"Birthing is in every cell of you. You do not have to have a baby to experience the essence of you." Dr. Christiane Northrup, author of the fabulous Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom, said that on public TV last week. I was in a hotel room in Washington state, using the TV for background noise as I got dressed. Suddenly my ears perked up. What did she say? Hey. Northrup also stressed that the world needs its childless "aunties" for the all things they do.
Northrup, who is in her 50s, often talks about rebirthing and the opportunity women have after menopause to create themselves anew. For childless women, we find some peace because our body has ended the debate on whether or not we should have children. The issue is settled. Certainly it's that way for me. Oh, I still wish I had kids and grandkids. I still ache for the loss, but it's easier to accept because there's nothing I can do about it. I must live the life I have.
In some ways, not having children can be a blessing. Yesterday I came across a fabulous post called "Women's Energy Bodies--Phases and Life Cycles." In it, blogger "mommymystic" describes the phases of a woman's life from a yoga point of view. She includes motherhood but also discusses the role of the mature childfree woman. " . . . In many religous traditions, a woman's spiritual worth seems to be equated with motherhood. Those who put this forth seem to be forgetting that most of the better known mystics in all religious traditions, male or female, have not had families . . . "
Read the whole post and be inspired.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Is This Not Mothering?
I may not be an actual mother, but sometimes I get weary of mothering anyway. I take my husband, who has Alzheimer's Disease, to the doctor and find myself explaining where we're going and why and assuring him that the doctor will not hurt him. He will not give him any shots. As we walk, I hold his hand, not out of affection the way it used to be, but to keep him from getting lost or falling down. In the doctor's office, I speak for him because he's not good with words anymore. The doctor speaks mostly to me because my husband does not understand what he's saying. When it's over, I wait while he goes to the bathroom, then treat him to a hamburger. Is this not mothering?
Likewise, when I come home from a trip, I need to pick up my dog at the kennel. First, I wash her blankets and straighten out her bed. I make sure I have enough food and make an appointment with the vet for her shots. Then I go get her. She runs out of her cage, gives me a big wet kiss and jumps into the car. All the way home, she's trying to get my attention. Pet me, love me, entertain me. Is this not mothering?
***
I recently read about a new website for Jewish women who are childless. It's called Yerusha.com. Take a look. Even if you're not Jewish, you may find something helpful.
***
There's a great article, "Childless by (100% Regret-Free) Choice," by Nanette Varian on the MORE magazine site. Granted, we might argue that we're not childless by choice, but you'll still find a lot of interesting information about how our lives are different, about attitudes toward childless women, about books to read, and more.
Likewise, when I come home from a trip, I need to pick up my dog at the kennel. First, I wash her blankets and straighten out her bed. I make sure I have enough food and make an appointment with the vet for her shots. Then I go get her. She runs out of her cage, gives me a big wet kiss and jumps into the car. All the way home, she's trying to get my attention. Pet me, love me, entertain me. Is this not mothering?
***
I recently read about a new website for Jewish women who are childless. It's called Yerusha.com. Take a look. Even if you're not Jewish, you may find something helpful.
***
There's a great article, "Childless by (100% Regret-Free) Choice," by Nanette Varian on the MORE magazine site. Granted, we might argue that we're not childless by choice, but you'll still find a lot of interesting information about how our lives are different, about attitudes toward childless women, about books to read, and more.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Ladies Without Babies
Today, I just want to share this poem I found in my files. I wrote it when I was really having a hard time with the whole childless thing. I admit that some of this does not apply to ladies with dogs.
Ladies without babies
have kittens and puppies
and goldfish with names.
They treat them like dolls,
they pretend to play house,
but it certainly isn't the same.
Ladies without babies
have neat little houses
with reachable knick-knacks
and cream-colored carpets,
glass without noseprints,
low-hanging spice racks.
Ladies without babies
get nervous when mommies
bring fat drooling babies
to spread crumbs and dribble
on white satin sofas
and rip up their papers.
Ladies without babies
become doting aunties
to nephews and nieces
whose photos they flash
when ladies with babies
share latest releases.
Ladies without babies
have big empty laps,
breasts never needed to nurse.
Like girls in a play
with a family of dolls,
their wombs can only rehearse.
Copyright 2010 Sue Fagalde Lick
Ladies without babies
have kittens and puppies
and goldfish with names.
They treat them like dolls,
they pretend to play house,
but it certainly isn't the same.
Ladies without babies
have neat little houses
with reachable knick-knacks
and cream-colored carpets,
glass without noseprints,
low-hanging spice racks.
Ladies without babies
get nervous when mommies
bring fat drooling babies
to spread crumbs and dribble
on white satin sofas
and rip up their papers.
Ladies without babies
become doting aunties
to nephews and nieces
whose photos they flash
when ladies with babies
share latest releases.
Ladies without babies
have big empty laps,
breasts never needed to nurse.
Like girls in a play
with a family of dolls,
their wombs can only rehearse.
Copyright 2010 Sue Fagalde Lick
Monday, September 13, 2010
Mommy Training
The little blonde girl wandered around the auditorium at the monthly Fiddlers Jamboree clutching her little blonde doll. Now and then the girl talked to the doll and stroked its plastic hair. When the fiddle music got lively, she danced with her, looking back to make sure her mother was watching.
Across the room, a plain-looking woman with thick glasses and scraggly brown hair displayed a real baby as if it were a trophy. She showed that newborn to everyone. Look, see what I have. Suddenly this mousy woman had a claim to greatness: she had borne this baby. It was a very new baby, its navel still not healed, its head a soft formless bobble buried in blankets. She held it very carefully and proudly.
Meanwhile, I cradled my guitar and watched a tall blond in tight black jeans, a striped tank top and a cowboy hat serve cake to her fat daugh5ter whose buck teeth matched her mom's. The mother had the MC proclaim that it was Shannon's eighth birthday. After feeding her a giant portion of chocolate-frosted birthday cake, she hauled the kid on stage with her violin to squeak out a horrendous rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and an even worse "Red River Valley."
The mother stood by, smiling, sure that her fiddle-playing friends were impressed by her little prodigy. The woman overseeing the show held her hand over her mouth the whole time. I couldn't tell whether she was laughing or horrified.
Just when I couldn't stand much more of this mother-and-child adoration, I noticed the first little girl had dropped her doll on the ground and gone in search of other amusement. In fact, I almost stepped on the doll.
The toddler is a mommy in training—as I was once. I learned my lessons well, but I was trained to be something I didn't become. I sat in that sweltering auditorium, nervously awaiting my turn on stage and felt like a girl who had gone to a party and forgotten to bring her dolly. What did I have to show off? Just a nicked-up guitar and a couple of country songs.
This is an excerpt from my Childless by Marriage Book. Have you had moments when you felt so totally left out because you didn't have children?
Copyright 2010 Sue Fagalde Lick
Across the room, a plain-looking woman with thick glasses and scraggly brown hair displayed a real baby as if it were a trophy. She showed that newborn to everyone. Look, see what I have. Suddenly this mousy woman had a claim to greatness: she had borne this baby. It was a very new baby, its navel still not healed, its head a soft formless bobble buried in blankets. She held it very carefully and proudly.
Meanwhile, I cradled my guitar and watched a tall blond in tight black jeans, a striped tank top and a cowboy hat serve cake to her fat daugh5ter whose buck teeth matched her mom's. The mother had the MC proclaim that it was Shannon's eighth birthday. After feeding her a giant portion of chocolate-frosted birthday cake, she hauled the kid on stage with her violin to squeak out a horrendous rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and an even worse "Red River Valley."
The mother stood by, smiling, sure that her fiddle-playing friends were impressed by her little prodigy. The woman overseeing the show held her hand over her mouth the whole time. I couldn't tell whether she was laughing or horrified.
Just when I couldn't stand much more of this mother-and-child adoration, I noticed the first little girl had dropped her doll on the ground and gone in search of other amusement. In fact, I almost stepped on the doll.
The toddler is a mommy in training—as I was once. I learned my lessons well, but I was trained to be something I didn't become. I sat in that sweltering auditorium, nervously awaiting my turn on stage and felt like a girl who had gone to a party and forgotten to bring her dolly. What did I have to show off? Just a nicked-up guitar and a couple of country songs.
This is an excerpt from my Childless by Marriage Book. Have you had moments when you felt so totally left out because you didn't have children?
Copyright 2010 Sue Fagalde Lick
Monday, September 6, 2010
What is the purpose of marriage?
I recently read a blog post that maintained that couples should divorce if they aren't going to have children--because marriage is all about procreation. Is it? Another post noted that on the Maslow list of basic human needs, finding a mate and parenting are right at the top with food and shelter. However, one could meet the parenting needs with children other than their own. What do you think?
Certainly, many religions believe that married couples are supposed to have children. I'm Catholic, and the vows clearly state that couples will gladly accept children and raise them in the Catholic faith. In fact, I got my first marriage annulled through the church on the grounds that my husband refused to have children. There's no question about what our church preaches. In fact, at a women's potluck dinner last week, I was clearly reminded of that fact as I sat like a rock in a river listening to women all around me talk about their children and grandchildren.
But what is the purpose of marriage? When I married Fred, children weren't foremost in our minds, especially after he told me he didn't want any more kids. He had three from his first marriage. This marriage was for love, companionship, sex, taking care of each other. We simply wanted to be together. Isn't that a good enough reason to be married? It occurs to me that Fred had already done the procreation part of life with his first wife. Now, it would seem I had missed my chance. I was supposed to make babies with Jim and I didn't. But at least I wasn't alone.
What do you think about all this? I welcome your comments.
Certainly, many religions believe that married couples are supposed to have children. I'm Catholic, and the vows clearly state that couples will gladly accept children and raise them in the Catholic faith. In fact, I got my first marriage annulled through the church on the grounds that my husband refused to have children. There's no question about what our church preaches. In fact, at a women's potluck dinner last week, I was clearly reminded of that fact as I sat like a rock in a river listening to women all around me talk about their children and grandchildren.
But what is the purpose of marriage? When I married Fred, children weren't foremost in our minds, especially after he told me he didn't want any more kids. He had three from his first marriage. This marriage was for love, companionship, sex, taking care of each other. We simply wanted to be together. Isn't that a good enough reason to be married? It occurs to me that Fred had already done the procreation part of life with his first wife. Now, it would seem I had missed my chance. I was supposed to make babies with Jim and I didn't. But at least I wasn't alone.
What do you think about all this? I welcome your comments.
Monday, August 30, 2010
In some ways, we're all mothers
I stop at a grocery store in Yreka, California to buy something for breakfast. At the cash register, the young man ahead of me gasps in relief as he dumps an armload of cantaloupes onto the conveyor belt. The cashier quickly rings them up. $10.70. "Dang," he says. He only has a wrinkled ten-dollar bill. In the pregnant pause, I whip a dollar bill out of my wallet. "Here," I say. The checker takes it, gives me 30 cents change. The kid mumbles "thanks" and moves on. The checker also says, "Thanks." I feel like a mom, quickly seeing the problem and jumping in to help. Who's to know I'm not a mother, that my kids don't go to school with this kid? I walk out feeling happy.
***
Speaking of kids with problems, I just finished reading Debra Gwartney's Live Through This. It's the painful story of how her two oldest daughters became more and more out of control. Drugs, suicide attempts and nights when they didn't come home led to their running way and living on the streets for long periods of time while their mom went crazy trying to find them, hoping they weren't dead. I would hope that any of us, mothers or not, would do what we can to help any kid in trouble. As women, I think we're all mothers at large. When we can, we should help, whether it's a runaway who needs something to eat or a teenager who's short 70 cents at the grocery store.
Can you think of times you have acted as a mother for someone else's child?
***
Speaking of kids with problems, I just finished reading Debra Gwartney's Live Through This. It's the painful story of how her two oldest daughters became more and more out of control. Drugs, suicide attempts and nights when they didn't come home led to their running way and living on the streets for long periods of time while their mom went crazy trying to find them, hoping they weren't dead. I would hope that any of us, mothers or not, would do what we can to help any kid in trouble. As women, I think we're all mothers at large. When we can, we should help, whether it's a runaway who needs something to eat or a teenager who's short 70 cents at the grocery store.
Can you think of times you have acted as a mother for someone else's child?
Monday, August 23, 2010
We have our own saint
Did you know the Catholics have a patron saint for those who are childless? I stumbled upon it the other day. She's Saint Anne, mother of Mary, grandmother of Jesus. Not much is known about her, but it appears she did not conceive until late in life and Mary was her only child. She's not quite the saint for those of us who are not infertile, just childless by marriage or circumstance, but she's as close as we come. You can read about her at http://www.praying4ababy.com/stanne.html
Is there someone you admire who really exemplifies our situation and might be our own unofficial saint?
***
I took another run through my Childless by Marriage book, tweaking it here and there over the weekend. Now I think it's really ready to blast into the world. Stay tuned.
***
For those who noticed steam coming out of their computer in my recent exchange with my stepdaughter, we have reached a delicate peace agreement offline.
Is there someone you admire who really exemplifies our situation and might be our own unofficial saint?
***
I took another run through my Childless by Marriage book, tweaking it here and there over the weekend. Now I think it's really ready to blast into the world. Stay tuned.
***
For those who noticed steam coming out of their computer in my recent exchange with my stepdaughter, we have reached a delicate peace agreement offline.
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