Apparently I'm a wanna-be "breeder troll," at least according to the Selfish Heathens site, which is firmly devoted to nonparenting. In fact, parents aka breeder trolls are strongly urged to stay away. If they even lurk at the site, they will be summarily deleted. The Satanic imagery and strong language scare the heck out of a mommy-lookalike such as myself.
I learned about the Selfish Heathens from a blog entry by Canadian Writer Jonathan Kay who started a flame war with his piece about bringing children to restaurants. One commenter threatened to throw ice water into the faces of Kay and his "broodsow" if they ever met in a restaurant. Luckily they will probably never meet in person.
I often hear mothers referred to as breeders, as if they were cats who went into heat and turned out one litter after another with no regard to overpopulation or to the way their kids are annoying little brats. But then again, others talk about children being the biggest blessing of their lives, that raising them is the most important thing one can do, far more important than any other occupation. Many who can't conceive spend thousands of dollars on painful medical procedures trying to unite one egg and sperm successfully into a baby. When the effort fails, they come away heartbroken.
Why is there such an undercurrent of anger between parents and nonparents? Must we split into separate societies, those with children and those without? Why can't we just accept each other's choices and move on?
For a view completely opposite to the Selfish Heathens, but just as hip, check out Tiffany Lee Brown's new blog, http://magdalen.blogs.com/nymphe. She includes some wonderful articles, a fascinating performance art project in progress, and heartfelt journal entries about her struggle with her husband's preference to not have children and her own late-arriving desire to be a mother.
What do you think? Why is there so much animosity on this issue?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com.
All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it
would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Friday, December 14, 2007
What's wrong with wanting a baby?
My Google alerts (great service!) brought to my attention a scathing review of Madelyn Cain's The Childless Revolution. Jessa Crispin writes on her Bookslut page that "those who choose motherhood and those who choose childlessness are on opposite sides. Once you've chosen, you're alien to the other group."
Well, I have noticed a divide between the "childfree" and the "breeders," but can't we reach across and find a peaceful way to relate? A lot of us who don't have children wish we did, and some of those who have kids wish they didn't.
In her review, Crispin begins by telling us Cain isn't qualified to write about childlessness because she had a child when she was almost 40. The fact that she had trouble conceiving for all the years before that doesn't count. And the fact that she had an intense desire to be a mother puts her on the "other" side, the breeder side. Do you agree?
Crispin goes so far as to note how many pages Cain devotes to each of her three sections, the childless by choice, by chance and by happenstance. The childless by chance get the short end, she says. "This isn't really a book about being childless. This is a book about women who wanted children but didn't get them."
She also also complains that Cain's book is poorly written and that it has too many personal observations. I disagree. The issue of having children or not having them is personal.
All this makes me sigh. I hate to see women dividing into enemy camps. Also, I happen to think the Childless Revolution is fine book. See my review on the Childless Resources page on my suelick.com website.
What do you think? Can a mother write about childlessness? Are mothers and nonmothers so different they have to live in separate worlds? Have you read Cain's book? What do you think?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Well, I have noticed a divide between the "childfree" and the "breeders," but can't we reach across and find a peaceful way to relate? A lot of us who don't have children wish we did, and some of those who have kids wish they didn't.
In her review, Crispin begins by telling us Cain isn't qualified to write about childlessness because she had a child when she was almost 40. The fact that she had trouble conceiving for all the years before that doesn't count. And the fact that she had an intense desire to be a mother puts her on the "other" side, the breeder side. Do you agree?
Crispin goes so far as to note how many pages Cain devotes to each of her three sections, the childless by choice, by chance and by happenstance. The childless by chance get the short end, she says. "This isn't really a book about being childless. This is a book about women who wanted children but didn't get them."
She also also complains that Cain's book is poorly written and that it has too many personal observations. I disagree. The issue of having children or not having them is personal.
All this makes me sigh. I hate to see women dividing into enemy camps. Also, I happen to think the Childless Revolution is fine book. See my review on the Childless Resources page on my suelick.com website.
What do you think? Can a mother write about childlessness? Are mothers and nonmothers so different they have to live in separate worlds? Have you read Cain's book? What do you think?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Where's the Nursery?
"Dream House," the slender file was labeled. I remembered it well, a 1968 home economics assignment filed away in a cabinet covered with bumper stickers for PBS, ecology groups, and local newspapers.
It was a great house, done up in bright red, green and yellow. I had an office, a darkroom, a craft room and a gallery, lots of bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, and bedroom, everything except a nursery. At 16, it never occurred to me to allot space for children. My home was a glorified office complex with living quarters attached.
The rest of the folder includes plans for a build-it-yourself desk and craft ideas for the kitchen and den. No nurseries or bunk beds.
Why didn't I think about a place for children? I couldn't have known that 35 years later I'd enter menopause without giving birth, that the equipment that caused me killer cramps every 28 days would never serve any purpose, that I would be married twice to men who wouldn't or couldn't have kids, that my only mothering experiences would be dog-mothering or step-mothering. I couldn't possible have known all that. I was not one of those teens who decide early that she doesn't even want to have children. And, although I claim a bit of ESP, I don't think that was involved here.
Perhaps I was just innocent. There's no space for a husband in that house either. A late bloomer, I didn't start dating until I was in college. By the time a man showed up at the door to take me on a date, my parents were so relieved they didn't even consider imposing a curfew or giving him the third degree. But I daydreamed like every other teen of boys and men falling in love with me, wanting to marry me. Did I not realize that relationships with men usually led to children, or at least they did back in the '60s? Love, marriage, baby carriage. I didn't know much about sex, but I think I knew that much.
So why at 16 didn't I leave space in my dream house for children? Why did I just seek work space?
I was a kid who "mothered" baby dolls, toddler dolls, Barbie dolls, stuffed animal dolls, enough dolls to cover my entire double bed. I gave them all names, carried them around with me, made them clothes, talked to them all the time, and grieved when they got torn or bent. I called myself their Mommy.
At the same time, I was in full wife and mother training. I learned how to cook and sew and clean. Mom had me washing, drying and ironing clothes by the hamper-full. By the time I was 10, I could copy her famous chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. By 15, I could prepare a full dinner. I could also knit, crochet, embroider and sew. Whatever other career I might pursue, my main life's work would be the same as my mother's: caring for a husband, home and children.
So why didn't I put a nursery in my dream house?
Had I already decided that since I had had no dates at 16, nobody would ever ask me out, so I might as well plan life as a creative spinster? I don't think so. As a 30-year-old divorcee whose life was all about work, I thought that, but not when I was in high school. I had crushes on several boys and at least one teacher, and I was berserk over Paul McCartney. But a nursery? Babies? I wasn't thinking about that. Do most 16-year-olds think about babies in that window between playing with dolls and real-life pregnancy? Maybe that's why so many teens get pregnant by accident. They don't see it as something that might really happen to them.
I have always wanted a terrific office. Nurseries are pretty and soft and warm and smell of baby powder, but I have never seen myself belonging in one. I wanted to fit in; babies are God's most amazing creation, but maybe I always knew he had another plan for me, a plan that required an office.
They say that the way you envision your life is the way it will turn out. If I had drawn a nursery into my dream house, would I be a mother and grandmother now? I'll never know because it never occurred to me at 16.
Just as most of my classmates never thought about including an office in their dream houses. What for?
Perhaps this pencil diagram in an old folder in an old file cabinet contains the key to why I never became a mother. I could blame husband number one for not wanting them or husband number two for not wanting any more than the ones he already had. I could attribute my childless state to persistent use of birth control. But the truth, somehow, is that I always wanted an office, not a nursery. And that's what I got.
As always, your comments are welcome.
Sue
Copyright 2007 Sue Fagalde Lick
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
It was a great house, done up in bright red, green and yellow. I had an office, a darkroom, a craft room and a gallery, lots of bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, and bedroom, everything except a nursery. At 16, it never occurred to me to allot space for children. My home was a glorified office complex with living quarters attached.
The rest of the folder includes plans for a build-it-yourself desk and craft ideas for the kitchen and den. No nurseries or bunk beds.
Why didn't I think about a place for children? I couldn't have known that 35 years later I'd enter menopause without giving birth, that the equipment that caused me killer cramps every 28 days would never serve any purpose, that I would be married twice to men who wouldn't or couldn't have kids, that my only mothering experiences would be dog-mothering or step-mothering. I couldn't possible have known all that. I was not one of those teens who decide early that she doesn't even want to have children. And, although I claim a bit of ESP, I don't think that was involved here.
Perhaps I was just innocent. There's no space for a husband in that house either. A late bloomer, I didn't start dating until I was in college. By the time a man showed up at the door to take me on a date, my parents were so relieved they didn't even consider imposing a curfew or giving him the third degree. But I daydreamed like every other teen of boys and men falling in love with me, wanting to marry me. Did I not realize that relationships with men usually led to children, or at least they did back in the '60s? Love, marriage, baby carriage. I didn't know much about sex, but I think I knew that much.
So why at 16 didn't I leave space in my dream house for children? Why did I just seek work space?
I was a kid who "mothered" baby dolls, toddler dolls, Barbie dolls, stuffed animal dolls, enough dolls to cover my entire double bed. I gave them all names, carried them around with me, made them clothes, talked to them all the time, and grieved when they got torn or bent. I called myself their Mommy.
At the same time, I was in full wife and mother training. I learned how to cook and sew and clean. Mom had me washing, drying and ironing clothes by the hamper-full. By the time I was 10, I could copy her famous chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. By 15, I could prepare a full dinner. I could also knit, crochet, embroider and sew. Whatever other career I might pursue, my main life's work would be the same as my mother's: caring for a husband, home and children.
So why didn't I put a nursery in my dream house?
Had I already decided that since I had had no dates at 16, nobody would ever ask me out, so I might as well plan life as a creative spinster? I don't think so. As a 30-year-old divorcee whose life was all about work, I thought that, but not when I was in high school. I had crushes on several boys and at least one teacher, and I was berserk over Paul McCartney. But a nursery? Babies? I wasn't thinking about that. Do most 16-year-olds think about babies in that window between playing with dolls and real-life pregnancy? Maybe that's why so many teens get pregnant by accident. They don't see it as something that might really happen to them.
I have always wanted a terrific office. Nurseries are pretty and soft and warm and smell of baby powder, but I have never seen myself belonging in one. I wanted to fit in; babies are God's most amazing creation, but maybe I always knew he had another plan for me, a plan that required an office.
They say that the way you envision your life is the way it will turn out. If I had drawn a nursery into my dream house, would I be a mother and grandmother now? I'll never know because it never occurred to me at 16.
Just as most of my classmates never thought about including an office in their dream houses. What for?
Perhaps this pencil diagram in an old folder in an old file cabinet contains the key to why I never became a mother. I could blame husband number one for not wanting them or husband number two for not wanting any more than the ones he already had. I could attribute my childless state to persistent use of birth control. But the truth, somehow, is that I always wanted an office, not a nursery. And that's what I got.
As always, your comments are welcome.
Sue
Copyright 2007 Sue Fagalde Lick
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
How do you answer THE QUESTION
When people ask why you don't have children, what do you say? My favorite answer so far is "because I've seen yours." Another good one is, "No, would you like to give me yours?" But really, a lot parents start their conversations with "Do you have children?" And when you say "no," they want to know why. Depending on my mood, I just say, "No I don't. God had other plans," or I explain that I have three stepchildren but no kids of my own. Several of my friends just say they have dogs.
Do people ask you? What do you say?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Do people ask you? What do you say?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Are you grieving over your lack of children?
As many of us know, not having children can be painful. A terrific article in today's Contra Costa Times talks about this and describes some of the agencies that are helping childless women deal with their grief through therapy. The piece, called "Childless by Fate, Choice," was written by Jessica Yadegaran. It includes a forum to answer the question "Have you come to terms with not having children?" I would love to have people answer that question here, too.
I'm currently working on the chapter about grief in my Childless by Marriage book, and it is interesting how one's feelings change over time. It's also hard not to project my feelings onto other people.
So how do you feel about it? Do you regret your choice? Are you still trying to decide what to do? What advice would you give someone like the 35-year-old woman I interviewed this weekend who is dating a man who doesn't want any more children?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
I'm currently working on the chapter about grief in my Childless by Marriage book, and it is interesting how one's feelings change over time. It's also hard not to project my feelings onto other people.
So how do you feel about it? Do you regret your choice? Are you still trying to decide what to do? What advice would you give someone like the 35-year-old woman I interviewed this weekend who is dating a man who doesn't want any more children?
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Sadie's gone
This has to be short or I'll start crying. We had to put our dog to sleep yesterday. Sadie's cancer came out of remission and had reached the point where she was fighting to breathe. It was time to end the suffering. The actual dying was easy, thanks to a kind vet with wonderful shots that gave her her first restful sleep in months. It's a cliche, but she looked so peaceful. The hard part is facing the empty house. I keep thinking I hear her, that I will see her around the corner, that I need to open the door for her. Last night as I started gathering her food, her pills, and her blankets, I realized this has to be what it's like when you lose a child, your only child. Suddenly you don't need all these things, and the center of your existence is gone. Are you still a mother anyway? Am I still a dog mom?
Now all I have to hug is a stuffed bear and a husband who can't stop crying. It's time to share my mothering energy with him. While Sadie was sick, I'm afraid I put her first every time, just as I'm sure I would have done with a child.
We will get another dog eventually, but she--or he--won't be Sadie.
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Now all I have to hug is a stuffed bear and a husband who can't stop crying. It's time to share my mothering energy with him. While Sadie was sick, I'm afraid I put her first every time, just as I'm sure I would have done with a child.
We will get another dog eventually, but she--or he--won't be Sadie.
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
Monday, October 29, 2007
These Dolls are Too Much Work!
In the toy department at Fred Meyer's last week, I watched as a mother dragged her daughter over to the doll department and asked her to choose which color stroller she wanted. The girl, maybe 7 years old, wearily said she'd take the purple one.
I have been researching dolls for my book on childless women. I knew what we had when I was a child, but not what kids are playing with now. Only a childless woman with no little kids in her life would have to rely on Google and trips to Wal-Mart and Freddies to find out what dolls are hot now. I felt like a spy, whispering into my little voice recorder as I roamed the aisles. Keep in mind I live in a small town. We don't have a Toys R Us.
Thank God there are still plenty of baby dolls, but some of them do so much I can see how they'd wear a little girl out. The first ones I saw, on the end display, actually defecate. Seriously. They come with fake food, fake poop and fake diapers, which I suppose one has to replenish on a regular basis. Who decided that was fun?
Other dolls drink and wet, just like good old Betsy Wetsy of the 50s. Water goes in one hole and out the other. The baby dolls close their eyes when they lie down and open them when tilted upward. Some are programmed to randomly wake up giggling or crying. Some say a few words. They come with lots of accessories, including diapering supplies, bottles and food, play pens, car carriers, strollers, and sleeping bags. You'd need a station wagon to carry all their stuff around.
However, these dolls are awfully cute and lifelike. In addition to pressing all the "try me" buttons, I wanted to scoop one out and hug it. I guess that's why I still have my Chatty Cathy doll, pictured above. She speaks as if she's had a stroke now, but I still enjoy her company.
There are plenty of older dolls these days, referred to as "fashion dolls." These include the Bratz line that has been demeaned for teaching shallow values. I don't know; I think they're cute, although their huge painted-on eyes are kind of strange. We also have lots of Dora dolls. And Barbie's still around, slightly more realistic-looking than she was in the '60s.
Most girls enjoy dressing their dolls and pretending to send them to school or parties or into glamorous careers. Kids get to practice for real life. I don't see a problem with that, although many of the childless women I have interviewed claimed they never liked to play with dolls. Foreshadowing their future?
It's encouraging that today's dolls come in multiple ethnicities. On the other hand, it worries me that so many of them come with names, prefab dialogue and written histories. I think one of the best parts of play is using one's imagination. Let the little girls name their own dolls and make up their own stories. That's part of the fun, having those conversations that start, "Let's say we're going to the store and . . . "
In addition to the many dolls, Wal-Mart and Freddies offered lots of stuffed animals, including a parrot that never shut up, and a dog that supposedly lifted its leg and peed if you pushed the right button. Again, like the defecating doll, a little too real.
I'm happy to report that there are still plenty of dolls, and they're not going to corrupt our society's children.
As a woman who never finished growing up, I kind of want one. Is that why we get pets? An adult woman doesn't look half as crazy cuddling a terrier as she does holding a Little Mommy doll—unless of course she can find an actual little girl to play with.
Copyright 2007 Sue Fagalde Lick
IMPORTANT NOTICE: This blog has moved. Please switch over to the new site at http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. All of the old posts have already been transferred over there, and it would make life easier if you would comment at that site. Thank you.
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