Handle with Care

I cannot get really close to other people's children. The first two times I learned this lesson it hurt really bad. Now I'm learning it for a third time. It sucks, but it's softened because of my previous experience. I can enjoy others' kids, but they'll never be mine. They will never think to call me with good news. They will never think to call me with bad news. They will never think to call me.

Part of this is sad. Part of this is reality. It's just the way it is.

The first time I got hurt was a long time ago. I had just stopped trying to conceive, sold my children's house, and gone back to school. I wasn't invited to a friend's kid's 6th birthday party when I had been invited to everything else previously. I had already bought the birthday presents. Then I saw the pictures of the birthday party on social media. I wasn't invited. I was crushed.

The second time I got hurt was by my niece. It only happened two years ago. She's grown. An adult. But she was mean to me. So unnecessarily mean. I was blindsided. I never wrote about it and probably never will. Maybe I shouldn't have assumed we were as close as I thought we were, but I did. Not anymore. Now I know. Being an aunt doesn't guarantee an awesome relationship.

And, most recently, another person was in my life that I really cared about. Someone else's kid. Everything seemed fine until last week. Now I don't know what was real and what was fake. I choose to hold on to my good memories. I give myself grace while I process the rest.

It's okay to love people. It's important to love people. But love makes us vulnerable, and sometimes we get hurt. We feel our feelings, learn our lessons, get back up, and go on.

I'm not mad at myself for being sensitive, but I want to be more careful with myself in the future.

A Table is not the Hearth of the Home

I'm tired of furnishing temporary places. When my boyfriend and I moved together for the first time, we knew we weren't staying there past our lease but I didn't understand why he didn't unpack his boxes. I understand now. When you know you're not staying somewhere, it doesn't make sense to totally unpack everything. And now, in addition to not unpacking, I no longer want to buy or acquire things for temporary spaces either.

I've had three homes that I thought I would be in for a long, long time. When I got married, he already had a house and I was fine living there. Then we ended up buying a house for our future children that was closer to his job. I thought we'd be there for at least a decade. Then, when I bought my own little house in a small town, I thought I'd live there forever.

Obviously, I don't live in any of those places anymore, but I'm lucky that I had them. They all felt very happy and secure at the time. Then it was time to move on from each place.

And now I am in my current rental. When I first moved in, I daydreamed about loving the place, buying it, and never moving again. But as much as I like and appreciate my rental, I don't love it. Plus, it's not for sale. Plus, I probably couldn't afford it. So that's that.

I don't have a dining room table in the rental. I gave away the one we had before we moved. We used it for eating, and I used it for sewing. It was fine, but I didn't want any furniture from my former marriage anymore. It was one less thing to move. Then, when we moved here, I bought a new table. It was necessary. It's a work table though. For my sewing machine, not for eating. 

My mom really wants me to have a dining table. She thinks it's important. But it's not important to me. (See the first sentence of this post.) She said something along the lines of, "You need a table. It's important to eat dinner together. It's where you talk about your day."

So I reminded her: "I'm not raising kids." 

"Oh," she said.

I assured her that my boyfriend and I are well aware of each other's days.

She said, "Yeah, when it's just your dad and me, we eat in the tv room a lot." My mom's inability to see my life continues to surprise me. Part of me feels hurt; part of me understands.

And I do want a table. I'm just not buying or acquiring anything for this place.

The Observer & The Experiencer

"Why did I even have kids?"

That was another thing that my mom said to me during our phone conversation last week. It really bothered me. After we hung up, I cried. The whole conversation was tough. The whole thing was just so careless and insensitive. I called her the next day to confront her about the question above and she brushed it off as something she just said off-handedly, that she didn't mean anything by it. Okay...

But in the moment? In the moment my honest-to-goodness first thought was, "Well, that's a question only you can answer." It was my Observer speaking.

I learned about cultivating the Observer and the Experiencer at my old yoga studio in my old town. I learned so many good things there. I got so many tools for life from that place. It will always hold a special place in my heart.

I'm not sure I will explain it well, but it's just like it sounds. The Experiencer is the part of you that is experiencing a situation complete with your thoughts and your feelings and all. The Observer is the part of you that is removed from the situation and can see it without everything that comes with experiencing it. I guess, if I were to guess, the Observer is more objective while the Experiencer is more subjective. 

Why did my mom have kids? I don't know... I can guess, but I really don't know. Probably because it was expected of her and she was fertile. Probably because she never made a conscious decision to not have children. But really and truly, that is not a question that I can answer for her.

It's also not a question that should be said to me, her infertile daughter.

Stress & Privilege

"What do you have to be stressed about?"

That question was posed to me this morning. It's not the first time my mother has said this to me, but it still sucks. I know it is a rude and judgmental thing to say to another person, but it still hurts. Even worse, she followed it up with, "I went through the same thing and I had a whole family to take care of." Well, shit.

It was a horrible conversation. I should have known better and not answered the phone. I had just returned home the previous day from a long (but good) work-related trip. I was exhausted. I didn't have the emotional reserves to buffer myself.

I was criticized and accused. There was no empathy. She was getting more and more upset as we talked. I told her I'd like to stay on the phone until she felt better. She sounded like she felt better by the time we hung up. I felt awful.

From the outside, it's easy to see how crazy it all is.
As the one experiencing it, it is very, very hard to process. 

She told me she felt like she had to walk on eggshells around me, and I told her I felt the same.

There is no answer. There is no solution. I am out of strategies. 

Thankfully, I have emotional support in other areas of my life. 

*****

So let's move on to my week-long trip. It was long. It was busy. It was expensive. It was great.

I felt a roller coaster of emotions throughout the week. At times I was excited. At other times, I felt overwhelmed. By the last day I was in extreme physical pain. I blame 1) the stress (even positive stress is still stress) and 2) what I ate. I am not 25 anymore! I ate out for every meal, and I tend to go for the fried and/or cheesy food. Apparently, I cannot do that anymore. Not for every meal. Lesson learned! For my last meal, I ordered a salad. Better late than never, right? ;)

Toward the end of my trip, as I was talking myself down from the stress, I realized that I had what so many other women wanted: a week to myself. I had no one else's needs to attend to, no one else's preferences to consider. Other than my scheduled meetings, I could do what I want. And that I did! As I already mentioned, I ate what I wanted when I wanted. I did some shopping. I went to bed early. I lived life on my terms. Which, I suppose, I usually do anyway... But this was in a different state in a new city and, even though it was a work-related trip, it was also a vacation. 

I've shared before that I don't like to travel. I love my comforts of home. But I can still recognize what a privilege it is to have the health, means, and opportunity to travel. 

It was a privilege to get to spend a week by myself.

It's Incredibly Difficult to Recover

One of the many reasons why I grieved so hard and so long for my unrealized dream of raising children is the idea that parenting is so pervasive that it's the default way of thinking... It's hard enough to live amongst pronatalism when you didn't want to parent, but it feels nearly impossible to live in this suffocating world when you wanted to parent and didn't get to. 

Here's my most recent example.

I was talking to my mom and she was telling me about a family member that came to visit. He wants to move to a different country and has been working on the logistics for awhile. My mom is not in favor of this plan. Why she cares where he lives is beyond me. Personally, I'm excited for him. He's well traveled and knows the language. My mom thinks it's a terrible idea.

Mom: It's hard to move.

Me: Yeah, it's hard to move, but he wants to move. I think it's pretty cool.

Mom: He's moving away from his family. [This family member's parents are dead and he is not in communication with his siblings. He's not married, and he doesn't have kids.]

Me: Well, I'm sure it won't be any different. He's just living his life.

Mom: But it's even harder to move when you're our age. You can't meet people through your work or through your children.

Me: ... I haven't met anyone through my children...

Mom: Well, you know what I mean.

Me: And he hasn't ever met anyone through his children either...

Mom: Well, I guess not.

Me: He's probably just living his life like regular. I mean, this is his life. It's nothing new.

*****

I'm not mad at my mom, but I continue to be shocked at her blatant assumptions and inability to imagine life any other way than how it has gone for her. I even told her, "I understand that you're thinking about life with the normative transitions, but [our family member] and I don't live life like that and it changes everything."

And THAT is why it is so hard to grieve and recover from involuntary childlessness. Not only are you navigating traumatic loss and disenfranchised grief, you are encountering people's limited perspectives and constant judgment for what you are supposed to be doing instead.

July 4th Anniversaries

I want you to choose yourself.

I want you to fiercely protect your peace.

I want you to pursue what inspires and nourishes you.

Infertility changed me.

Being childless-not-by-choice changed me.

The pandemic changed me.

2024 alone changed me.

Pic from SelfLoveRainbow

We have ONE LIFE.

(Thank you Tom Petty!)

Pic retrieved from this tribute post

I've shared that I hit extreme burnout last year. It was awful. I took the whole month of December off. I went to work and that was it. No meetings, no appointments, no traveling. I went to the grocery store and checked the mail. I did the bare minimum.

Then I spent the first 6 months of 2025 following through but not adding anything. I went to work. I went to appointments. I finished a quilt top, the hardest one I've sewn so far! And I am so close to finishing the draft of my research article that is good enough to submit for publication. (If accepted, I will get it back with lots of edits to make. But I want to submit the best work I can.)

I feel sooo much better. There are physical signs. Instead of sleeping 10-12 hours a night, I am sleeping 8-9 hours a night. There are emotional signs. When I feel stressed, I can breathe and talk myself through it instead of falling apart or shutting down. There are spiritual signs. I feel more connected to something bigger than me. I refuse to give up. I will continue living my little life sharing the light I have with everyone that comes into my orbit.

*****

July 4th.
Yesterday was a contrast in anniversaries. 

One year ago yesterday I received a phone call from my niece where she was unexpectedly and very shockingly rude, hateful, and condescending to me. When I shared a little about that phone call with other close family members, nobody reacted much. I had to explain why what she said and did was so wrong. It changed everything. It was/is very, very hard for me. I still think about it often. I give myself grace. We navigate and manage what comes our way the best way we can in the moment.

On the other hand, four years ago yesterday my boyfriend and I moved into our home. If we are still at this address next year, it will be the longest I've ever lived anywhere in my life. I cannot describe the feelings that my home gives me, but... I bought this house for the life I have now. I never planned on or even imagined raising children here. And logistically, I haven't had to change my address for the last four years. I haven't had to shut off and start up a bunch of different utilities and services. I haven't had to pack up everything and move it. 

I've been allowed to just be.

I want that for you. Prioritize your well-being.

I'll leave you with another July 4th anniversary.
Six years ago I wrote this post: The Cost of My Freedom

Pic retrieved from Ontario Science Centre

(M)Other's Day Next Month

I just learned about this awesome sounding event in Chicago next month. It's called The Other's Day Brunch. I can't go this year, but I'd honestly/seriously like to go next year. Make a trip out of it. My boyfriend likes Chicago. I've been a couple of times. Do some shopping (maybe) and eat some good food (definitely). See some sites. And go to this brunch! Why not? One of my favorite strategies in life is to have things to look forward to.

I can't go to the Other's Day Brunch this year. I already have Mother's Day plans. Sigh... 

For years, Mother's Day was on the forefront of my radar screen and I made sure to stay home that day. I didn't want to go out to eat or even run errands. I could not handle anyone wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. I just stayed home and ordered pizza instead.

Over time, Mother's Day dropped off my radar screen. Some years I forgot about it completely. And now I just don't care. I don't feel bad or sad or bitter. I just don't care.

But we'll see how I feel this year... 

Because this year I will be on vacation with my parents and sisters. One of my sisters lives in a tourist town, so it's a great place for us to meet to visit. My mother is very excited about going out for a Mother's Day lunch. She is calling the whole trip her Mother's Day Weekend trip, which, sure, I guess it is. She's a mom and she'll get to spend Mother's Day weekend with her three adult daughters. That is something to celebrate, and I am not being sarcastic.

So I actually have Mother's Day plans this year, but I really want to go to brunch in Chicago next year! This year should be fine though. I think I'm going in with the right attitude. I will be there to celebrate my family's health and our ability to get together. I don't expect anyone to think twice about what the day might mean to me. If any strong feelings arise, I will tuck them safely away and feel them later when I'm by myself... Preferably on the beach. :)

Picture found here https://www.franklinarts.com/blog/entry/summer-beaches

The Importance of Rest & Friendship

For the first time during the duration of this blog, I feel caught up on sleep! Finally, I am not physically tired. However, I am still tired... 

I picture myself as a video game character with a health meter. After the last 15 years I've had, my health meter has shrunk. It's only 6 hearts as opposed to 10. As in, my capacity has decreased over time. I want to expand my capacity back to what it was, but that will take time. Or maybe, this is how it is now. Time will tell. 

All I can do is my part to take care of myself, which is a tall order these days. Current events are awful and that's an understatement. The price of everything keeps going up while my paycheck stays the same. I am still feeling hurt from events with my family from last year. I also hit the ground running in January because I'm sick of thinking about all of the home repairs that need to be done and I'm finally dealing with them all.

So I'm glad I'm not physically tired, but I still require a lot of rest.  

Rest to restore. It's my theme.

I'm thankful for friends, for the people that really see me and know me. It's invaluable to have people in my life that acknowledge what I've been through, are proud of me, and cheer me on.

It goes both ways too. I helped a friend with a stressful move a couple of weekends ago. I showed up on a Sunday and we loaded up my car and the truck she borrowed from work. It was a move out of necessity, not a move to be excited about. But I was thankful I could show up for her. She's a good friend, she asked for help, and I could give it. Although the circumstances were not ideal, I was thankful for an opportunity to be a friend to her. She and I are both trying to build community in our lives.

And then Elaine sent me the image below. I felt seen, and I felt known. 

Take the time to rest. Make the time for friends.

Drawing by Charlie Mackesy

Infantilizing Childless Women

My family isn't very nice to me. 

There. I said it.

I'm 45 years old and I am constantly criticized for all of my choices: where I live, what I do for work, who I choose as my partner, and how I spend my time. At this point, it is absolutely ridiculous. I am fine. I'm employed. I pay my bills. I am kind. I have hobbies. I volunteer. 

But I don't need to tell you all of this. I don't even need to tell myself. 

I am enough and I don't need to explain my existence or reasoning. 

It's just really, really sad.

I woke up in a bit of a funk yesterday morning. I knew my extended family was gathering for the holidays yesterday, but I chose to take care of myself, not travel, and stay home. I don't regret my decision, but I still missed seeing my cousins. I called my parents to visit and my mom was so mean. She's the kind of person that will insult you and then tell you, "You're overthinking it," when you call her out on it. That is exactly what happened yesterday. I tried not to let it, but it really soured my day. I am a high achieving, accomplished adult, and I am treated like I am an ignorant teenager making bad choices. It's beyond annoying.

I feel like I'm constantly having realizations about my relationships with my family members and learning how to interact differently. But it's a neverending evolution apparently. Hopefully, I learned some new things yesterday because I am really tired of feeling like a hurt and misunderstood kid.

Do I go low contact? I've tried every other strategy so far. I've done nothing wrong. But I am still insulted. My life and my choices are not respected. How my life is and how I am treated by my family is completely incongruous.

Is it because I'm not married? Because I don't have kids? Because I'm the youngest?

I thought as my niece and nephew grew up, the family would realize I was also growing up. But my young adult niece and nephew seem to have surpassed me in the family. They are not criticized for where they live or what they do. It is really, really, really fucking weird.

I am glad I stayed home this weekend. I am glad I did the best I could to take care of myself. I am sorry that I hung up the phone yesterday and continued to replay all of the criticisms lobbed at me on repeat in my head all day. I tried writing a letter to myself in my head telling myself all of the things I wanted to hear. 

I don't know what else to do. I feel like I cannot deal with this anymore. It's not good for me.

It's not right, and it's not fair. I survived my worst nightmare. I don't have kids after planning for them and structuring my entire life around having them. I've been through so much stress and dealt with so much grief: infertility, failed treatments, moving, divorce, a pandemic. I know I've done an amazing, awesome job, but I don't want to have to tell my parents that anymore. It should be the other way around. They should be telling me, not me trying to convince them. 

Did I mention that I'm 45??

And it's not like I'm trying to explain myself. It just happens in conversation. My mom will ask what I've been up to this week, I'll share things like "working and sewing," and whatever I say is always the wrong thing. Wrong job, wrong hobby. It's. So. Bizarre.

When I was a kid and she was mad at me, my mother used to smirk and tell me all the time, "I hope you grow up and have a daughter just like you." And to my credit, I would say, "Me too. Then at least someone in my life would make sense."

Yesterday was just another day in my life with my parents. But just like the acquaintance I wrote about in my last post (the "I know you don't want to see any newborn pictures, but do you want to see just one?" lady), people will say the weirdest shit to me. And out of all of the venting I did to my boyfriend yesterday, I still didn't even tell him the most hurtful thing my mom said. (He is so over it. I was grateful that he was listening to me, but I also wanted to spare him.)

Yesterday my mother said to me, "I know you don't like to hear this. But, as a parent, that's just how it [parenting] is." My MOM tried to parent-splain (that's my version of "mansplain") her treatment of me, her middle aged daughter, as reasonable because she claimed that's how parenting is while simultaneously referencing the fact that I have no children and inferring that I don't know what it's like. 

😳

Wow, lady. 

Just wow.

Attending Weddings Alone and Childless

How do you feel about weddings? Are you invited to any? Do you love them, dread them, or do you not feel strongly one way or another? Have your feelings changed over time? I'm just curious.

Maybe I've been lucky but most of the weddings I've attended have been great. I've never been stuck in a long, boring ceremony, and most of the receptions have been a lot of fun. But when I think about it, most of the weddings I've been to were quite a while ago. I think I've only been to two in the last decade. 

I used to love weddings. I still like them, but I don't love them the way I used to. 

I think infertility changed them for me. I always associated marriage with having children for myself because that's what I wanted to do: get married and have kids. It's the norm in society. So weddings often reference future children and that always stings because 1) it sucks that that didn't work out for me and 2) I hope the newly married couple doesn't have to go through infertility if they want to conceive children.

Interestingly, I don't think divorce changed weddings too much for me. I loved being married. And I love being divorced. However, whereas getting married was really fun, getting divorced was obviously not fun. But still, my experience with marriage and divorce doesn't change my feelings about weddings.

I will say this though. I gave everyone a plus-one to my wedding. If you were going to come to my wedding, I wanted you to enjoy your time with someone, whether it was your boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, or mother. I didn't care. 

When I think of the last two weddings I've attended, they were weird. I attended the last two weddings alone. Even when you know people at the wedding, it feels weird to go to one alone. I mean, the whole thing is a celebration of a relationship. (I don't have to be in a romantic relationship, but it's more fun to enjoy the event with someone. Twenty years ago I took my best friend to a wedding for another friend, and she and I had a great time.)

The first wedding I went to alone was because my husband didn't want to go. So he didn't go. So I traveled out of state to go to my cousin's wedding by myself. I stayed in a nice hotel room by myself and attended the ceremony (where future children were definitely referenced and I was going through infertility at the time) and then the reception by myself. Earlier in the day I went to lunch and a museum with my dad, and at the reception I ended up getting to know and hanging out with the wife of one of my cousins. I had a good time, but it felt weird to be childless and alone at the wedding.

The second wedding I went to alone was recent. I went alone because my boyfriend was very rudely and explicitly not invited. I was hurt but went anyway because it was a person very close to me. Well, it was a person who I thought I was close to. Anyway, I went. And I was the only person there in a relationship whose partner was not invited. I felt like how I feel during the holiday season sometimes, like I'm a person just looking from the outside in on everyone else's families during a joyous time. Again, it felt weird to be childless and alone at the wedding. Not to mention the hurtful things that were said.

I still like weddings. I don't know how many more will be in my future. But if I'm invited and able to go, I will. I love love. And I love the team approach to life. So I love to celebrate two people getting married and becoming a team. The ceremonies are usually short, and the receptions are fun because it's just happy people celebrating.

I still enjoy weddings, but I doubt I'll go to one alone again.

Extreme Burnout

For the duration of this blog (8 years next month!), I have written about how tired I am.

You know my story...

Infertility, failed treatments, and realizing I won't be raising kids in this lifetime wiped me out. For a couple of years I didn't do much. I volunteered Wednesday mornings and went out to dinner with my husband every Friday night. I wasn't working because I assumed that I would eventually get pregnant. I wasn't socializing because all of my friends were getting pregnant and having kids. I was too anxious and depressed to actually enjoy doing anything, so I wasn't doing anything for fun. At least I had my dog at the time.

Then I decided, since I couldn't have kids, I was going to have to completely change my life or resign myself to always feeling like walking death. From the house we bought to my chosen profession of teaching, every major decision I had made in life was structured around having children. But I didn't have children, so the life I had created did not make sense. In fact, it hurt me deeply in every waking moment. Grief is exhausting, especially disenfranchised grief because it's so isolating.

I decided to sell the house I bought for my children, go back to school to change careers, and move out of state. I did all of that and then got divorced. Everything was exhausting. I also kept moving in search of a place where I wanted to live. Then the pandemic hit. 

Throw in more school (a privilege but still stressful) and several more job changes due to hazardous conditions at one place, an untrustworthy co-worker at another place, and being grossly underpaid at the last place...

I have been very tired for a very, very long time.

And I think I have reached my limit.

I tried giving myself a three-month sabbatical several years ago. It helped at the time but not overall. So now I am just following through with what I've already said I'd do and not committing to anything new.

I went out of town the last two weekends. One was a quick but stressful overnight family trip. The other was a days-long professional conference. Then this week, despite getting enough sleep every night, I have felt sick. Waves of nausea come and go throughout the day. I am worn out.

Infertility took so much from me. It is more than losing my kids and not getting to be a mom. It's also all the time lost to fear, anxiety, stress, depression, and exhaustion. It's the arduous recovery from the whole experience. It's the picking up the pieces of what's left and figuring out what to do with myself instead... and then actually doing it. I HAD to get up every day and do the things that I needed to do to get to where I am now. Nobody else could do it for me. But damn it was hard and I am still so, so tired.

I am trying to renew my health. I have exercised once a week for the last three weeks. That's not a lot, but it's a start. I am about to begin a new sew-along for a new quilt, and that community is fun. The season is changing and I love the fall and winter. I will feel better in time, but it is going to take an extended period of decreased demands on myself.

I am grateful I am in a good place. I like myself and I like where I am. But damn, I can just barely deal with life anymore. I am doing the bare minimum and giving myself a lot of grace. 

It's been a long 12 years.

Take good care of yourself.

I like to color. It's calming, and it requires no thought or precision. 

You don't even have to stay in the lines if you don't want to.

My Different Life

I recently traveled to see family. It was great to see people. I will never take our collective health and availability to get together for granted. However, I noticed that I did not feel completely at ease.

Last week's trip really showed me how I've completely changed my life. 

It's not something I can totally put into words yet, but all of the mixed feelings are right there under the surface just waiting to be sorted through.

I am so different from my family. The biggest difference is that I am childless. I am also divorced and have not remarried. I do not make a lot of money. I do not live in a city with all of its conveniences. I do not even live in the same state as most of them. (And trust me, cultural differences between states definitely exist.) 

My life is fundamentally different from those I grew up with. It is structured differently. It has different demands and requirements. I do not have their same routines and milestones. Therefore, I cannot live life the way they do. I have to live my own life, whether my family understands this or not.

It was just really apparent to me recently in a way it has never been before. All of the criticisms, all of the suggestions that were given to me... They just don't make sense anymore. They don't relate to me. I no longer listen to them.

You know how you can sometimes feel lonely even when you are surrounded by love? In those moments while out of town, I would remember my home. I would think about my sewing room and my new friends (all of whom are either childless or their children are grown, so we have the same rhythms in life right now). I thought about my boyfriend who comforts me and makes me laugh all day long. 

I love my family so much. I also love my completely different life that I've worked so hard to create.

Comic retrieved from https://www.boylecounseling.com/see-life-side/
(This website is shared for photo credit; I am unfamiliar with and do not endorse its services.)

Personal Update & Peer Support

Hello! Hi! How are you? I've missed you. 

And quite honestly, I need you. Thank you for being here.

In my last post, I didn't know if I was ending this blog or not. Well, actually, I thought I was done with it. I thought the theme had run its course. I mean, I achieved my goal. I created a life I want to live. And now I am living it.

What happened is I got my feelings hurt. By two little anonymous comments that really weren't that big of a deal, just strangers spouting their opinion on what I'd written without full context or understanding. The first time it happened I engaged. The second time I did not. But I thought, life is hard enough, I don't need this. And I don't. None of us do. So I took a break from blogging.

But guess what.

It's not the strangers that can hurt us the most. It is the people we know and love. Or rather, it is the people we thought we knew that can cut us deeply... 

Over the last several months while I haven't been blogging, I had a close family member say very mean, rude, and unnecessary things to me. I don't want to write about it yet because I would hate for anything to go viral when I am still struggling with processing and navigating the whole thing. I apologize for being vague. You're not missing anything juicy or interesting. A close family member said some things and made a very short-sighted decision, and I am very very hurt. Like, this will permanently affect our relationship. What the future will look like, I do not know. But I do know that things will never be the same. There was Before and there will be After.

So if a stranger is hate-reading my blog, whatever asinine and judgmental comments they leave me behind their "anonymous" shield won't really affect me anymore. They can't hurt me. I don't even know them.

It's the people we love that can hurt us the most. Being deeply hurt is the biggest thing that's happened to me this summer. It's changed everything.

Other important updates are that my boyfriend and I are back together and have been for a while now. We worked hard to communicate, we're each making our own changes, and we are happily back together! I am not surprised that we got back together because I knew we loved and liked each other so much, but I was surprised by how quickly it all happened.

Also, I quit another job. I loved that job, but I was very underpaid. It didn't feel good. I grew a lot professionally in that position, but it was definitely time for me to move on. It was scary to quit, but I knew I needed to so I did.

I still have my other job that I love. It's in a nursing home and I only work every now and then. 

But I already have a new part-time job and it has nothing to do with caregiving!

For the past 27 years, I've worked in education and healthcare. I have taken care of thousands of other people's children, parents, and grandparents. It's wonderful, awesome, rewarding, and a privilege to be a caregiver. It is also exhausting. And lacking in reciprocity. (Just being honest...) But when I'm giving my all to students and patients, I don't really get that much back. They're not MY kids or parents or grandparents. It is a professional relationship that does not involve unconditional love or even fellowship outside of our appropriate setting. Plus, caregiving jobs are typically done by women and are extremely underpaid. It's a lot of giving without getting a lot in return. I hate to say all of this, but it's true. And knowing all of this makes me appreciate this new job opportunity working for a small, family-owned company. I don't think I ever want to fully step away from healthcare, but I don't think I will ever be able to do clinical work full-time. It's extremely demanding, and I need to honor the sensitive constitution that I was born with. 

These have all been good realizations for me.

It's a lot of change. I had no idea that year 2024 was going to be so transformational. It feels like I'm letting everything go (relationships, jobs, old behavioral patterns) and seeing what comes back. My life is restructuring itself. Again. 

And amidst all of this, I have returned to working on my research about involuntary childlessness. Here's something interesting. I found it was harder to go through the narrative data this time around compared to previous periods of data analysis. It's taken me by surprise. I've had to slow down, work in shorter bursts, and give myself emotional recovery time. It's hard reading about other women's difficult experiences and all of the things that have been said and done to them. Really hard. Especially when it's all so relatable.

But I am committed! And I am grateful. What an opportunity and privilege to be able to conduct an international qualitative pilot study. I am looking forward to sharing the results of my research at several different state conferences this fall. Then I will draft an article for publication in an academic journal to get the research officially documented and accessible!

But I need you. I need this community. I have myself, my understanding boyfriend, and my supportive friends. But there's my family that always invalidates and infantilizes me. And there's a whole, big pronatalist world that makes so many assumptions about me and my life. It's just hard being so misunderstood. I know members of other marginalized groups feel the same way.

We need each other.

(Image taken from a company website that provides website support.
I know nothing about this company, just giving credit to where I found the picture.)

The Things We Say

Mali's latest post on Language and Assumptions was perfect timing for me. She writes, "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." She briefly references "as a mother" and "childLESS" in particular. Both of these sentiments came up when I was with my family last week.

*****

First, my mom was telling a story about waiting outside the restrooms at a sports stadium. She overheard a little boy saying he refused to go into the women's restroom and the woman he was with (presumably his mother) saying that she had to use the bathroom. My mom stepped in and told the woman, "I am a mother and a grandmother. I can wait with your boy right here while you go to the bathroom." And so she did. And that was the story. 

When the story ended I said, "So I couldn't have waited with the little boy?" And my mom looked confused and asked what I meant. I said, "Well, I'm not a mother or a grandmother, so I guess I couldn't have waited with the boy." She stammered and said something like that's-not-what-I-meant. She told me I could have said, "I was a teacher. I can wait with your boy."

My mom seemed defensive and I let her know that was not my intention, that I was just pointing out the pronatalist world that I live in 24/7. I'm not mad at her for her defensiveness. I am just really seeing in a new light how threatened majority populations feel when marginalized populations find their voice. 

*****

Then at another time we were all at dinner. I don't even remember what we were talking about... Oh, I think it was about how it seems like more younger people are choosing to not have kids. My niece doesn't want kids. My nephew doesn't want kids. One of my sister's stepdaughters doesn't want kids. Someone mentioned the word "childfree," and one of my sisters smiled at me and said, "You're childfree!" And I said, "No, I am childless..." I was going to say "not by choice" but got cut off as she countered, "No, you are childfree." And all I said was, "We all get to choose how we self-identify."

*****

Language and assumptions... We could talk about this for days, weeks, and the rest of our lives!

Your Friendly Reminder To Do What You Want

I finally had some days off last week. I spent them running errands and going to medical appointments. I have some days off this week too. I am spending them doing what I feel like. Sewing, sleeping, watching tv. My house needs cleaning and decluttering, but I am very tired.

I will admit that I rented a storage unit. I accept that I'm keeping too many keepsakes, tea cups, and framed things, but I'm not ready to purge any of them yet. So yesterday I got a small storage closet to get them out of my house. But today it's raining so I'm not going to move anything.

I am resting instead.

We have all been through so much in the last couple of years, and that was on top of what we'd already been through before that. It's a hell of a lot. It's demanding. It's exhausting. It's hard on our bodies, our minds, our hearts, and our souls.  

How can you give yourself a break? What demands can you decrease or set down altogether? Where in your day or week can you give yourself some time to do nothing? 

The bills don't stop coming and neither does the bad news.
How can we shift our thinking so that we see and recognize the good stuff too? 

Like, I get aggravated with how much utilities cost, but I also love having indoor plumbing in my home. Going to the grocery store stresses me out, but I'm glad I have access to food. I don't say these things in a flippant way, and cultivating gratitude for all of the little/big things in life doesn't solely sustain me. But it does help me. So I'm sharing in case it helps you. 

Our brains are hardwired to hold on to the bad information. It's a protective action. I've had to put in a lot of work over the decades to learn how to see and recognize the good. It doesn't dismiss or absolve the bad, but it does help balance it out.

The loss of motherhood was more than the loss of my lifelong dream and my primal yearning to raise and nurture little humans in my home as they grew to be adults. It was also the loss of societal roles, normative routines, and expected milestones. It was the loss of a life that was completed structured around having children. It was the loss of relationships with family and friends as every single one of them changed. It was the loss of connection with others. It was the loss of connection with myself. It was the loss of who I was and who I thought I'd be. 

And then we all endure a pandemic? One that never really ended, it just wore us down as we adapted to this neurological virus becoming endemic.

Moving sucks. Finding a job and place to live. Packing, moving, closing down accounts, opening new accounts, changing your address on everything, learning your new town and neighborhood, meeting people, finding a place for yourself... It all takes years. And so many of us move so often. It sucks. It really sucks.

Divorce sucks. Changing your name back sucks. Even when it's "easy," it still completely sucks. It's the end of a relationship that you thought would be there forever. It shook my foundation, my sense of security. It was also freeing because I was so painfully lonely. But it still sucked. I don't ever, ever want to get divorced again.

Working a job you hate sucks. But how else are we going to buy our milk, coffee, fabric, car insurance, and rent/mortgage? I'm extremely thankful that I like what I do at my job. I worked hard to find something I liked and was good at. But not everyone gets that chance. 

It's a lot. It's a lot of stress. For anyone. And for so many of us, we are navigating it all under a thick blanket of disenfranchised grief. It can make everything heavier and harder. 

What can you quit? 

I'm a big fan of quitting. I'm countercultural like that. If it sucks, I quit. My parents used to worry that I'd had so many jobs, but now all of my experiences are such a benefit to my career. I've worked in multiple industries with all ages in all settings, and the skills are transferrable. I quit law school. I quit my marriage. I quit infertility treatments. If it's not good for us, we should quit. 

Life is too short.

Can you do less? Can you rest? Can you go to bed earlier and/or get up later?

What do you do to get in the flow? 

You deserve to enjoy your life.

(Artwork above found here for sale.)

(And listen to the song Enjoy Yourself, It's Later Than You Think here.)

Infertility Changes Things

I am halfway through my pediatrics coverage for my co-worker who is out on maternity leave and... I just don't like it. Quite honestly, it has been messing with my mind. I have always loved kids, always loved working with kids. But apparently, I am freaking over it.

I've said before that I never intended to have a career working with kids. I became a teacher to kill time until I became a stay-at-home mom. Spoiler alert: that never happened. Then I kept working with kids because that is what I knew and what I was good at.

I was really resisting the idea that infertility changed that for me. But I'm starting to be honest with myself. Infertility and being childless not-by-choice DID change it for me. I accept that now.

Infertility changes everything.

It's not entirely infertility's fault. There are some other factors that I just don't like now. When I started working with children, there were no iPads. Kids were not constantly plugged in. Kids did not expect to be entertained all of the time. Kids eventually got bored and felt motivated to read or to engage in creative play. Not anymore.

But infertility IS a major part of why I don't like teaching or working in pediatrics anymore. I don't want to deal with the consequences of other people's parenting. (Or the lack thereof.) I didn't get to parent, so I don't know kids' pop culture anymore. And I don't care. I still haven't seen Frozen, which is old by now, and I know I never will.

It's a world I'm not a part of. I've created a whole new world for myself, one that honors who and where I am now. Going back into pediatrics feels like major regression. It also makes me irritable. Just ask my boyfriend. (Thanks for the support, babe! It's almost over.)

I also traveled and saw my family this weekend. That is different too.

I talked to one of my aunts about my research project, involuntary childlessness after infertility. She was very receptive and even read my powerpoint presentation. I used to not be able to talk about the topic at all, especially with fertile people. That has changed.

I got along with my mom too. That's new. Of course, I am giving myself full credit for that one because she is still difficult. But I just don't care anymore. Not like I used to. Her personality is not my fault, and I am not going to make it my problem. I stood up for myself when needed, but mostly I just redirected the conversation to better topics when ugliness started rearing its head. 

At one point she was trying to tell me what my boyfriend and his young adult son should be doing. I told her that her comments were full of judgment, and she argued with that. But I did not acquiesce. She has not made an effort to get to know my boyfriend and his life, nor does she know much about his son. In addition to telling her how judgmental she was being I said, "I don't have to worry about any of that. I don't have kids."

She started arguing with me!!!

She said, "Well, that's not true." (It's not true that I don't have kids??) She continued, "You take care of a lot of people. His son is living in your house right now so that gives you a say. You take care of your patients. You take care of..." I cut her off. I simply said, "I. Don't. Have. Kids. All I have to take care of is myself."

Geez, she is such a control freak. And a self-professed expert on everyone else's lives.

Anyway, sorry about that. I just needed to vent about my mother who will never get it.

But I HAVE changed. I DO care less. I don't expect her to understand, and I've stopped explaining myself. It's progress. And I have infertility to thank for that.

Infertility changes everything.

Excluded Again

I'm feeling a little bit bummed. Yesterday I learned my boyfriend's family is all getting together for the weekend for his sister's youngest kid's birthday. We weren't invited. I think it's weird.

Being excluded doesn't hurt like it used to. It's more annoying than hurtful. It ain't my first rodeo.

I've written about my friend whose kid I was very close to. I was invited to every birthday party until I wasn't. Now THAT hurt me at the time.

I've written about my own sisters not including me when they would do stuff together with their kids. Sure, I was in my teens/twenties at the time, but I still would've liked to have been included.

I've written about my ex-sisters-in-law, who were my age and had children. They got together all the time with their kids and without their kids. I was never invited. One of them lived next door.

So it's not like being excluded by parents is a new experience for me. And, like I said, it's not painful like it used to be. But I was excluded again, and I noticed.

I told my boyfriend that I have to pull away from my relationship with her. I love his sister, but I can't put myself in the situation of continual disappointment. It's best to process now and move forward knowingly. I am not going to be the aunt to these children that I thought I might be because we are never invited to the big (or small) events. 

That's fine. It's fine. 

I'm glad I know how to protect myself. I'm glad I've learned to lower my expectations for others.

I'm not in a close relationship with anyone currently raising children.

And it annoys me greatly that the general public thinks I can have some great role with other people's children when parents repeatedly fail to include me in their lives.

Picture retrieved from 

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/07/learning/have-you-ever-been-left-out.html

When People Are Noise

Some people will never change. Some people will never get it.

Thankfully, I have changed. What used to make me angry now makes me annoyed. What used to hurt me now shows me what's in other people's hearts and minds. Others' rudeness, meanness, and inconsideration have nothing to do with me. It's not my fault, and it's not my problem.

What prompted this latest round of thoughts? 

I talked to my sister yesterday. The insensitive one. Although nobody in my family has shown me they're willing to go the extra mile to even consider what living childless not by choice is like, this sister takes it to another level. Quite honestly, calling her insensitive is euphemistic for cruel.

So yesterday... My sister doesn't return most of my texts so when she called yesterday, even though I was just sitting down for a big work session for school assignments, I answered the phone. What resulted was a 45-minute conversation where she did not ask me a single question. She did, however, go on about cleaning out her closets for the past three weekends. She told me, "You have no idea how much stuff you can gather. It takes so long to go through everything." Of course, I just moved my stuff out of storage after seven years and spent two weeks unpacking and sorting (keep, donate, throw away), but she doesn't know any of that. I just agreed and let her prattle on. There's no getting in a single word with her and her one-sided "conversations."

But guess what her good news was. 

Her daughter's boyfriend has started calling her "Mamma Smith." Isn't that the greatest?? Isn't that just so cute?? Like she told me, "He calls me Mom! That feels so good!"

Um... 😑

"I can only imagine," is what I think I mustered to say.

She went on for a bit while I sat there with my mouth hanging open listening to her talk about how great it is to be called Mom. How thoughtless. How totally and completely thoughtless of her. 

I was mad. I was sad. But mostly... I was over it.

*****

I am reaching a new point of acceptance. I accept that my family, especially this sister, will never get it. I am learning to accept that they'll never provide the understanding or comfort that I seek. 

2022 has been quite the year of rest and growth for me. And it's not over yet!

My conversation with my sister may have sucked, but I am thankful for my sense of self and everything else I've worked so hard to cultivate in my life.

*****

Ignore the haters, my friends!

(Image found at https://www.myasbn.com/small-business/entrepreneurship/how-to-ignore-the-haters-and-the-naysayers/)

Feeling Criticized and I'm Just Living My Life

Where I am today with living CNBC after infertility:

I am struggling with the fact that my life is structured so fundamentally differently than everyone else I know, that I feel judged for my choices, and that I have no words to describe how impacted my life is by infertility. Not only that, but I am SICK of feeling like I have to explain myself.

Thank you, Loribeth, for sharing this article by Yael Wolfe called Single & Childless Women Are Tired of Justifying Their Existence. Yes!!!

I admit it. I let my mom get in my head again recently. Or, maybe she never left. 

My mom loves me. I really believe she does. But I also believe what she told me on my 18th birthday which was, "I will always love you but I do not like you." That hurt. Almost 25 years later, it still hurts. Because it still feels true.

If I'm not doing what she wants or thinking what she thinks, then I am wrong. It is embarrassing and annoying that I still feel affected by her words. But yet, our last conversation from a couple of weeks ago is still lingering in my mind. She was questioning my relationship and making judgments, and it really pissed me off because she does not try to understand my life, my losses, or what I need. 

I was also trying to picture my grandmother--my mom's mother--criticizing my mom's life choices when she was 42 and married with a 12 year old, a 20 year old, and a 24 year old. I doubt that ever happened.

One thing that bothers me is that I'm always thinking about how I would mother myself. I wouldn't criticize a 42-year-old daughter for moving or getting divorced or quitting extremely bad jobs. I wouldn't say things similar to "that's always at the top of your list" if she talked about how infertility continues to affect her life. I would encourage her, comfort her, and praise her. So I try to give myself what my mother doesn't. But I will be honest, I long to hear those sentiments from my mom. But she can't say any of them, not even if I give her a script.

It sucks. I've done so much, overcome so much, and I am still criticized. What I do is never the right thing. However I live, it is not good enough for her. I know it's not me. I know it's her.
But it still hurts.

And it's not just my mom. My sisters don't get it either. I always feel criticized. My niece and nephew, both of whom are in their late 20s, are treated with more respect and allowed for more autonomy than me. It's always been this way. It is freaking WEIRD.

But back to Yael's article... I deeply appreciate when I read something and I feel understood. It's even better when it helps me understand my own experience more. Like these quotes:

• "I’d really prefer to focus my energy on dealing with my own stuff. It’s a lot. I really don’t need to be dealing with societal expectations, invasive questions, insults, criticisms, and irrelevant opinions."
  
  
• "I never asked for this--to be the poster child for women's "alternative lifestyles." To have to push back against pronatalism and sexism even within my own family."
  
  
• "It takes a lot out of you to have to constantly justify your life circumstances to others."

I think, as a woman who wanted children and planned her entire life around raising them, infertility and being childless not by choice continues to affect my life in ways that even I don't yet understand. So when I am criticized for even the smallest thing, I feel attacked for something that was entirely out of my control.

I'm just playing the hand I was dealt.

And getting criticized for it.

*****

My parting question is this: How did you stop explaining yourself? 

I think that's what I need to do. I kept thinking that if I just explained my reasoning, then others would understand (and support) my choices. But, this is not proving to be true. I just need to stop.

My Week through My Infertile Lens

First of all, did you check out World Childless Week?
I found the letters to my younger self to be particularly powerful. 

*****

Ok, now for my first thought from this past week...

Back in July, I signed up to do something in September. At the time, I did not know what my work or school schedule was going to look like, but I made a commitment to do this activity anyway.

As the date approached, I was still looking forward to it. (No commitment remorse, haha!)  And then the day came. I gathered my nerves and went. I tried something new, and I had fun.

It was a quilt workshop. I went to one last year, so the experience wasn't entirely new. But I didn't know who was going or what it was going to be like. I read the flyer about the teacher, the techniques, and the custom pattern she was going to teach us and wanted to go. So I signed up and went. Even better, the other women in the class were not only nice, but warm and friendly. I had a great time.

I was curious if anyone else didn't have kids like me. 

Well, I knew the teacher had kids. She mentioned them once during her presentation at the quilt group meeting earlier in the week. And I knew another woman had a son because I had visited with her before. I did not know about the others.

I just waited. I figured I'd figure it out.

Pretty quickly, two other women mentioned grandchildren. I mean, we were at a quilt workshop. It's a group of women talking about quilts they've made and for whom. Kids and grandkids are inevitable topics. It's completely appropriate. I'm not complaining. 

I was just curious. So, I continued to listen and notice...

A fifth woman mentioned grandchildren in passing. She was talking about using cowboy fabric to make a quilt for her grandson.

And then there was one. There was one other woman who had not mentioned children or grandchildren throughout our day-long workshop. But then, toward the end of class, she got a phone call from a grandkid inviting her over later that day.

Ah, well. Maybe next time! ;)

*****

My second thought is personal. It's relieving news. My plumbing is fixed!
It took all week. The whole thing is almost done. Fingers crossed they finish tomorrow.

I found the whole ordeal to be extremely stressful. I was anxious all day every day last week. I'm still trying to settle my nerves. My anxiety just shoots so high, so quick. And I truly think it has to do with years of infertility followed by failed treatments. It's like something was triggered in me back then, and now it doesn't take much to make me anxious. 

It's honestly difficult. I don't understand it, so I don't expect others to understand it. My boyfriend was a great support, as was his family. I texted his mom and one of his sisters and they validated my stress. My family was glad for me that the problem was getting fixed but didn't seem to get how stressful the whole thing was for me.

It's got me thinking about the long-term effects of infertility and failed treatments. For me, the experiences were traumatic. I think it made my anxiety much worse.

*****

Then, for my third reflection, my boyfriend and I went to a family-friendly outdoor event today. There were adults, kids, babies, teens, old people, and basically everyone. 

I remember attending last year. It was one of the first things we did during the pandemic. We felt safe because it was outside and we were both vaccinated. But still, it was the first time we had been out and about in a very long time. 

I remember being fascinated with all of the families with their various numbers and ages of kids. I just liked casually observing all the kids and people watching. It was just so nice to be out of the house and doing something fun.

So I was excited to go again this year. And it was cool! I loved it. We're gonna get there earlier next year so we can see more stuff.

But I noticed a shift in what caught my attention this time. I paid more attention to the different styles of walkers and wheelchairs than I did any of the families. I noticed the kids but nobody was particularly interesting. I was more into the outdoor show and enjoying time with my boyfriend than anything else.

I did not feel deep in childless grief last year. But I can tell a huge difference anyway from then to now. It's incredible how this CNBC experience continues to evolve. 

I had no idea what all was possible.