Old photos show the family life I could have had

Back in the 80s being “Grandma Sue” with Stephanie while baby Brandon snoozes. What are we looking at? I don’t remember.

You know how you move one thing in the house and then you have to move something else to make room for it, and pretty soon you have all this stuff that needs a new home and then you sit down in the middle of the mess to sort through old photos? Yeah. That’s what I was doing last night.  

I’m trying to thin out my possessions, so there was a point in sorting through packets of photos from the 70, 80s, and 90s that I never put into albums. They were all pre-digital, taken with cameras that used film.

I was rearranging my stuff because I didn’t feel like writing. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I got some bad news from the vet the other day about Annie–that bump on her butt isn’t just a bump. It’s cancer, and there’s a problem with her heart, too.

We don’t have a lot of details yet, but I have been in near-constant caregiver mode with this dog since she almost died right after Christmas 2020, and now it’s getting bad again. As she wanders around with the big e-collar, running into everything and leaving blood wherever she sits, she interrupts my sleep, my meals, and my work. Crash, boom, Mom! Oh, wait, I’m not her mom, but I do call myself that. Don’t tell anyone. So, there’s that, and I’ve had a cold, and the weather here has been one disaster after another. We have had floods, snow, landslides, hurricane-force winds, and now there’s another flood watch. I’m ready to get in my car and drive to Arizona. 

Back to the old photos. I found quite a few that I could throw away, bland scenery shots, an endless stream of ocean photos, flowers, somebody’s cat. When I took them, I thought they were artistic, but the ones I want to keep are the ones with people in them, especially family. I had a family once upon a time. I had my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, my brother and his wife and kids, and my husband, his parents, his kids and his grandkids. For a while, they were my kids and grandkids, too. The difference between me and friends my age is that their family photos go on as the babies keep coming while mine stopped around the time I switched to digital photos.

What happened? People died, lots of people died. But also, we moved to Oregon, 700 miles away from all but one of Fred’s kids. Plus, my sweet husband put out zero effort to keep in touch. It was always me saying, “Hey, it’s Michael’s birthday. We should call him.” or “Hey, what shall we get the grandkids for Christmas?” Beyond things like gifts and cards, I didn’t know how to go about getting close to the step-family. But I look at these photos of these gorgeous human beings and I remember days when I thanked Fred for giving me a family. If we hadn’t moved to Oregon, if we had tried harder, would they still be in my life now that he is gone? Maybe. Maybe not. I feel like I flunked step-parenting.

When you have your own children, the connection is made by biology. Even if you don’t get along, they are always your children. As the older generation passes on to the next life, there’s another group of young people coming up to fill the hole they leave behind. A person my age shouldn’t be sitting on the hearth looking at old pictures with no one for company but a deaf dog with a cone on her head.

Did I make two huge mistakes in my life, committing to a life without children of my own and moving away from the family I had, or is this the way it was meant to be? Life in Oregon has been good. I have had experiences and made friends I wouldn’t have had if we had stayed in San Jose doing the same things forever. We make choices, and then we have to live with them.

I had fun looking at the pictures. I see in the old ones that I was pretty in my 20s, 30s and even 40s–and a lot skinnier. I need to go on a diet! But I’m glad I have these photos, every one of them attached to a memory, a time I enjoyed with our combined families. It just ended too soon.

Working as a reporter at the Milpitas Post in California in the 1970s

What will happen to these pictures when I die? They’ll probably end up in a dumpster, but I have them to enjoy now, and that matters. 

You know that old Crosby, Stills & Nash song “Love the One You’re With?” Maybe that’s the key. Whatever family you have around, in-laws, stepchildren, nieces and nephews, cousins, friends, whatever, treasure them. Love them. They will not be perfect. But they’re yours, at least for now. As you go into a new year, think about what you always wanted to be when you grew up. Was it a mom or dad or was that just an assumed detour from what you really wanted? What photos do you want to be looking at when you’re looking 70 in the face like me?

BTW, I love this photo of me at one of my first newspaper jobs. I was HAPPY. Perhaps that was a clue to where I was headed all along. I loved mothering my dolls when I was a kid, but my Barbie was always going to be a writer or a singer. I never considered making her a mom. Go figure.  

Happy New Year. Forgive me for being a little nuts. As always, your comments are welcome.  

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Will You Regret Not Having Children?

A word that keeps coming up here at the Childless by Marriage blog is “regret.” Different dictionaries explain it in different words, but regret is basically a feeling of sorrow or disappointment for things you did in the past, decisions you made, or roads not taken. Readers trying to decide what to do about their situation worry about whether they will regret their choices later. If they agree not to have children, will they regret it? If they have children when they don’t want them, will they regret it? If they leave their partner in the hope of finding someone who wants children, will they regret it? If I knew the answers to these questions, I’d be a fortuneteller instead of a writer.

Regret. Suddenly I’m hearing Frank Sinatra sing, “Regrets I’ve had a few, but then again too few to mention . . . I did it my way.”

Well, I guess I did. Maybe you did, too. Are there choices in my life I regret? You bet. Jobs I wish I hadn’t taken, things I wish I hadn’t said, guys I wish I hadn’t dated. But I don’t regret the big choices I made, even my first marriage, which wasn’t ideal. I loved the man, we had some wonderful experiences, and I cherish the good memories. If I had waited for somebody else, I might have a husband, kids, grandkids, and the perfect house now, but I don’t know that that would have happened. I might have been alone.

I don’t regret marrying Fred, even though we didn’t have children together. He was the nicest person I ever met, he loved me like every girl wants to be loved, and we had a great life together. In death, he left me with a home and steady income. I wish I had some kids, but I had a lot of other things, including my husband’s children.

The other big decision was moving to Oregon. I have been homesick for 19 years, but living here has given me so many opportunities that I wouldn’t have gotten if we had stayed in San Jose. Would I trade the books I’ve been written, the music I’ve played here, the friends I’ve met, or my life in the woods for a more conventional life in smoggy suburbia with husband and kids? I’m not sure I would.

Every decision brings both good and bad. In the end, I believe things turn out the way they’re supposed to, whether it’s God’s plan, the way of the Universe, or whatever you want to call it. With every choice, you gain something, but you also have to let something go.

You’re 20 or 30 or 40 now. When you’re 80, will you regret not having children? Will you wish with every fiber of your being that you had made a different choice? I don’t know. All you can do is make a decision based on what you know now and follow where it leads.

Here are a few things you can read. This article from Psychology Today, “Getting Past Your Regrets,” offers some very good advice to help us move on after choices we regret.

An article in Forbes lists “The 25 Biggest Regrets in Life.” Note that several of them have to do with the kids the writer assumes everybody has. Hello? Some of us don’t have children.

On the other hand, here are a bunch of great quotes about regret that most of us can relate to. I like this one from Queen Latifah: “I made decisions that I regret, and I took them as learning experiences . . . I’m human, not perfect, like anybody else.”

I do not regret visiting with you, my friends. Thank you for being here and for your comments.