When It's Hard To Connect

My life isn't organized around my children. That must be obvious since I don't have children. But it's such a sneaky little (big) thing that I forget myself and it's my life. But, that's probably because I'm living my life, which is not organized around my children as we just established, so when I remember that the rest of the world's is AND they expect mine to be organized in the same way... Well, it can be jarring. It makes me feel like a puzzle piece that never quite fits in.

Traveling reminded me. I took a really cool trip with my mom and sisters last month. It was a lot of fun and we met some other nice people too. But wow, does everyone talk about their kids and grandkids nonstop. I mean, they really do. It's an objective fact. This isn't me being sensitive. 

My mom even started telling her birth story about having me one night when it was just me and my sisters. They were reminiscing about the night I was born. I interrupted to say, "I usually don't listen to any mother's birth story, but I'll listen to yours because it's about me."

One of my sisters always talks about her kid. Always has. It's a little weird and now it feels awkward for me because I don't talk to her adult kid but whatever. That's my sister and that's her kid that I've known for the kid's whole life. I listen. It's fine. 

Hearing about other people's kids constantly doesn't hurt me like it used to. It makes sense. These people have kids so it makes sense for them to talk about them. I just noticed on the trip how much this topic can dominate conversations. There were several group dinners where I just didn't say much at all. (But don't worry about me, the food was awesome, haha.)

And you know it's not just my family. It was the various people we met too. Everyone talked about their kids and their grandkids. A lot. Again, normal. I mean, not for me. But it's normal for them.

But it was so much that I even asked the sister I was rooming with, "Do you notice how much everyone talks about their kids?" And she said yes, she'd definitely noticed. She also said she didn't know if she would've noticed if I wasn't there. But with my presence, she realized how common the conversation topic was.

So I noticed the obvious while traveling--that my life isn't organized around children.

But I also notice it now that I've moved. 

Obviously, I don't have any friends here. I just moved and I don't know anyone. Luckily, every co-worker I've met has been nice and friendly. But, you know, those are my co-workers. I would hope they could be nice and friendly, at least on the surface.

So then I think about where and how to meet some new friends. I know these things take time. Good friendships can take years to form. That's fine. I'm in no hurry. I never want to leave my house anyway, haha. That's actually why I'm thinking about this now. I know I will want to have a friend or two in a couple of years, so I know I better start leaving my house every now and then for something social so I can meet some people. 

But my age group is still busy raising their kids.

This is nothing new to me, but I am confronting it all over again as I think about how to meet new people. It just comes back to how your life is organized. And people's priorities and activities can be very different. We are all busy, but we are busy doing different things on different schedules. 

 

Clip art found on Vecteezy

I'm going to try a sewing workshop. 

A lot of them are during the day while I'm at work, but there are still some offered in the evenings and on the weekends. I signed up for one in a couple of weeks. A day long workshop where we learn a new technique and create a completed project in the day. I know I won't want to go when the day comes, haha. (I'll feel tired and just want a break.) But then I am going to make myself go and I know I'll be glad I went. Whether I end up liking the project or not isn't the point, although
I think I'll like it. 

It's good to get out of the house, be around people, and try something new.

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.

Things Change

I have a new job! And, yes, I also have new job fatigue. But, I am very excited about this new job and, get this, it involves working with children at a school. Hahahaha. Two years after I gave away a hundred boxes full of kids books and educational materials. Oh well. 

I had to clear out the old stuff to make room for the new. And I will not be buying anything this time around. I no longer work for free, nor do I purchase my own supplies. Those days are over. In sooo many ways. I'm saving most of my resources for myself in the second half of my life. I'm lucky I didn't give myself away entirely during the first half! 

(There are a lot of metaphors in that previous paragraph.)

I wasn't looking for this job. The opportunity came my way, I decided to explore it, and the pay is really good. Unfortunately, it's just part-time so I will continue to piece together several jobs to make my monthly bills. However, because of my piecemeal situation, I am fortunate to be able to work with both children AND older and elderly adults. I love both populations so much.

So... New job... I go to my first day yesterday and a co-worker is showing me the documentation system. We are being conversational and totally getting along well, which is great because we will be working together closely this year. (Seriously, anything can happen, but I have never had such a great start to a new job before!) 

Then she asks me, "Do you have kids?" This is a typical question. We work at a school and she was just telling me about her kid. While it used to cut deeply, this question is just typical get-to-know-you banter among women working together in a school. So I just said, "No," because, well, I obviously do not have kids.

Her reply surprised me. She immediately said, "Lucky you!" 

Now I wasn't mad or hurt or offended or anything, but I also wasn't going to let that slide. To me, there is nothing lucky about my situation. So I said, "Well I wanted them badly but that didn't work out for me."

And, again, her reply surprised me. She immediately said, "Oh I get that. I wanted more but she was a traumatic birth and I had heart failure after her so the doctor told me if I had another baby I would die."

Oh. 

She went on, "And people say the dumbest things. People are always asking me why I didn't have more. And I'm like, well I don't want to die so I can't, but obviously they don't know that."

And I agreed. I said people don't get it and that they don't understand the pain of secondary infertility. Then we moved on to talking about other things. 

I didn't feel misjudged. I didn't feel dismissed. I didn't feel anything bad.

I felt like my new co-worker kinda got it. We didn't stay on the topic long and I doubt we'll really even talk about it. I didn't get the impression that either one of us were still in that hurt space.

It's so funny how things change over time. I used to feel so embarrassed by my infertility and ashamed of being childless not-by-choice. Not anymore. Not at all. I'm just living my life. And currently my life involves being excited for my new job working with kids!

THE Hardest/Best Thing??

I got irritated listening to the radio yesterday. It was an interview with two musicians, but they veered off track from talking about writing songs, playing instruments, and touring and started talking about motherhood. I should have just changed the channel, but I figured they would quickly return to talking about music. They did but not before I felt affected. :(

It was short, but they talked about being a mother and a musician. A touring musician no less. Which I imagine is very difficult. But then they touched on motherhood in general. The interviewer described having children as "the HARDEST thing EVER" and really emphasized it. Then she followed with the somewhat predictable "BUT it is absolutely the BEST thing EVER too." 

Ok, whatever.
We've all heard that before. 

But for some reason my brain got stuck on it yesterday. THE hardest thing ever?? Now I know she wasn't talking to me directly or even to a population of childless not-by-choice women, but I immediately thought, "Yes, parenting is extremely hard, but I don't think it's harder than not getting to parent when you wanted to do so."

I agree with my immediate thought, and I disagree with my immediate thought. I agree with it because I think involuntary childlessness is just as hard, if not harder, than parenting. I disagree with it because it's not a competition. And the two are hard to compare. They are opposites.

When really... Maybe people should stop describing parenting as The HARDEST but BEST thing Ever. Maybe that's not the best message to give to everyone. Maybe it's the hardest thing for YOU. Maybe it's the best thing for YOU. But these are not absolutes that apply to everyone.

I went for a specialized breast exam last week. (Results were fine! I'm good for another year.) The woman doing my exam was great at making conversation. She asked, "So, what's your story? Where are you from? What do you do? Do you have any kids? Pets?" I answered her questions briefly, skipping over the kid question. She came back to the kid question and I quickly filled her in that it didn't work out for me.

She got quiet and then apologized. She said, "I am so sorry. I can tell you would have been a great mom." I agreed with her (haha) and said, "Oh I know, I was born to be a mother. Except I wasn't." And gave her a smile.

She got quiet again and then said, "It doesn't make you happy."

I met her where she was, lowered my voice, and said, "I'm sure it doesn't." 

She said, "But that's what we were told. Get married, have kids, be happy. And, oh my gosh, don't get me wrong, I love my kids." (I interrupted and said, "Of course you love your kids! But whatever you say is safe with me. I won't judge.") And she just sighed and said, "I love my kids, but it's not what I thought it was going to be. Having kids doesn't make you happy."

And that is the kind of honest conversation we should be having with each other. Having kids IS hard. NOT having kids when you wanted them is also hard. Parenting can be the best experience for some people but not everyone. Being a mom doesn't guarantee happiness.

Underlying Assumptions Get Old

Experiencing infertility and being childless not-by-choice changed me in too many ways to count. After living my whole life with my own personal problems (depression and anxiety) but pretty damn good and lucky circumstances (loving family, stable housing, etc.), going through infertility and involuntary childlessness gave me the experience of being part of a marginalized, even invisible, population. It made me more aware of society's assumptions and more sensitive to some of the struggles other people experience (though I would never claim someone else's hardships and lessons as my own). 

But now I know how little I know. 

And I am grateful to know what I do know.

*****

Here is a very small thing that is another example of the pronatalist assumptions in our society. 

(By the way, in the draft of this post, the word "pronatalist" was underlined in red, so I just added it to my blogging dictionary of recognized words.) 

I was at a work training. It was just me, a co-worker, and our manager who was leading the training. The topic was skin integrity and the different products we have at our facility. Our manager was describing under what circumstances you would use each product. For one of the products, she said you would use it when the patient's skin "looked like diaper rash." 

During our break, I turned to my co-worker. Our jobs do not involve working with babies. I asked her if she had ever seen diaper rash. She said no. I said neither had I. I asked my co-worker, "Why would she reference diaper rash if she is training two women who don't have children?"

Pronatalism strikes again. Not all women are mothers.

I suppose it's sexist too, assuming that all women have taken care of babies at some point...

*****

It's not the small, individual comments that hurt or even annoy me anymore, not at this stage of my healing. It's the overall onslaught of all of them. It's all of the underlying assumptions. It's the constant feeling of having my existence invalidated in a way that I can't explain to people who don't experience it themselves.

And that gives me some insight as to how much I don't understand other groups' marginalization.

I want to use what I've learned and experienced to try to better see and connect with others.

Picture found on an unrelated article here:
https://diversityq.com/the-great-disconnection-is-costing-340-billion-every-year/

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!

Excluded at Work

I got mad last week. Really, really annoyed.

I am somewhat used to birth announcement emails at work. I do not think they are appropriate, and I definitely do not appreciate them. But, I realize that they are a thing. I don't know why, but they are an accepted practice in the workplace. 

(And, no, I'm not against celebrating people's good news. I just know that for every birth announcement email accompanied with a picture of the newborn, there is at least one person who has just had a miscarriage or is struggling with infertility. And that person definitely did not need to see that email as they are managing everything on top of their work responsibilities.)

So, sure, whatever. So-and-so had a baby. And now the baby is born. Fine. I'm glad everything went well. Truly. That is not sarcasm. I am not a monster.

However.

Last week I received a department-wide email that really pissed me off. It was about the woman I am covering for while she is out on maternity leave. The subject was "[Baby's name] Update." And I was like, what the... I clicked on it, and there were FIVE pictures of this baby.

What. 

I didn't need that in my life.

The email said they are so happy for mom and baby and cannot wait until she is back at work. There was no mention of me who is covering while she is out. I felt like I was unappreciated, like they just want me gone so my co-worker can return. But I realize I may be reading too much into it. My feelings about everything may be coloring my perspective.

But here's what made me mad. There was never a department-wide email sent out about my graduation. That actually has something to do with the workplace. My doctoral degree is directly related to my profession and career. I don't want the accolade for my ego. But if we're celebrating people's babies, I just wanted equal recognition of my hard work for the past 16 months. You know, since it is actually an appropriate announcement for the workplace... 

I felt so excluded.

I guess only babies are celebrated as an accomplishment where I work.

Conversations with Adults

They're not as easy as conversations with kids.
Kids don't want to solve my problems with a baby like adults seem to want to do.

I engaged in a long conversation at work last week. It was my choice. I chose to do it. But I was still wiped out afterward. It started when I said I'd be out for graduation in a couple of weeks. My co-worker asked about my research and I told her the title of my project. 

It set off a lot of questions from her. Which was good I guess. Because she didn't know much about infertility, fertility treatments, and living childless not-by-choice. And like I said, I chose to have the conversation.

But.

I need to remember how depleted and frustrated I felt.
Maybe I don't want to have those conversations anymore.

Did you try IVF?
Was it really like that?
All those shots?
How many?
How long?
How much?
Like, it's really expensive right?
Should I freeze my eggs?
Well, there's always adoption. Have you thought about adoption?
What about China? 
Can't you get a baby from China?
There's lots of 12 year olds. Why don't you adopt a 12 year old?
What if I got pregnant? I'll just give my baby to you.

I've gotta give my co-worker credit. She filled the BINGO card faster than most. And I promise you that she's a lovely person. Like I said, I chose to have this conversation. (But I honestly wasn't expecting every stereotypical question and comment in the book!)

Anyway.

Now she knows.
Two IVFs. Adoption didn't work either. Was married. Now divorced. ("Well, isn't it good that you didn't have children, then?" Whyyy does everyone think it's okay to say this to me??) No kids. 43. Here I am.

Gah. It was exhausting.

But she learned a lot. And I guess I did too.
Like, I don't want to do that again for a long, long time!

And then adult conversation #2?

Well, it was satisfying because at least I thought of what to say in the moment, instead of after. The context of the conversation doesn't even matter. You'll see. Here goes.

Her: Well, as a parent, I was so worried!

Me: I know! I'm NOT a parent, and I was also worried!!

Again, another lovely person. Just everyone is so entrenched in the pronatalist culture. 

I roll my eyes so much.

Conversation with a 6 year old

I was working with a kid earlier this week. He was probably thinking about who he used to work with, my co-worker who just had a baby and is out on maternity leave. But for whatever reason, he looked at me and said...

Kid: You're not a mom.

Me: Nope, I'm not a mom.

Kid: But you will be a mom.

Me: No, I won't be a mom.

Kid: Why?

Me: Not all girls are moms.

Kid: Why?

Me: Because not everybody's body works like that.

Kid: Oh.

And that was it. He accepted my answer.

He didn't ask any further questions. He didn't suggest adoption. He didn't offer me his kids. Ok, fair enough, he's only 6 and doesn't have any kids to offer. But seriously...

That kid was a breath of fresh air.

Annoying People Will Be Annoying

I may be happy, but I still get angry.
Like at last night's meeting.
I wanted to throw things.

It was a meeting for my profession's organization. It was virtual because all of us live across the state. We were meeting about possibly drafting a bill for the next legislative session. We were discussing logistics like statistics and stakeholders when someone brought up a good point about having a consumer on our task force to help guide our thinking.

But it was what was said next that pissed. me. off.

One woman said, "Do we have anyone on board that this legislation will help? Do we have any healthcare consumers that can't currently access these services? Ooh, do we have a mother that we can invite to join our group? A mother always looks good."

😑 😑 😑

Really?

A mother?

Dammit, I was so pissed. That woman's idea just landed so hard and with a thud. I hated it.

Of course, she would suggest a mother. Someone with kids. Someone Important.
Someone who is Worth Helping, whose life has Meaning and Purpose.

WTF?!?

I immediately wanted to leave the meeting. Just sign off without saying anything. But I didn't. I reminded myself that this woman has rubbed me the wrong way a couple of times over the years. I told myself that the meeting wasn't about this woman or even pronatalism and tried to stick to the topic at hand. 

I'm glad I stayed. It was a productive meeting. Issues were discussed. People picked tasks to do. And we will reconvene in two weeks.

But yeah. I was pissed. It's not just that one little comment but a lifetime of them. They all convey the message that my life is less important, and I am tired of this inaccurate sentiment.

The world should feel more inclusive for us.

Image found at https://kjcg.com/posters/dn4qrr9smxs6defp0n6up4u0dbohd8. 

It looks like this is a poster for sale by this consulting group that creates inclusive, collaborative workplaces. (Interestingly, exclusion in the workplace may be an emerging theme in my study on involuntary childlessness after infertility.)

An Unexpected Conversation

I had an unexpected conversation recently. I don't even know what I want to say about it. Maybe I just want to share that it happened.

I was talking to someone I've met in the last couple of months. I knew she had two kids but didn't know their ages so I asked. (They are 2 and 7 if you were curious, but you probably weren't hahaha.) I was a little surprised that her oldest was 7 because she (the mom) looks so young, but she went on to say that she had her daughter at 18. Oh, okay, that makes sense.

She asked me, "What about you? Do you want kids?"

And I simply said, "I can't."

She probed further and I inexplicably did not mind at all. 

She said, "Why not?" And then apologized saying something like, "Sorry, I know it's not any of my business, but I'm asking anyway."

I actually laughed out loud at her approach and said, "My eggs are bad." She looked confused. I told her, "I waited until I was 30 to start trying and apparently that was too late for me." (Technically, I waited until I was 32 but I remember just saying 30 to her.)

What she said next was predictable: "Well, there's always adoption."

I simply said, "I tried that. I tried everything."

She looked at me with sadness but no pity (I don't know, I can't explain it, that's just how it felt) and said, "That's so sad." I agreed. I said, "It is sad. Thank you."

And then somehow we easily moved from that serious conversation to more light-hearted chatter.

I felt seen and heard by her, and I don't often get that from fertile women.

Everyone's Asking Again

I haven't written lately because I've been fortunate to pick up some holiday hours. I've been working hard, and I love it. I love my job. I'm so glad I didn't drop out of the graduate school program that I hated. (Instead I started this blog. October 2016.) That program was a means to an end, and now I get to work in this new profession. I liked teaching, but I knew I needed to do something different after infertility.

I work with adults now. I am learning a lot about older adults and the aging process. It's interesting and relevant because we are all aging. Every single one of us.

Interestingly, after going a couple of years without being asked if I had kids, I am now asked again somewhat regularly. Also interestingly, it doesn't even bother me. 

I am usually asked by older adult patients. I think it's just a common question to ask in conversation. I also think the question is sparked by my caregiving in the moment. I love providing patient care. I follow the rules and make sure I do what I need to do for ethical reasons and for the purposes of health insurance reimbursement. But I always take at least a moment to really see the person. Look them in the eyes, ask how they are doing, and listen to whatever they need to share. So, I think I probably give off a pretty maternal vibe, which is why people ask. I've always said I was born to be a mom.

But I'm not a mom. Obviously.
And I'm learning to be okay with that. 

It's easier for me now that I know I'm not going to have children. For 32 years I assumed I would. For four more years, I tried doing so. And then I sort of realized it wasn't happening...

That feeling of being in limbo really, really sucked.

But I digress.

Ten years ago when I was asked if I had kids I would feel so sad because the answer was no.
Now when I am asked I just simply say no because I don't have kids. 

Now I know I'm not having kids. I've grown into that idea, and I've created a life I want to live. 

And it's funny to me that I'm usually asked if I have kids at least once a day at work by a patient.

 And it's amazing to me that I'm okay saying no.

One of Us: Phoenix Rising

I read the news yesterday and IMMEDIATELY texted my boyfriend.

"IVF failed for Jennifer Aniston. 1st time she's ever said it."

The news resonated across our CNBC community.
Pamela wrote about it here. Loribeth wrote about it here.

Jennifer Aniston, this woman that I've watched on tv and in movies for decades, owes us NOTHING. She didn't have to share her painful truth. She didn't have to tell us that IVF didn't work for her. She never had to address the topic ever in any way at all. But she did.

Thank you, Jenn. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

You added our story to the mainstream narrative of infertility:
our story that DOESN'T end with a baby.

My sisters read People magazine religiously. They may not feel my pain, but they will feel Jennifer Aniston's. This celebrity that I do not know gave me the gift of humanity. She validated our story.

"Phoenix Rising" indeed!!!

Progression and Aggravation

There have been so many moments lately where I've stopped and marveled at how far I've come.

1. A couple of Fridays ago as my co-worker was leaving work for the weekend, I said, "Enjoy your family!" Like, it just rolled off my tongue and that's what came out of my mouth. His family. The thing that I always wanted. He's married with 3 young kids and I genuinely wished him a great weekend with his family without a second thought. 
   
   
2. Recently at work, I've done several of pediatric patient evaluations with nearly the whole dang family present in the treatment room. But what's a stay-at-home parent supposed to do? One kid has an appointment, so all of the kids go. It made me laugh inside my head each time. There I am, in the treatment room with a parent, patient, and 2 - 3 siblings (so at least 3 young children at once). The parent is looking to me for help. The patient is looking at me wondering who I am. The siblings are intrigued by me and each one of them wants to tell/show me something. I'm fielding it all, giving everyone attention while conducting the evaluation, and thinking to myself, "Now who is the childless one here?" Hahaha. But it's all good. It makes me happy to help families. A clinical instructor told me one time that any time you help the family, you are also helping the patient.
   
   
3. The biggest marker of my healing happened just a week or two ago. One of my close friends from graduate school had her second baby. She texted me a pic of her and her newborn and... IT DIDN'T MAKE ME SAD. This is a Big Deal. I *hate* newborn-and-mom-in-the-hospital pics. I still do. Maybe I always will. But my friend texted me one of her and her baby (which was pretty uncharacteristic of her because she usually asks first before sending any pics but I didn't mind) and all I felt was happiness for her. The picture didn't bother me. It's a freaking miracle, reserved for only the most special people in my life.
   
   

So, I'm feeling pretty good, right? I'm working with kids, I'm helping families, and I'm genuinely supportive of my friends and co-workers, none of which causes me pain or drains my energy.

Well.

Then I attended a two-day virtual conference this past weekend. It was awesome and it was awful. The content was the awesome part. I learned so much. But, O. M. G., were the awful parts awful... I'll spare you every detail but the very mommy-centric vibe reared its ugly head early on and only grew over time. I actually left a couple of sessions early because the content wasn't worth sitting through the delivery.

Did you know that moms are the only busy people on the planet??

It was a lot of those kinds of judgments combined with the assumption that everyone has or will have children. I wondered how many people were viscerally turned off like I was. There were over 200 attendees. Mostly women. I couldn't be the only childless woman in attendance. 

Even my boyfriend noticed. As he came through the kitchen to occasionally snack, he could hear my conference in the living room and he commented on the amount of "mom comments" he heard. He said that doesn't happen in his experience with conferences. He thought it was weird. And annoying.

It was annoying, but it was also hurtful. Hearing one or two comments is one thing. To be expected. But hearing pronatalist comments all day and managing my energy with regard to them completely exhausted me. I got off my computer after the first day and just cried.

It helps that I like the life I've created for myself. That's how I get through the tough moments now. Living my life after infertility without my children is still hard sometimes, but I also wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's. I worked my ass off and I truly love where I am now (metaphorically but also geographically).

It's good I'm so secure with myself. (Hey, old self from my teens and twenties, it really does get better!!) It's good I'm so secure with who I am and the decisions I've made.

Because that's not all. There was one zinger of a moment during the 2nd day of the virtual conference that left me stunned. And angry. What I heard online at this conference was one of the most hurtful things I've ever heard regarding childlessness. (Prepare yourself.) The speaker referenced when she was younger in her career, childless, worked in pediatrics, and felt like she knew what she was doing. She said she was often asked if she had kids and she said she never understood the relevance of the question. (Do you see where this is going? Brace yourself...) But, now that she has kids, TA-DAA, she knows she didn't know what she was talking about before. 

!!!!!!!!!

The presenter implied (almost explicitly stated) that you can't know children until you have them!

I DISAGREE. 

And my short retort (that I shared only with my boyfriend, lol) went as follows: 

"Yeah lady, sure, whatever. Let me tell you, being childless at 25 is not the same thing as being childless in your 40s. Sure, I'm not a parent. But while you were "busy" with your own three kids the last several years, I have spent the last TWENTY-FIVE YEARS working with literally THOUSANDS of youth. You may be experienced with your children, but I am experienced with the wide range of the preK to young adult population as a whole."

Gahhh!!!

I logged off for that session, returned for the next one, and then I was done. I immediately fell asleep for two hours. I learned a ton due to a lot of other women's generosity with their knowledge, time, and sharing their experiences, but the mom-ness of the virtual conference Wore. Me. Out.

So that's where I am. Noticing how I've changed, noticing what still hurts. Proud of my progress in recovery from infertility. Still managing related emotions as they occur. The journey forward is full of progression and aggravation. 

And that's how healing goes. 💜

Annoyed At Work

Parents are on my damn nerves. All of them. Everywhere.

Nah, not really. Hahaha. Exaggerations like that are rarely helpful. 

Let me get specific: I am very annoyed with one co-worker's constant parent-related comments.

There. I said it.

(May this blog forever remain anonymous so that my mom, sisters, and random co-workers throughout the years never find it.)

But I get annoyed at all of the little comments that she says every day. Things like "I'm a mom and my kids will always come first" [when talking about work, which, of course they will but why tell *me* that?] and "Well I can't buy extra stuff because I have my own kids to buy for" [uh, okay, no one asked her to buy anything, I was just showing her some things I'd picked up at the store]. 

I know the comments have nothing to do with me and are all about her and where she is in her life right now but STILL...

In isolation, the individual comments are not that bad. But over time...
Apparently, they add up. Because I am Annoyed. 

I just want to complain. I am so over it. 

She was supposed to train me, but she wasn't very good at doing that. She is skilled though so I do have a lot to learn from her. She's quick to correct me on little (i.e., inconsequential, unnecessary) things but doesn't help me on big (e.g., organizational processes) things. Plus, after working there for less than a month, she told me to stop asking so many questions or I was going to burn her out. I thought that was weird.

So there are some work style differences there. That's to be expected. 

It's the Mommyness I don't like. The latest comment was "Well, I have to. Because of my kids." 

True statement. Could be said about a million different things. Could also come off sounding really judgmental if you are talking to a woman who does not have kids.

I've just had my fill lately. 

I replied in all seriousness, "Yeah, me too," out loud in the office and no one even noticed.

But it entertained me.

😂😂😂

Awkward Introduction

Yesterday I went to orientation for my new job. 

Different people from different departments came to tell us about different policies and procedures. The facilities person talked about safety. The payroll person talked about payroll. The benefits person talked about benefits. Etc. It was a little boring, but it was fine. The organization provided lunch. There weren't many of us new hires. All in all, it was pretty uneventful.

Until HR came to talk about HR stuff. 

The guy came in the room, sat down, and introduced himself by saying how many kids he had.

Oh.

That's what had been missing all day. I hadn't heard anyone talk about their children. How funny that it was a guy that was the one to do so. Anyway, so he went on about his kids, their ages, blah blah blah. It was easy to tune him out. 

Maybe I'm sounding callous, but he didn't say anything about himself. He only defined himself through his children. It's just a limited way of thinking. Ok, maybe I sound judgmental. I admittedly have very little patience when someone I just meet talks only about their children.

Then he turned to the rest of us. Asked us to introduce ourselves. But he didn't let us guide our own introductions. He asked us questions individually. He asked us if we had children. 

What in the world...

He got to the woman next to me and asked where she was from and what her job was going to be. He asked if she had any kids. She smiled, said yes, and listed off the ages of her sons.

Then he turned to me. The first thing he asked was, "Do you have any family?" I could have easily said that, yes, I moved here with my boyfriend and that we are very happy here. But I didn't want to give him that. So I just answered his question the best I knew how.

Him: "Do you have any family?"

Me: "Yes... I have parents."

(pause, a little awkward)

Me: "And sisters..."

(slightly longer pause,
a little more awkward)

Him: "Do you have any kids?"

Me: "No."

(much longer pause,
definitely
feeling
awkward)

I didn't say anything else. No explanation. No elaboration.

He didn't say anything either. He seemed uncomfortable. He moved on.

I thought about how far I'd come. I thought about how his questions would have made me sad in the past, how they would have made me mad just a year or two ago, and how I found them absurdly funny in the moment.

Hahahaha.

I am so thankful for my progress in recovery.
I am so dang thankful for my healing.

Happily Ever After

Two recent occurrences reminded me that my life is not an acceptable narrative to some people.

I wanted kids and I don't have them?
Well, it must be my fault. And I'll never be happy without them.

No and no. But I refuse to explain anything to satisfy someone's fleeting questions about my personal life and trauma. It took me years to get where I am today physically, emotionally, spiritually, socially, and geographically. Why should I and how could I possibly satiate their curiosity in five to ten minutes? Especially when my life doesn't have the "right" ending for them.

Instance #1

A co-worker questioned my decisions about adoption and foster care. Regardless of the fact that she barely knows me and knows nothing about my own experiences with adoption and foster care, she not only asked if I had thought about either but she also seemed to pass judgment on the fact that I had done neither. Gross. I just briefly said something along the lines of, "Adoption is a lot harder than people think and the primary goal of foster care is reunification of the biological family." 

"Yes, but, if you really wanted kids..." (Yes, she really said that.) 

I'm done with conversations like that, with people like that. I wasn't there to correct her. We weren't in an educational or therapeutic setting. We were at work where such personal discourse is neither appropriate or likely to be well received. "Yes, but..."

No.

Or rather, I think I gave a dead end, "Hmmm..." out loud.

Conversation over.

Instance #2

My mom asked me if I wanted a Halloween box this year. I'm so glad she asked. She likes to send holiday themed boxes throughout the year. Not to my sisters and me. But to my niece, nephew, and me. It always makes me a little sad because I know she would be sending them to my kids. I like the candy, but I don't know what to do with the little toys and holiday trinkets. 

This year she asked me if I'd like one or if she should give mine to the little girl down the street. I immediately texted back, "Give it to the little girl down the street! She will love it." I also said those boxes always make me a little sad so it's okay to always give them to the little girl down the street. I wasn't sure how my mom would react, but I wanted to be honest.

She wrote back, "I miss sending them to you! But I understand. Phoenix, we love you more than life. You aren't too old to adopt, especially a toddler or a preschooler."

😑

First of all, I think it's weird that she formally addressed me by name in a one-on-one text message. But secondly, I AM too old to adopt. That process takes a long time and, as we all know, it isn't guaranteed. However, thirdly, and most important to me, it is not the responsibility of a baby/toddler/preschooler to make me happy! Putting that expectation on a child is unfair, twisted, and cruel. And I feel like that's what people are saying when they say, "Just adopt/foster!" Adoption and foster care can be extremely wonderful, but they involve very complex issues involving many people's lives.

This is not up for discussion. Definitely not with co-workers. And apparently not with my mom. I'm tired of explaining it to people who don't listen. Why can't people accept my life as it is? I do.

I did not reply. I never brought it back up and neither did she.

Conversation over.

*****

That sucks. Five and a half years after ending fertility treatments and I still get questions and assumptions thrown my way. I understand I'm in a population that's misunderstood and not often talked about, but that doesn't mean it's my responsibility to educate everyone at every encounter. Especially if it's a waste of my time or leaves me feeling drained. 

Not everyone's story ends with motherhood.
But I know you all know that. 

I've been sharing my most private thoughts here for the past four years so I know you all know that I've been working hard, both through grief and also through moving, grad school, divorce, and starting a new career.

It annoys me when I feel like people question my life without children. It makes me mad when they assume that their idea for me to foster or adopt a child is easy, a solution, and something I haven't already put a great amount of time, thought, and research into. I don't like it when people don't let me have my ending to my own story. 

*****

I endured years of infertility. 

The adoption agency I decided on went bankrupt. 

I used to work for a foster care agency and have had extensive training on trauma-informed caregiving strategies. I would have needed an equally committed partner to engage in foster care. My ex-husband did not have that desire or skill set and that was okay and perfectly understandable to me. 

After wanting to be a mother for as long as I could remember, I realized I was not going to be raising children in this lifetime.

Since I didn't have the life I wanted, I decided to want the life I had.
I decided to create a life I wanted to live.

So after taking full advantage of what it had to offer (e.g., in-state tuition, opportunities for clinical rotations), I moved out of the city like I dreamed of doing. I embraced all of the changes, expected and unexpected, that came with that. And I graduated, passed the board exam, and now practice in my new profession. 

I love it. I spend my work days helping others. I live in a warm home with good food and a great boyfriend. And after a lifetime of searching, I finally found my medium as an artist: quilting. 

It may not look like what others expect for me, but I worked hard to create this life for myself.

I like my happily ever after. 

(Picture from The Paper Bag Princess, Story by Robert Munsch, Art by Michael Martchenko, 1980)

Skipped a Work Shower

Going back to teaching, I was surprised to not encounter anything pregnancy-related first semester. Schools always seem to be full of pregnant staff members and pregnant parents. But the majority of my co-workers are very young and not yet thinking about raising children at all.

I'm not going to lie: it has been refreshing. No questions, no comments, no stories dominating our thirty minute respite period, a.k.a. our lunch time. ;)

However, I came back to work from winter break to read a rather presumptive email. The director of my district's department emailed everyone informing us of a baby shower she was throwing for someone who works for the district. The director told us when it would be, where it would be, and what we all could bring (a small gift or $10 to contribute, she was bringing cake and snacks). The way she wrote it, attendance sounded mandatory. What the hell?? I do not go to baby showers. (Well, unless I'm throwing the shower haha.) I stressed about this email, what to do, and how to respond until I saw my department chair.

Thankfully, my department chair shot the idea down. I asked him about it and he immediately said, "Oh, I am not going to that." I said, "Really? What did you write back?" He said, "I didn't write anything. I'm just not going."

So I followed his lead. I didn't write back. I didn't go. Nothing was ever said and life went on.

I think I often feel like everything needs a reply. I learned an important lesson with this experience. I don't have to respond to everything. I can just let some things go.

Haven't Been Asked In A While

Okay, so I'm probably tempting fate with this post, but...

I haven't been asked anything kid-related in a while. I haven't heard "Do you have kids?" in... I don't remember how long. Even with going back to teaching, I haven't had any co-workers or even a single student ask, "Why don't you have any kids?" I was mentally prepared for it because kids will say anything. But it hasn't happened yet.

I remember going on vacation in Las Vegas many years ago and being asked multiple times a day by store employees, waitresses, and bartenders: "Do you have kids?" It was weird. And it bothered me. A lot. I mean, I was in Vegas of all places. Why was I receiving so many questions about whether or not I had children??

And now I live in a new place, a small town at that, and I have a new job and... crickets...
No one has asked anything.

Not that I'm complaining.

It just makes me think. Do I give off a different vibe now? Do I seem more comfortable in my own skin? Do I no longer project that something major is missing in my life?

I don't know the answer; I just think it's weird that when I finally reach the point where I can handle those types of questions I simply don't get them anymore. Has this happened to anyone else?

Of course, now that I'm posting this, I'm sure I'll get a question this week haha. If so, I'll report it in the comments. ;)

Sometimes Sad Happens

Sometimes I get sad. Like today. When an innocent comment was made to me by a co-worker.

I didn't realize it in the moment. I mean, I heard the comment and brushed it off. I've grown used to people taking their fertility for granted. But then the rest of my day very slowly spiraled down.

I've cried twice. I've been so sad. It's not just what I lost; it's what I never had. It's the lack of memories and the lack of experiences. Simple things that other people take for granted. Like buying new shoes for their kids.

I've spent the latter half of the day in a funk. I've been touchy and snappy. I tried analyzing the funk. I tried just observing it. Then I went back to analyzing it. Then I took a break.

And then it rose to the surface--when the day changed for me. I stayed late to get some help from a co-worker who didn't end up being able to help me. So it was a bit of wasted time after an already long day and, on top of it, I now realize that she is a Mommy, a woman who prattles on about her kids and all of the privileged problems that come with having children.

Okay.
Realized and noted.
This kind, wants-to-be-helpful woman is not who I need to spend any extra time with.

Good to know. I'm low on emotional resources, and it's okay that I got so sad today.
Sometimes it happens.