many stories of family members bullying a childless woman on this day.) 
   
6. Honour yourself. I wrote a while ago about this day when it was also my husband’s birthday – I was trying to balance doing something with his mother, and making a fuss of him too (though we deliberately went out to dinner the night before for his birthday to avoid the crowds), but I also wanted to carve out some part of the day just for me. I wanted to give myself some time to deal with the day, or to ignore it and just focus on some self-care, to honour my struggles too. That was important to me. I didn't want to feel as if my existence and experiences were erased by this day. I didn't let that happen.
   
7. Turn off social media, or any other social/news sources that can be dodgy (feed readers/news sites/etc, anything with commercials – eg listen to audiobooks or playlists not the radio, etc). Don’t look at email promotions! (Though fortunately, many companies are now offering “opt out” emails for these holidays.) And don’t forget to keep it going the next day, because a lot of people only upload photos then. And as the American time zones come in after everyone else, beware of that 18 hour delay (if you’re in NZ, for example).
8. Personally, I avoid anything that is too public on this day. That includes movie theatres, restaurants and cafes, anything where you might find families doing something special. But I know others find churches very difficult on this day too as they often single out the mothers and forget those who feel isolated. To protect themselves, they choose to avoid services on that day only. Meet friends for a walk or at your house rather than at a café. I’m lucky because I have time, and can choose to go out and do things on other days. And I can have a coffee, or go to the supermarket, or see a movie, any other day.
9. Do something special just for you at home. I know some people treat Mother’s and Father’s Day as special days just to celebrate their spouses/partners. I tried that. “Mali” Day hasn’t really caught on! Lol But I will often choose to make a favourite meal. 
10. Make it a day to, as Beef Princess said some years ago, honour your dream of being a mother … “allowing for grief, healing and self-compassion.” I will always think of the babies I lost, and the mother I never was, on this day. But I honour the feelings, and these days, I mostly remember without the pain.
11. Treat it as any other Sunday. Work out, prepare for the week, write a Monday blog post, clean, etc etc. Ignore it, in other words. It is possible!
12. Look at the benefits of your life, embrace them, and feel gratitude for them. This was prompted by seeing a post years ago from a friend who had already been up at the crack of dawn, and had gone out for brunch with her husband and sons, where she would almost certainly have had to fight the crowds at the cafe. I laughed. Because I had only just got up when she had already posted! I'd spent an hour studying Italian, enjoyed a lovely cup of tea brought to me by my loving husband, had enjoyed a cuddle, and responded to several emails about booking accommodation in Italy in August. And I did it all peacefully, in bed! (Accusations of laziness not permitted). We had been to our favourite brunch place the day before for a late lunch when just the usual regulars were there (couples - straight and gay - with no kids in sight), and had a very pleasant and relaxed time sans enfants. I was very happy with my day. It was different, but no worse.
13. Travelling on this day can be a double-edged sword. As it is a day marked in a lot of places everywhere in the world, you might still be subject to comments, poorly directed well-wishes, etc. But when you are not at home, in an interesting place, it can feel more distant, and much less important. I saw mothers celebrating with their families on this day in South Africa 14 years ago, and it was lovely. I didn’t relate it to myself, because I was in a very foreign place and with different cultures, and I was having too good a time! There is a real freedom being away from your own society and community and language, or even just being out of your own neighbourhood.
14. Many of us still can’t avoid the day totally, if our mothers, grandmothers, mothers-in-law etc are around. Hopefully you can mark the day with them, which is important, and still protect your hearts. After all, even though my mother and MIL are both gone, I still think I would find it hard, even 20 years on, to sit in a restaurant, surrounded by happy families, being reminded at every turn that I am not and will never be a mother. So, my advice is to find excuses – prior engagements, or simply that restaurants will be too crowded - and happily go out with your mothers or mother figures, the day before. Alternatively, doing so at home – taking or ordering a special meal or a celebratory cake – can make the time easier for you, and just as much fun for them.
15. Remember that this is a commercial day that is utterly contrived, a way to guilt people into buying gifts, spending money, and feeling bad about themselves if they are among those who can't be included in the celebration. A friend noted that she disliked them for the pressure/alienation they bring about for some, a pressure that can be much worse than feeling lonely during the December holidays as it is so specific. That might not help you, but knowing it is pushed so hard these days simply to sell things makes it easier to ignore, and to do so with the utmost disdain!
16. To cope with the next day reviews at work/school/etc, feel free to make yourself scarce during these conversations, or (perhaps useful in a one-on-one situation) use a standard response of mine that I hope makes them think, which is along the lines of “I am not the person you should be talking to about this.”
17. It is one day, and it will pass. By Monday at best, or at least by mid-week, you’ll be back to your every day normal, and more importantly, so will everyone else.
18. It has power if we give it power. Sure, in the first few years it is hard not to succumb to the power of the day. But as time passes, it is easier to stand up straight and say, “nope, I’m not giving this day power over me.” It is easier to make our own plans to either avoid difficult situations, or to treat ourselves before or afterwards. It is easier to dismiss it as irrelevant to our lives. 
19. There will be blips. You may lose your mother or aunt or other female mentors, and feel it anew. You may see people close to you feted on the day and that can cause fresh pain too. But I have no mother or mother-in-law anymore, and I have no children. For me, it mostly feels as if the day is happening elsewhere, and to others, and I'm fine with that. 
20. Inevitably, it gets easier. The guilt for not caring goes too. The power of the day vanishes. Anticipation is easy. And if we have a blip, we know that that is what it is. Our scars heal over.. And you know what rushes in to replace the hurt from the wounds? A wonderful sense of relief, of compassion for those who are still going through it, and freedom.

Here's a link to all my previous Mother's Day related posts.

With credit to my dear departed Mum, and her beautiful rose

 

The importance of connection as we age

Loribeth highlighted this article about the importance of networks as we age. (She’s so good at telling us about articles that make me think). This is, of course, particularly important for those of us who do not have children (or for those whose children do not live nearby or are estranged or busy etc), to ensure that we have ongoing connections in our lives. But it is also something we are, as a community, quite good at, precisely because we haven’t had children we rely on to provide comfort and assistance.

It noted that the pandemic was particularly hard on elderly people, who lost that face-to-face, day-to-day contact with a range of people that aids our well-being, whether it be the cheerful person making our coffee, or the packer at the supermarket who is always helpful, or the people at the gym or exercise class who chat as we change. Poor health also affects people of all ages getting out and about making human connections. Lacking those day-to-day interactions can be awfully isolating. Especially if we already feel isolated because we don't have children. Just seeing change in our local environments can feel isolating. Our local Post Shop (post office and small store) is closing. I never knew the two who run it really, but they knew me, and I knew them, over 20-30 years. Likewise, we miss our favourite brunch place, and the two men who owned and managed it. We had our regular chats, exchange of travel information, and gripes about silly people. They were part of our network, and I miss them.

Online friendships were acknowledged in the article, and I’m really glad about that. We’ve come a long way in the last 15-20 years! I remember back then hearing a contemporary of mine scoffing at the idea that people look for support online. “That’s just sad, isn’t it?” she said disbelievingly. I was appalled at her naivety. I knew from personal experience that internet friendships can be real, close, supportive relationships that can provide more support and nurturing than our real life relationships. They are an important way we connect with others, and are vital for our well-being if we can’t get out and meet others who share our experiences. Yet we also all know that they can’t pop over to help out if you’re sick, or meet for a coffee or a drink, or give you a hug if you are sad. And we can't give love in that way either. We’ve all said it on each other’s blogs or in messageboards or whatsapp or fbk groups etc etc. “If only we could be there to give you a hug!” And every time I say it, I mean it.

The article then mentioned a woman who started a group of “elder orphans” – people who don’t have spouses or children to depend on. Though I have a spouse, neither of us have younger relatives we are close to in this city. (There’s one – a cousin’s niece, but we don’t really know her). And if one of us isn’t here, then whichever of us is left will definitely be an elder orphan. I love this idea of forming a group. Social media makes it so easy to do these days. We can connect with people in the same locations, as well as online. I’m definitely going to bear it in mind.

I know I’ve written a lot of this before, though in slightly different contexts. I think I write these posts as much as a reminder for me to get out and about, as I do for you. Because I suspect you are all already better at this than I am! Being self-employed since my 40s hasn’t really helped me forge new relationships. Although it has helped me nurture the ones that might have disappeared. And I have plans – I just haven’t joined that photography group yet, or another book club, or found somewhere to volunteer (because I can’t commit to doing something weekly if I’m going to be travelling two months in, etc). But they’re all on my list of things to do sometime this year, or next! Anyone have any hints on how you make and keep connections?

How people say they don't understand, without saying it

One of the most empowering things about healing and getting older is that I know that comments to us, or comments about being parents, or about us not being parents, tells me so much more about the person saying it than it does about me or my situation.

How people say they don’t understand without actually saying it:

•                    “Here, you can have my kids”
•          “At least you get to sleep in on the weekend”
•          “I wish I could travel like you”
•          “You don’t know true love till you’re a mother”
•          “Being a mother teaches you empathy”
•          “You’ve never been tired until you’ve been a mother”
•          “You could still adopt” when I’m already in my 50s
•          “We’re empty-nesters, just the same as you”
•          “I wouldn’t be the same person without my children”
•          “I know how you feel”
•          “As a mother …”
•          “As the father of daughters, …”

All these comments have been said to me, or around me, or by public figures. I know others have heard worse. What they tell me is that the people speaking either don’t understand that our lives are different, and what therefore that might mean for us, or they don’t want to understand or accept that our lives are different, or maybe that they are incapable of understanding. Or they just don't care. And they don't realise how they expose themselves with their comments.

I want understanding, not pity.
Acknowledgement, not silence.
Awareness of my life - its gains and losses - not invisibility.
Equality, not condescension.

Family visits

 On a day to day basis, I don't get too many "triggers" about not having children. I don't get nasty comments, I'm not around a lot of kids - most of my friends and family now have adult children who have left home, are working elsewhere maybe, or are raising their own children. The "No Kidding" factor of my life is not up in my face 24 hours a day. Most of the time.

The last few days my sister, niece and brother-in-law visited us. It was lovely. But I saw again the difficulties of life with kids. Especially the difficulties of life with a teenager, and a child who has special health needs. My niece is, I can hardly believe this, about to turn 15. Old enough to feel independent and that she knows best, but too young to know what she doesn't know (just about everything!). We had a very nice time. It was nice to talk to her about school, and chemistry, her new favourite subject. I showed her around the university (well, until I got lost) and we talked about decisions she'll have to make in just a few years. We had some good conversations, and I got to be a good auntie. We went shopping together, and the niece mentioned she loved going shopping with me. That was nice to hear, although of course it might have been motivated by the fact that Auntie (Mali) is - to quote my sister - a bit of a soft touch, and usually buys my niece something! I did this time too. More than I intended to spend, but then her mother ended up doing that too! Teenagers know how to work the system.

But I saw the challenges of my sister's daily life. On top of the normal issues of raising a teenager, she has a constant battle to get her daughter to remember her medications (and there are multiple - morning, night, nebulisers, medication with every single thing she eats). Now, with a new life-saving medication available, there are strict time frames in which to take it. And it needs to be taken with food - separate to the medication that helps her digest the food. But does the teenager care? She wants to be "normal" of course. She's thrilled that she's feeling more healthy with this new medication, after only a week. I could hear the difference in her lungs. But she is at the age where she's always pushing back, so if her mother reminds her to take the pills, she almost deliberately waits to do it later. Then, because she's a teenager, she forgets! So they are always at loggerheads.

It's exhausting for all of them, but it must be so difficult for my sister. It must be heart-breaking at time, to have to do this. She's doing a great job, and they still have an excellent relationship, which is lovely to watch. (Even if it makes me a bit wistful.) But it was a good reminder too that it is not easy at all to be a parent. And I will admit, after they left yesterday I enjoyed curling up on the couch with my ipad, reading a book, then having a bit of an afternoon nap on a warm autumn Sunday afternoon. It may not have been my preferred life. But it gives me freedoms and positives in this life, just as my sister has positives in her life. And I am thankful for them.

No Kidding lessons from a book about fear and danger

I read, or more accurately, listened to an amazing book a week or so ago. It was one I think everyone should read – it should be the basis of teaching all boys and men how to behave and how not to behave, and of teaching women and girls that it is okay to not always be “nice.” It was The Gift of Fear by Gavin de Becker. It’s an older book, but still very relevant. I found it fascinating in terms of how often we play down our natural instincts, and allow social conditioning to take over. Essentially, it is about violence and aggression, how to recognise the signs of danger, and keep ourselves safe. That in itself is extremely important, and I wish that all my nieces and nephews could read and understand this book. If I could give them one gift, especially my nieces, it would be to learn to listen to their instincts, and shed the social conditioning that tells them they are wrong.

But I found it fascinating on another level too. There were takeaways that applied for those going through infertility, and those of us living our No Kidding lives afterwards.

There are lots of good quotes. It was impossible to stop and record them as I was climbing the hills around my house listening to the audiobook, so I’ve probably forgotten the best. But here are some of the points that resonated with me.

I was pleased when he talked about social conditioning, and how controlled we can be by it, whether we are thinking about what is expected of us, behaving the way we are “supposed to” behave, wanting what we are told to want, afraid to fail, refraining from standing up for ourselves because we want to be “polite” or “nice” or undemanding, ignoring warning signals because "boys will be boys," etc. It all sounded so familiar as a woman, but especially to those of us who have had to throw this off in order to be able to accept our No Kidding lives. 

I immediately thought of the way it is assumed that we will all become parents, dismissing any niggling fears we might have that it might not be a possibility because "everyone does it" or "I'm just being stupid." I thought of someone dismissing warnings I'd given about when to seek fertility help, but a year on there is no baby. I thought too of the fact that at times women (and men) find it so hard to see the possibility of a good life without children, the way we (and others) view quitting as failure, the way we fear or are told that we are "not real women" (or men) because we are not parents, or even just the way we automatically feel we have to answer people when they ask intrusive questions, or justify our choices, or don't stand up for ourselves when we are isolated. Social conditioning doesn't always work in our favour. I've always felt that. But this book allowed me to believe it.

I was also fascinated by his comment that we can become addicted to the highs (eg relief, or hope) we experience after the lows of a bad experience, and so stay in unhealthy situations. Whilst he mentioned this fact as one explanation for why women stay in violent relationships (and came dangerously close to victim blaming), it was yet another reason that no-one ever considers. It also made me think of those of us who have been through IVF. The low of not conceiving, of a cycle that did not result in pregnancy, or of a pregnancy loss, can be followed by the high we feel filled with hope when we start a new cycle, or have a positive pregnancy test. It is that emotional high of hope, imagining the feeling of victory and success and acclaim and acceptance that will ensue, that keeps us going. We are consequently prepared to try even when the odds are completely against us. I know this suggestion is extremely offensive to some. But I’ve personally experienced it, even over just a few years. The fact that being free of the lows, being free of the rollercoaster, can be an even greater and much longer lasting high (in due course) is too often impossible to imagine.

A key point he made in this book was the warning sign of the persistent refusal of the word “no.”Most women, if not all, would recognise this. As he says,

“No' is a word that must never be negotiated, because the person who chooses not to hear it is trying to control you." 

That's such an important message for everyone. And it made me think about the No Kidding objections we get when we say, “no, we don’t have children” or “no, it is never going to happen.” Then we get the "have you thought about" and "just one more try" and "my cousin ate pineapple" or "this worked for me" or "I know it will work" rebuttals. These refusals to accept our “no” is insulting at the least. It can become almost dangerous, in that we know we cannot trust this person with our feelings.

“Worry will almost always buckle under interrogation.” 

I LOVE this. I’ve talked about something similar myself, when I’ve recommended dismissing the negative thoughts through honest questioning, or when I’ve wondered why someone might behave a certain way towards me. When I ask myself what is the logic behind these thoughts, or the worry I have about how someone views me, I almost always get the answer I need. That I am worrying needlessly, and that this is not about me. It allows me to dismiss judgement, gives me back my self-respect, and restores my confidence that I am equal and worthy. If the answer shows that concern is appropriate, then at least I can act on that answer. Oddly, although I’ve applied it extensively in adjusting to my No Kidding life, and a little in my normal life, it was still something of a revelation that I should use this technique when I’m worrying about “things that might happen” in general! I know it works, from first-hand experience in training my brain to adjust to being childless. So now I’m going to try to stop worrying about the roof flying off in the wind, or an earthquake!

He talked about the liberation of fear in this way. It's not the liberation from all fear, because that puts us in danger. But it is all about understanding our feelings, and our fear, and knowing what is valid and what is not. This is so important. I always remember hearing, as a diplomat, visiting NZers tell me that Bangkok was safer than their home town in NZ. What they had failed to recognise was that a) their fears at home weren't always valid, or were inflated because of specific but anecdotal knowledge of incidents, and b) they felt free of fear in Bangkok because they didn't know what dangers there were, how to read the people or the crowds, etc. Being alert to our fear, and feeling fear that holds up under questioning and is valid means you can do something about it. But when you know it isn’t real, or hasn’t happened yet, you can let it go. In this way, impala (for example) are alert and ready to run when they sense danger that a lion or leopard is nearby, but otherwise they are not worried, grazing happily, their heart rates down, bodies relaxed, etc. I’ve often thought that would be an enviable life skill, and how hard I would find that!

But when I think about it, I think this liberation of fear can also apply to us when we go through infertility – the fear and dread so many of us experienced contemplating a life without children wasn’t really justified because a) it hadn’t happened yet, b) our fears were influenced by social conditioning, and b) we hadn’t yet experienced it. Thankfully, I’ve found that when we realise that accepting our childless lives means that we can then make our lives into something that is not worthy of fear. (Or not specifically about fear due to not having children.) This liberation allows us to let go of our fear, and usher in the joy: joy in our lives that are free of social conditioning, of fear, and filled with self-respect. Joy is so much more worthy than fear.