For a little while on Fourth of July, I was not childless

On Fourth of July, I was walking the dog down a nearby street when this boy came out just past where someone had chalked “party” on the pavement with an arrow. There was no party now, just this kid about 10 years old with nothing to do. I had seen him before, remembered an awkward conversation about his missing model plane. He’s a loner, geeky with thick black glasses, possibly autistic. He has two sisters who are busy with their own lives, but I’m pretty sure he’s the only boy on the block.

Without asking, he joined us for our walk down the paved street on our way to the wilderness trail beyond. His speech was slow, coming in spurts, worked around his crooked front teeth. “Going for a walk, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He dodged nervously as Annie darted over to sniff him. “She’s big.”

“She is. But she won’t hurt you.”

“Is she gonna have puppies?”

I stared at him. What? “No. She’s been spayed. She had an operation. And she’s too old now anyway.” Suddenly the whole idea of taking away a dog’s ability to reproduce seemed ludicrous. Why would we do that? But he didn’t ask. He just said, “Oh.”

Annie paused to sniff a grass area where all the neighborhood dogs stopped to relieve themselves. The boy paused, too, then went on with us. It was nice having him along. I had been feeling especially lonely, this being another holiday I was spending by myself, my family too far away and my friends too busy with the kids and grandkids.

“Is it just you and her?” the boy asked.

I swallowed. How did he know? “Yes.”

“Oh.” No judgments. No “where is your husband?” or “why don’t you have kids?” He’s alone, I’m alone, just fact. He reached out shyly to pet Annie’s thick yellow fur.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Gavin.”

“Nice name.”

We walked on, Annie stopping between houses to pee.

“I know where there’s a trail.”

“Oh. I do, too.”

“I’ll run up ahead and show you.” He took off, streaking toward the end of the street to where the wild berries and Scotch broom have grown so thick you have to look hard to find the path.

“Is this your trail?” he called.

“Yes, that's it.”

He hesitated. “I’m not allowed to go past the end of the street.”

And with that we said goodbye. I heard Gavin’s shoes slapping the pavement as he ran home while Annie and I went on along the trail marked with the footprints of deer, dogs and tennis shoes, feeling much less lonely.

My dear childless friends, there are children who would love to hang out with you if you let them. Don’t give up.

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The transfer of this blog to my new Wordpress site is coming along. If you’re reading this at childlessbymarriageblog.com, you might notice that all of the old posts back to 2007 are here now, along with the comments. The formatting is a little funky. I’ll have to work on that, but this new site is going to be great. Remember, I will be posting on both old and new during July and early August, but as of Aug. 26, new comments will only be posted on the new site, so please subscribe or click “follow” so you don’t miss a single post or comment. For those who have already signed up, thank you. Every one of you is precious to me.

Get Some Boxes--Childless by Marriage is Moving

Dear friends,

Next month, I will have been doing the Childless by Marriage blog for eight years. My first post was published on Aug. 27, 2007. Unbelievable. Eight years. Don’t panic. I have no intention of stopping. But I am working on moving the blog to a new site at Wordpress.com. The address will be http://www.childlessbymarriageblog.com. The new site will offer features I can’t get with a "blogspot" blog and increase our community of childless-by-marriage friends. I already have two other blogs at Wordpress, Unleashed in Oregon and Writer Aid. If all works smoothly, the previous posts and comments from this blog will be transferred to the new site. But I don’t want to take any chances, so until Aug. 26, 2015, I will publish the same posts at both sites.

I started the Childless by Marriage blog before I finished the Childless by Marriage book, which came out in 2012. To be honest, the blog has been more successful than the book. At the heart of it is your comments, so much heartfelt sharing of joys, sorrows, successes and mistakes. You offer comfort to me and to one another. This has become a conversation, not just me talking into cyberspace.

You have been with me through my own pain and loss, including the death of my husband from Alzheimer’s Disease in 2011. You have supported me as I adapt to my new status as a widow, a new age group, and a new life on my own without the usual kids and grandkids to support me.

Of course I want to sell my books and draw attention to my writing through my blogs and other activities. That’s why most of us start blogs in the first place, but you have become precious to me, and I’m happy to be here as your big sister or Aunt Sue to listen to what you need to say. Most of you comment as “Anonymous.” That’s fine. I’m glad I can provide a private space to say what we might not be able to say anywhere else. I feel like I know you anyway.

I’d like to make this blog more interactive, maybe add some guest posts, feature more of you in the main blog. I welcome your suggestions. Meanwhile, I’m here. I may be moving, but I’m taking you with me.

Hugs,

Sue

When hormones outtalk common sense

I've been thinking about Monday's "Bachelorette" TV show. Did you see it? Kaitlyn, the bachelorette, and Nick, one of her suitors, made out all over Dublin, even in a church. It was embarrassing to watch. I kept yelling at the screen, "Nick get your hands out of her dress!" but he didn't hear me. Then they went back to her hotel suite and had sex. We didn't see it, but we heard the sound effects, and it was all over the news on Tuesday. Shooting in Charleston, Kaitlyn does Nick. It could all have been staged, but clearly those two were in that zone where common sense goes out the window. I've been there. Have you?

In her voiceovers, Kaitlin kept saying that when she gets together with Nick, she forgets the cameras, the other guys and everything else. I know the feeling. Maybe you do, too. You have just discovered this person. Your hormones are going crazy. Suddenly nothing else matters. You will do or say anything to keep the relationship going. You'll move, you'll quit your job, you'll shut out the advice of everyone in your world, and you'll ignore that little voice in your head that says, "Hey, wait a minute."

Then the initial fire cools. You look around and think, wait, I don't want to change my whole life. I like my job. I like my home. He's not as cute as I thought he was. Suddenly he or she says, "About those babies . . . I'm not so sure." Now you're committed and in a jam.

That's where most of the folks here, including me, end up. I hear it over and over. Yesterday, an anonymous writer sent a four-part comment about her situation. She's 38, he's 40. She's sure he's the love of her life. She moved in with him a while ago. He was okay with baby thing before, but now he's saying he doesn't want to have a baby. She's freaking out, she's starting counseling, she's not sure if they can stay together. What do I think she should do?

I never know what to tell people in this situation. The old lady in me misses the days when people didn't jump into bed or move in together so quickly, when you had to commit to marriage before doing the horizontal polka. Or maybe people were just sneakier about it. We all do it. I slept with Fred early on and moved in with him before we got married. Luckily, I got a good man and I have no regrets, except for not having children, but it doesn't always work out that well. I could have skipped my whole first marriage if I had listened to the wiser woman in my head.

Don't ignore that little voice. It's like when I quit my excellent job and gave up my apartment in 1983 to sing with a band that had a contract to tour the U.S. All I ever wanted was to sing in a band, and here was my chance. We were going to be rich and famous. Our sponsors went bankrupt in two months. There I was with no home and no job. I moved back in with my parents and started over. Wiser members of the band had kept their jobs and had something to go back to, but me, I jumped headfirst.

It's the same with relationships. I know how it feels to be crazy in love. The rest of the world just disappears, but don't let it. Do whatever you can to get a clear head, whether it's prayer, a hiking trip, or a long talk with a friend. Listen to your loved ones, listen to that voice in your head. Don't burn any bridges until you're sure it's going to work because sometimes it's perfect, and sometimes it turns into a disaster.

Have you been in similar situations? Have you dumped everything for a man or woman and then regretted it? I would love to hear your comments.

12 Things Childless by Marriage People Don't Dare Say Out Loud

Political correctness touches all areas of life, including childlessness. Friends and relatives who know we’re touchy about not having kids may struggle to say the “right thing” or avoid the subject altogether. Some just say stupid things that make us want to strike them.“Guess you don’t like kids, huh?” “Lucky you, free to do whatever you want.” “You can always adopt.” “Dump the bum and marry someone else.” “You don’t know; you never had a baby.” Know what I mean?

But there are some things we childless folks also avoid saying, things that we think and feel but don’t dare say out loud because then it would look like we’re selfish, we don’t really want kids, or we’re just nasty, trivial people. Have you ever felt like saying any of these?

* I hate you for having children and grandchildren when I don’t get to have them.

* I hate my husband (wife) for not giving me kids.

* My body looks better than yours, ha ha.

* Thank God we didn’t pass on his nose or my butt.

* I'm glad I don't have to worry about having a child with a birth defect.

* I hate being around whiny kids.

* I have no idea how to take care of a baby.

* Thank God I didn’t have children with HIM.

* My mom had no life; I don't want that.

* I’m terrified of pregnancy and childbirth.

* Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have children.

* My God, that baby is ugly.

I’m sure I will think of more. Can you add some unexpressed thoughts of your own to the list? Please don't anyone take offense. We can be honest here, right? Has anyone not thought some of these things?