One Nation
Picture this. A high ceilinged living room, the snowy winter light filtering in through windows, a group of friends, wine glasses in hand. It is New Year’s Eve. Children are recently abed, excited murmurs can still be heard. A baby cries, is soothed. One woman is perched on the arm of a chair, her pregnant friend sits opposite her. The first woman cries, but brushes her tears away.
‘I feel…it feels, as if all if you are going to – or have gone to – a special nation, and I am left behind, am not allowed to go. I have to stay, and I can see you all depart, can congratulate you, wish you well on the journey, and then I am left alone. And I want to go too, more than anything, and I can see that nation, sometimes I am even invited to visit, but I am never allowed to stay. Do you understand? Do you see what I mean?’
There is no answer. What could she have said?
The speaking woman was me. The pregnant woman my friend.
But I was wrong, I can see that now, wrong in what I said although it felt so true at the time.
A bigger nation
Because there is a bigger nation, a much bigger nation than the one I knew of back then, a nation that encompasses all of us, the childless, childfree, the parents and those of us who don’t know which of those they are yet. I am part of that nation. I am much more than a childless woman. I am deeply maternal. Sometimes, in the words of Jane Rule in' ‘Desert of the Heart’, I feel I am a mother without children. I am also a child without a mother. I stand alone. Except, of course, I don’t. I am part of the nation, and I want to explain how I came to feel that way, and how I survived not having the children I longed for. And I also want to celebrate the voices of other childless people who survived.
We all survive, we have to, and we learn to live again, no matter how hard the journey to the nation is. We make it together.
I have wept, I have railed against the injustice of it all, have fought against bureaucracy and the medical profession and my own imperfect body, I have had difficult conversations with friends, I have learned to love other people’s children. I have been part of a community of childless people whose love and wisdom has sustained me along the way, I have not walked alone, even though it felt like it at times.
I have survived, and learned to thrive.
How did I do it?
How do we do it, when faced with a loss of such magnitude, a loss of what we dreamed of, a loss of an identity we longed for, a loss of purpose, a loss of meaning, a loss of what can feel, sometimes, like our entire life?
Step by step. We do it – can only do it – step by step.
I had to learn so much. First I had to learn to feel what I feel, to be willing to name the feeling and sit with it for a moment, for as long as I could take. If I saw a baby or a pregnant person in the streets, I used to turn away, physically and from the feelings. And I had to learn to turn to those feelings and thoughts, name them, see them as completely normal and expected for someone in my situation.
I had to find a place for those feelings, where there could be heard, in counselling, and with the people I met in my childless tribe. I also commissioned a ring from a NoMo friend and when the feelings threatened to overwhelm me, I visualised putting them into the ring until I had time to give them the space they needed.
I took part in rituals, alone, with my Gateway Women friends and with organisations such as https://www.sayinggoodbye.org/
(The Saying Goodbye services are for anyone who has suffered the loss of a baby at any stage and anyone who is grieving the fact that they will never have children. It does not matter if your loss is recent or historic and the services are for people of any faith or none.)
How did others do it?
I connected with my people, with people who understood, through Gateway Women and World Childless Week. I went to talks and events, courses and workshops, met people socially and to offer and receive support. When I asked some of them what had helped them, these are some of the responses I had:
‘I used to say this mantra over and over in my head when I was feeling really distressed about lack of empathy or understanding from others about my childlessness:
You are loving, loveable & amazing.
Involuntary childlessness strips away so much from our lives and souls, it’s good to reaffirm that we are worthy and deserving of respect and being listened to also.’‘Like many of us, I started with a total sense of life failure, grief and collapse after realising I would be permanently childless. It felt too large and impossible to solve. Through Gateway Women, though, I started to realise there were many parts to my overall huge life grief. It could be broken down into different smaller parts which I hadn’t realised before and which really helped. I was very ignorant about grief (society is very grief phobic so we don’t learn or become comfortable with grief) so I bought books on grief and listened to podcasts and audiobooks on failure and grief which helped me understand and process my grief. I especially liked Elizabeth Day on failure and Megan Devine “it’s ok that you’re not ok” & also this article: https://www.dumbofeather.com/articles/the-river-of-grief-and-how-to-keep-being/. I liked Tara Brach “True Refuge” which helped me find refuge and peace in difficult circumstances. Understanding that others have faced similar or different forms of grief helped. It’s possible to survive grief and even thrive in time. I also started to understand there were other societal influences which amplified my own grief and made it worse:
1) Disenfranchised grief - the fact childless women often physically haven’t lost anything or anyone and society doesn’t acknowledge or validate childlessness grief means it’s harder to get support that grieving people would normally receive.
2) Pronatalism - the promotion by society of motherhood and that motherhood equals womanhood. There is a shame is failing at motherhood and few societal role models of childlessness women which makes it harder. There’s no positive path to follow and most portrayals of childless women in society are negative - selfish or pitiful.
3) Being in a minority - 80% of women eventually become mothers which means childless women are in the minority and can feel outsiders in society which can create isolation and fewer friendship opportunities.
As I realised my grief, confusion and shame was influenced by these external factors, I could slowly break down my overall grief into parts and find ways to tackle and process these smaller parts.
For example, as I started to understand the strong influence society had on me, I realised I had a very narrow view of what success looked like in life. Although I couldn’t conceive of a wider view of success immediately, I could at least realise that there could conceivably be another way/ option and slowly I worked towards a new life. I also realised I’d been really hard on myself about everything and being hard on myself about childlessness wasn’t helping and learning self-compassion and being kind to myself through my grief was very helpful. I realised the importance of the childless community, of friendships with other women who can understand, of building and sharing a sisterhood and friendship community so I didn’t feel so isolated.’
‘It didn't feel like a path I wanted to take and it certainly wasn't a linear journey. More like being lost in the woods, sometimes going round in circles and eventually seeing beyond the trees into open space and that feeling of relief to see the big sky and daylight again. How I got there I don't fully know, I followed my inner compass and voice, which perhaps took me to various acts of self-care and compassion, therapy and the daily healing that comes from the passing of time.’
‘The key things for me were finding GW [Gateway Women] and sharing my story, finding a good counsellor, setting aside some time each day to actively grieve starting to talk to a few trusted people rather than keeping my pain to myself.’
‘I think one of the biggest things that has helped me get to the point I am at now is being open about my childlessness and the grief and loss I have felt about it. After almost ten years of shamed silence, I started to open up about it to all around me about half way through doing GW's year-long Plan B course. And I could only do that because I had a community behind me, supporting me and there if I needed them. Being open about it has let me live with authenticity which has not only been liberating but for some reason, has also enabled me to let go, move on and be really excited about the endless possibilities this childless life offers me. So, I guess it's a combo of finding community and a sense of belonging with my CNBC sisters and being open about it.’
‘Someone once said to me words to the effect of "it's about coming to terms with not getting the life you expected.... But find me someone whose life did turn out the way they expected!". Over the years this has helped me feel more able to connect with those who did become parents, to forgive them, if you like, because it's easy to think that my life would have been complete if I'd had a baby, that my life would have looked like Disney. But of course it wouldn't, because even if you get the thing you wanted, other bits shift and get messed up along the way. (I don't live in the countryside with 2 labradors and a massive garden either, that was what my Disney expectation was). Nobody has a perfect life; Disney fairytales are not a template for real life... In all its messy, challenging, imperfect, confusing glory. Another friend told me this joke: "how do you make God laugh.....tell him/her your plans!". I think of that frequently. And so.... Plan B (and then plan, C, D, X, Y and Z) because we are constantly evolving in our lives, and THAT ability (to update and re-emerge) is what makes humans really great at not just surviving, but thriving! Childless women get a really obvious cue to participate in the next iteration of themselves. I guess I'm kind of grateful for that (on a good day!).’
‘Getting creative, listening to music/reading a good book, connecting with nature, mindfulness and enjoying the company of close friends.’
‘Something a friend said to me, stayed with me throughout my journey and is still with me today. When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis and told it may not be possible to have children, we were chatting in the pub and he simply said ‘if you can’t have them then you just can’t have them, you know what I mean?’. He said it so calmly and straightforwardly and acceptingly, and in amongst all the other weird reactions from other friends and family (which generally swept the issue away e.g. ‘you’ve got loads of time’ etc) it just made me feel better. It always makes me feel better every time I think of it, and it has remained comforting even through the worst bits. The truth of it can bring tears to my eyes but I also find the truth of it comforting. I think it was an incredibly wise thing to say, especially as we were only 30! I’m 45 now so that is a long time ago. It’s such a small moment, but something that has helped me a lot.’
‘Over time the gap becomes a space.'
‘Find other childless women who can support you in this transition. There are SO many more resources, online & in "real life"….blogs, forums, social media, podcasts, books….Knowing there were other women out there struggling with the same situations and issues made a huge difference for me! Finally, remember: this takes time. You're not going to flip a switch and everything will immediately be sunshine & roses. Rome was not built in a day, etc. etc. You've spent an entire lifetime thinking you were going to be a mother someday -- you're not going to reverse a lifetime of hopes, plans and expectations overnight. But over time, it DOES get easier. It might not be the life you planned or expected, but there IS a good life to be had without children!’ https://theroadlesstravelledlb.blogspot.com/
Our people
What wisdom there is among our people.
And now I turn to those who are still walking the path, and I vow to help them join me where I am.
So we can all be part of the nation. One nation.