Childless Not by Choice: The Grief is Never Completely Gone

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", childless grief, childless not by choice, grandma grief, grief over childlessness, grief triggers, Jody Day, never going to be a mother , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Red-haired woman crying. She's wearing wedding rings, has red nail polish and red lipstick, and is holding a tissue. No one is comforting her.

All it took was one word to break my heart again.

That word was “Mama.”

I was down in the dumps anyway as I took my usual walk down Cedar Street. A migraine had dogged me all weekend. I missed a music jam I was looking forward to. I was tired of being alone.

A German shepherd standing in a driveway reminded me of Annie and all the dogs I have lost, including Heidi, the German shepherd I lost along with my first marriage.

Then I passed these two little brown-haired boys, one maybe two years old, the other maybe six.

As the little one stared at me, the big one shouted, “He might call you ‘Mama.’”

And then he did. “Mama!”

Gulp. No one has ever called me Mama.

I smiled and waved. “I don’t mind,” I assured the older boy as tears threatened. “He’s cute.”

What? Like a puppy? It was a dumb thing to say.

I let the tears fall as soon I got out of their sight. The pain of never having children was just as bad 20 years past menopause as it was when I was 35.

That scarred place in my heart breaks every time this happens.

A couple weeks ago at church, I was playing the piano at Mass. The family close to me in the front row included an adorable toddler happily squeezed between her mother and grandmother. Black hair, brown skin, big eyes, dimples. If I had had a little girl, she would have looked a lot like this one, maybe not as brown, but she’d have the same black hair and brown eyes.

Grandma held a big cloth book while the child turned the pages.

Oh my God, I wanted to be one of those women. I wanted to hold that baby. But I never would. I had no claim to her.

All I could do was keep playing the piano.

Back on my walk, I was visiting a neighbor’s dogs a little later when the boys came down the street with an older girl. In trying to keep up, the little guy stumbled and fell. He was not hurt, but he looked at me and cried “Mama!” I kept petting the dogs while the girl scooped up her little brother. She was already a mother-in-training. I missed that class.  

I belong with the dogs, I told myself. I’m a dog person. I’m going to get another dog soon. I will feel better.

Why do I share this today? Because it still hurts. Because I want you to know that while you will feel okay most of the time about not having children and will build a good life without them, it’s still going to hurt when you least expect it. That scar is there, and it’s brittle.

As Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women and author of the book Living the Life Unexpected, likes to say, our pain is an unacknowledged, disenfranchised grief. When someone dies, it’s awful, but everyone sees and understands your loss. They hold you while you cry. They bring casseroles. They know it hurts and give you a break. When you get a divorce, lose a job, or crash your car, everybody sympathizes.

But not having children doesn’t seem to count. How can you grieve what you never had? Besides, they say, unless you were physically unable to bear children, you made the choices that led to this situation. Right? So get over it.

It’s not that easy. It will hurt sometimes. It’s okay. Cry, stomp, curse, whatever you have to do. Talk about it with people who might be sympathetic. Try to explain: When I hear the word Mama, it kills me.

It will pass. You’ll go on with the other wonderful things in your life. But it’s never gone.

Listen to Jody Day’s talk on Disenfranchised grief and know that those of us who experience this kind of grief are aware of your tears and your pain and acknowledge that it is real.

Are there words or situations that trigger your emotions? Do the people around you understand why you’re upset? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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I have a new Substack titled “Can I Do It Alone?” Since my first post on April 1, it has taken off like wildfire. See what all the fuss is about at https://open.substack.com/pub/suelick/p/introducing-can-i-do-it-alone?r=ejjy9&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web

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Would you rather be childless than single?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless widow, choosing a childless life, choosing between love and children, divorce, husband doesn't want kids, living alone, wife doesn't want kids , , , , , , , , , ,

Are you terrified of ending up alone?

It’s okay to admit it if you are. Most people feel that way. I’m not as afraid as I used to be because I have been on my own for many years, but I know people who absolutely can’t handle it. No need to feel bad about that. Animals hang together for safety, and we’re hardwired to do the same.

In June 2021, I published a post titled “Do we commit to less than perfect partners because we’re terrified of being alone?” It’s still a good question.

I suspect I married my first husband because I was afraid no other man would want me. As I wrote in 2021, no one asked me out until I was in college. Too nerdy, too fat, not social enough, parents too strict? I don’t know. I was already wondering if I’d ever find anyone, if I’d be like my Barbie doll without a Ken.

I was afraid no man would love me when everything in my world told me a woman needs to get married and have children. So when someone finally wanted to date me, I didn’t ponder whether I liked him; I said yes. And I continued to say yes through a first marriage that failed and a series of unsuitable boyfriends between marriages. When I think of all the garbage I put up with just to hold onto a man . . .

By the time I met Fred, I had come to believe I would be single for the rest of my life. What if he hadn’t come along? I hope I wouldn’t have married another dud just to have someone. I know people who have done that. Don’t you?

When we want and expect to have children, when we are physically able and have no reason not to, and our partner says, “Nope. I don’t want to” or “I’ve already got my kids and don’t need anymore” or “maybe someday, definitely not anytime soon,” why do we stick with them anyway?

Is it love or fear of being alone? I knew my first husband was not a perfect match. I saw red flags all over the place, but I still married him. Because that’s what women my age were supposed to do. I had visions of domestic bliss and babies and a happy family life. None of that happened. What if instead of moving from my parents’ house to the apartment I shared with my husband, I had created my own grownup life first?

My second husband, Fred, was definitely a keeper. Such a good man, so in love with me, dependable, the kind of guy who puts up with your relatives and sits with you at the hospital when you get sick. But he had three kids from his first marriage and wasn’t willing to have any more. Should I have said no to him? I was 31 and fertile. I should have fought harder. Shoulda woulda coulda, right?

By the time Fred came along, I had been single for several years. I could have carried on by myself. But I chose to marry him. I chose to accept his kids as mine and not have my own. This time, the love was enough to make up for the rest.

I never expected Fred to be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in his 60s and die at 73, leaving me alone, probably for the rest of my life. I did not choose this. But here I am, alone in the house we bought together on the Oregon coast. Even our dog has passed away. It has been 15 years since Fred moved into a nursing home, 13 years this month since he died.

If I made different choices at the beginning when I married the man who seemed to be my only choice, would my life be completely different now? Would I be surrounded by grown children and grandchildren? I’ll never know.

This raises multiple questions for me, and I would love to know what you think.

* Do we commit our lives to someone less than ideal because we’re afraid of being alone?

* Are we willing to leave a partner who won’t give us kids and risk ending up alone if we don’t find someone else who does want to be a parent?

* What if this relationship ends in divorce or widowhood and we are left alone anyway?

Our world is set up for couples and families with children. It’s not easy when your “family photo” is a selfie. But we can do it.

I have started a new Substack series titled “Can I Do It Alone?” The answer to that question is, “Heck yeah.” Apparently, a lot of people are worried about being alone. The subscriptions and comments are flooding my inbox. If you’re interested, take a wander over to suelick.substack.com and see what that’s all about.

Meanwhile, here at Childless by Marriage, let’s talk about it. Did we settle for a childless life out of fear of being alone? What if this relationship ends?

Thank you so much for being here. I treasure you all.

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“Barbie” doll leads the way for not-moms

Sue Fagalde Lick childless role models, Dame Helen Mirren, playing with dolls , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
A little girl dressed in pink stands inside a pink Barbie doll box surrounded by pink balloons.

I watched the Barbie movie again last week after Ryan Gosling rocked the “Ken” song on the Academy awards. I needed a night full of pink, woman power, and fun music. Barbie is one of us, you know. Never had kids. Most versions of Barbie never got married, and well, it’s difficult to make babies when you don’t have genitals.

I was also reminded of Barbie when I came across a chapter that didn’t make it into my Childless by Marriage book. It’s titled “I’d Rather Die Than Be Like My Mother.” Now, those are not my words. I was quoting someone else. I think my mother was fantastic. I did want to be like her. But let me share a little about Barbie and the other dolls from that missing chapter.

On the TV soup commercial, the little girl with pigtails tells us about her mother taking care of her big family, making sure everyone is healthy, happy and well-fed. “She’s supermom,” the girl says. “I want to grow up to be just like my mom.”

Click. Suddenly I realize what makes some little girls want to be mommies while others don’t want anything to do with motherhood. It’s role models. You want to emulate the people you admire. My mother was a great mom, so I grew up wanting to be one, too. I also wanted to be a writer like Grandma Rachel, and I wanted to be in show biz like all the people I saw on TV. My Barbie dolls were always singers going off to do a show, not mommies in the kitchen making dinner.

Interestingly, some of the women I interviewed said their Barbies were themselves or their friends. Others saw Barbie as an adult role model. Gina, an unmarried 42-year-old court reporter, says, “Barbie kicked ass and was a professional woman, not a wife and mother.” But Talia, who at 34 still hopes to find the right man and have children, confesses, “My dolls were all my babies. I’d even make my Barbie doll pregnant.”

Most of the women in my life were mothers. My grandmothers, aunts, cousins, and the other women who lived on our block were all mothers. The ladies on TV were mothers. Even those show business icons I admired were mothers or destined to become mothers once they met and married the man of their dreams. In the fairy tales I read, the hero and heroine got together and next thing you knew they had children.

It was even in the songs: “Tea for Two for two and two for tea, me for you and you for me. We will raise a family, a boy for you, a girl for me. Can’t you see how lovely it will be.”  

Babies were considered a good thing. When my Aunt Joyce gave birth to my cousins Tracy and Chris, it was great news. Everyone was happy. Babies were held out as a treasure. “Do you want to hold him?” the mothers would ask.

I didn’t spend too much time around babies growing up, unless you count all the dolls I treated like my children, but I was raised to believe that every little girl would grow up to be a mommy. Watching my mother modeling near-perfect motherhood every day of her life, I never questioned wanting to be a mother. Of course I wanted children.

At one point in the introduction to the Barbie movie, we see a group of little girls cuddling and caring for their baby dolls. All the little mothers look a little brainwashed. But then, Barbie arrives with the music from “2001” playing, and the little moms smash their baby dolls to bits.

That’s how much our world changed in the years when I was growing up. But the Barbie dolls of the movie were not content to be stereotypes with perfect figures and high heels on their forever tiptoed feet. They start to realize there’s more to life and they have the power to go after it. As for poor Ken, sorry.

I don’t want to dive into politics, but our world seems to be changing again with a large contingent of U.S. conservatives wanting to take away reproductive choices by outlawing abortion and more recently, declaring illegal some of the key aspects of fertility treatments. Are they trying to bring back the world where little girls spend all their time taking care of make-believe babies until they grow up expecting to raise real babies? Let’s look at the beginning of the movie again, just before Barbie arrives. There are five girls on the screen. Take the infant dolls away from two of them. Those girls are us, the ones who do not have babies.

I don’t know if there has ever been or will be a short, dumpy, gray-haired Barbie in a pink hoodie and jeans who is always reading or writing, but there might be. Writer Barbie! We are each free to be our own kind of kick-ass Barbie, mother or not. As non-mom narrator Helen Mirren says in the movie, “Because Barbie can be free to be anything, women can be free to be anything.” Bottom line, motherhood is the traditional choice, but it is not the only choice. If you still have your doll, raise her up high and vow to keep it that way.  

While you’re at it, read this fabulous poem by Denise Duhamel about Barbie facing Medicare. It was published on March 19 at the Rattle poetry site. Also take a look at The Barbie Diaries by my friend Dale Champlin , and Barbie Chang by Victoria Chang.

In fact, there are a lot of Barbie books. Clearly she is more than just a doll.

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What if nobody was talking about their kids?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless feeling left out, Jody Day , , , , , , , , , ,

What is it like to be in a room full of people who are childless like you? A room where no one insists on showing you their baby pictures or asks when you’re going to “have a family” of your own?

I can tell you it’s fantastic. In 2017, I attended the NotMom Summit in Cleveland, Ohio. Organizer Karen Malone Wright invited women who were childfree by choice and who were childless not by choice for whatever reason. One might wonder if the two groups would clash, but we had so much more in common than we had differences that we bonded immediately.

Putting on an in-person conference of any kind is a huge endeavor, requiring a lot of money, time and effort, and Wright was not able to do it again, but this year Kati Seppi, who has hosted an annual Childless Collective Summit online for the past years, is hosting the first in-person Childless Collective Summit April 12-14 in Charleston, South Carolina. The weekend includes talks, workshops, opportunities to get to know other women and men who don’t have children, and a fun day at the beach. Keynote speaker Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women, is one of many great reasons to consider going.

Seppi says, “The theme of the summit is celebration. If you’ve had to let go of your dream of parenthood, celebrating may be the last thing on your mind. But, please hear me when I tell you this: You are worthy of celebration. There is room for joy, even in the midst of grief. I’m willing to bet you’ve spent a lot of time celebrating the baby-related milestones of friends and family members. When we’re childless, a lot of our big moments pass by, unrecognized. Our milestones deserve to be seen and celebrated too. This is a party just for us.”

The summit sessions are designed to support you in: 

  • Building friendships with others who are childless.
  • Learning to identify and amplify your greatest strengths.
  • Recognizing your value and worth.
  • Identifying new avenues to meaning and joy.
  • Feeling seen and validated in your childless experience.
  • Finding inspiring examples of rich and full lives without kids.

The cost is $550 before March 15, $600 after, which covers all the sessions, catered lunches each day, and transportation to the beach for the party there. Participants also become members of a private online group that will continue to support each other after the summit.

Learn more and get your ticket to join the summit.

If you’re feeling lonely in your childlessness, I encourage you to think about attending the summit. I believe you will come out feeling recharged and feeling much better about your life.

Due to work and health situations that keep me from flying across the country at this point, I can’t attend this year, but it will be on my calendar for next year.

I know this sounds like an advertisement, but it’s going to be fabulous, and Katy needs more signups to cover her costs. Think about it, okay?

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My poetry chapbook Blue Chip Stamp Guitar, book two of the four I have coming out this year, is in print, and oh so beautiful. Click here to attend my online reading from the book this Saturday at 4 p.m. Pacific time.

You may also want to read Between the Bridges, the third in my series of novels about a childless woman named PD and her friends living on the Oregon coast. In this one, she feels her childlessness more than ever, and I think many of you would identify with her and enjoy her story. Between the Bridges is available at Amazon and wherever books are sold. You can also ask your library to order it.

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My Feb. 22 post about more people owning pets than having children had some incorrect numbers, according to Sarah Rose of the World Animal Foundation. As of this year, she says, 86.9 million U.S. households own a pet, which accounts for 66 percent. It’s still a lot. If you survey my church choir or my neighbors here in Oregon, it would be 100 percent, whether they have kids or not.

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Obsessing Over Dogs vs. Obsessing Over Children

Sue Fagalde Lick Annie the dog, fur babies, parenting pets, pets instead of children, treating pets like babies , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Photo shows gorgeous all-white puppy with black nose asleep between a wooden chair and a beige wall on a brown hardwood floor.

The tiny dog in the flannel jacket put her paws on my knees. I bent down. “Hi, I’m Aunt Sue,” I said. She licked my face with her tiny tongue. Aww, said everyone at church choir practice.

It was all about dogs last night. I’m not complaining because I adore dogs, and my idea of heaven is to roll around in a pile of dogs. This dog, a puppy, is the newest addition to our church choir family. Her owners don’t feel comfortable leaving her home alone yet.

All of the singers have or have had canine family members. My Annie passed away in September, but I have plenty of stories to contribute. We talked about chewing, biting, barking, random things they have eaten, and places they have snuck into. Earlier in the day, our director’s dog destroyed a box of Q-Tips and scattered them from hither to yon.

Eventually we got around to practicing our songs while the dog continued to flit from one singer to another until her “mom” pulled her up and snuggled her in a blanket in her lap.

As a dog mom, I don’t mind dog talk. But what if I didn’t have dogs? What if I couldn’t have a dog? What if I was a cat person? A few months ago, a singer quit the choir, partially because we were always bringing our dogs to practice and talking nonstop about dogs. She not only didn’t have a dog; she was terrified of them, due to a bad experience when she was younger.

Isn’t it the same way when everyone at a gathering is talking about their children? Maybe they bring a baby or toddler with them, and you sit there feeling left out. We’re always tensed for the questions: How many kids do you have? How old are your children? Do you have any grandchildren yet? You don’t have children? Why not?

Most of our choir members are grandparents, but their families live far away. Besides, we know them, so we can share in the conversation. It would be different if they were in the midst of raising their children instead of dogs.

The National Association of Realtors recently shared census statistics that showed there are more American households with pets than with children. Way more. As of 2022, 40 percent had kids in the home, down from 48 percent in 2002. The Pet Products Association reported that 70 percent of American households own a pet, up from 56 percent in 1968. (The World Animal Foundation says it’s 66 percent.) You can read the whole article for more details, but wow. Birthrates are going down; pet ownership is going up.

Why? For all the reasons people are having fewer children: marrying later if at all, more divorces, easy access to birth control, finances, concerns about the state of the world, physical or emotional challenges, infertility, etc.

Dogs are a big commitment but not as much as a baby, especially once they grow out of the puppy stage. You cannot leave a baby in the backyard and go out to dinner. You can’t take them to a kennel and go on vacation. They need you 24/7. Dogs will never become teenagers who tell you they hate you. They will not grow up and leave you with an empty nest.

Pet ownership has changed over the years, not just in numbers but in how we treat our “fur babies.” Many people I know share their beds with their dogs and cats. In my father’s day, people wouldn’t even let them in the house. They were animals. Now they’re family.

The small towns on the Oregon coast where I live are full of dogs. A little black one “works” at the Waldport library. A poodle named Ruby works the waiting room at my hearing aid place in Newport. A little fur ball greets customers at the Nye Beach bookstore. Our pastor, Fr. Joseph, has two poodles, Allie and Bailey, and is frequently seen walking them on the streets of Waldport. On my walks here in South Beach, I say hello to the neighbor’s Great Pyrenees, Lumin. On the next street, Winnie the Corgi and Bobo the chocolate Lab come running out to walk with me.

I love dogs, and I’m aching to get another one. When I do, I guarantee it will be all about the dog. But I’m beginning to realize we don’t all have and love dogs anymore than we all have and love human children.

What if I was not a dog person and people were incessantly talking about their dogs? Change the language. What if I was not a mom or dad and people were incessantly talking about their children and grandchildren? That’s something most of us have experienced. It hurts.

How about you? Do your pets feel like family? Like children? Like friends? When you’re in a group of people, are they talking about pets or children? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it.

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Did You Miss These Top Ten Childless by Marriage Posts?

Sue Fagalde Lick alone in old age, alone without children, childless and alone, Childless by Marriage blog, childless role models , , , ,

Dear friends,

I’m recovering from a surgical procedure I had yesterday. It’s no big deal, I promise, but it has left me feeling a bit puny. I keep thinking about being old and on my own. Not having kids or a partner means you may have no one to drive you to and from the hospital or to hang around and make sure you’re all right afterward. That’s something to consider when you’re planning a life without children. But you don’t need to hear me whine, so let’s step back and take a look at what’s happening here at the blog.

Since Aug. 2007, I have published 859 Childless by Marriage posts. I’m hoping to get to 1,000 before I hang it up, but I’ll be honest. I’m running out of ideas. The older I get, the harder it is to reach back to my fertile years and remember how I was feeling then. I will continue to mine the internet, podcasts, books, and other media for inspiration. Usually even when I wake up with nothing, God or the muse provides the spark of an idea and I get busy writing. Today not so much.

WordPress, my blogging platform, gives me stats showing which posts attract the most attention. From the past year, here are the top ten:

  1. Who Do You See as Your Childless Role Models?
  2. Is the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’ Only for People with Children?
  3. Media Depictions of Childlessness Miss the Mark
  4. Can a Dog or Cat Take the Place of a Human Baby?
  5. When People Having Babies on TV Make You Cry
  6. ‘You’re So Lucky You Don’t Have Kids’—Are We?
  7. Childless Marriage: Would I Do It Again?
  8. Want to Be Seen as Radical? Don’t Have Children
  9. Once Again, They Assume Everyone has Children
  10. Different Generations Have Different Ideas About Having Children

If you missed any of these, I encourage you to read them and comment on them. Scroll around to see what else is there. What would you like to see discussed at Childless by Marriage? Is there something bugging you that we have not addressed or need to take another look at? Let me know. I need your help to keep this thing going. If you feel inspired to write a post yourself, do it. See the guidelines on this page and give it a shot. The Childless by Marriage community works best when we do it together.

Happy Valentine’s Day, dear ones. Here is my virtual Valentine to every one of you.

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Do You Ever Pretend That You Have Children?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless stepfathers, childless stepmoms, mothering stepchildren, pretend you have children, pretending to be a mom , , , , , , , , ,

I have to confess something: I faked it.

No, not sex. Never.

In journals, essays, and newspaper articles from the ‘80s and ‘90s (yes, I’m that old), I wrote about my life as if I were a mother. I talk about school lunches that I never packed. I wrote about PTA meetings, soccer games, and our teenager driving my car. For years, I wrote for a parenting newspaper, Bay Area Parent, covering all kinds of topics from the cost of having a baby to how to make a kid eat healthy food to juggling work and parenting. When I did interviews, I let my mom and dad interviewees think I was a parent just like them. Sometimes they asked questions about my pregnancies and my kids that forced me to admit I didn’t have any, but most of the time I got away with it.

I was parenting in a way, but it was “parenting lite.” My youngest stepson moved in with us when he was 12. Before that, he had stayed with us on weekends, holidays, and summer vacations. We enjoyed his company; then he went home. His older brother and sister were already off on their own so we saw less of them.

The live-in stepson could pretty much take care of himself. Although I was the one the school called when there was a problem and I was the one baking cookies for his Boy Scout meetings, most of the time I was free to work, sing, and socialize. Yet, when it was to my advantage, I let the world think I was a mom.

Was I really? More like a mom wannabe. We all got along, but it wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. It was very clear my husband’s children already had a mother and her name was not Sue. In “family photos,” this short, olive-skinned brunette obviously did not come from the same gene pool as these tall Nordic kids.

What if I had just said, “I don’t have any kids?” Was I afraid to declare my childless state and be kicked out of the mom club? Was I hoping step-parenting was close enough? Did I convince myself I was a mom? What about all those tears I shed as my fertile years dwindled away with no babies for me?

What stories do we tell ourselves? What stories do we tell other people? Why not just be honest?

I don’t have children and I wish I did.

I don’t have children and that’s all right.

I don’t have children. Sometimes I’m sad; sometimes I’m happy.

I have stepchildren, and I love them like my own.

I have stepchildren, and we don’t get along.

I have stepchildren, and I’m trying, but it’s hard.

I wrote those motherly essays and articles years before I started writing about childlessness. I don’t fake it anymore. When my husband died, his children stepped away. I would like to have them in my life, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Maybe I sucked at the whole motherhood thing because I’m obsessed with my work. Maybe they were as confused as I was about how to manage a stepfamily and they had no idea how much I wanted to be a mother.

So the question sits there: Was I pretending? Was it okay? A quick search online shows stepparents do not have the same legal rights as biological parents. Check out this piece, “The Harsh Realities of Stepparenting.” But we’re there, and we care. Doesn’t that count?

How about you? Are there times when you would rather people not know you are childless? Do you ever let the world think you’re a parent to your stepchildren or your pets or . . . ? Is that okay?

I welcome your comments.

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Realistic childless role models, real or fictional, are hard to find

Sue Fagalde Lick adoption, books about being childfree, books about childlessness, childless role models, Nomos , , , , , , , , , , ,

The last novel I read, titled The Way It Should Be, was enjoyable but typical of the prenatal slant we usually get. Early on, newlyweds Zara and Chad discover Zara carries the gene for a fatal disease she could pass on to their children. She’s thinking they should not get pregnant. But he really wants a family. Will he leave her if she can’t give him sons and daughters? Before they can think twice about it, the children of a troubled family member fall into their laps. They’re adorable, and eventually they adopt them. Easy-peasy. Not realistic. I like a happy ending, but it would have been a more meaningful book for me if Chad and Zara had been forced to deal with their situation as potential non-parents and how that would change their lives.

Have you read any good books with childless characters lately? Sometimes it seems that every adult character we encounter in books and other media has children. But that’s not how it is in real life. The NoMo (non-mother) book club was formed to highlight books for those of us who are not parents. They have compiled quite a list. Visit their site at https://www.instagram.com/thenomobookclub.

Book club member Rosalyn Scott has started a new feature there called “Other Words,” where she interviews childless authors. The site goes live this Saturday, Jan. 13. and includes an interview with me about my books and writing. The image shown here includes a quote from that interview. I look forward to reading all the others. I know a few of the authors, but most are new to me. Give it a read at https://thenomobookclub.wixsite.com/otherwords. Visit the nomocrones instagram site for some good reading ideas. If you have a favorite book that fits the “NoMo” category, let the book club know at thenomobookclub@gmail.com.

Speaking of books, have I mentioned that I have four coming out this year? One of them is the next in my series about PD (no kids!) and her friends at Beaver Creek, Oregon. Two more are poetry books, and the fourth is No Way Out of This, a memoir about going through Alzheimer’s Disease with my late husband. It’s nuts. But could I say no to any of my dream publishers who wanted to publish my work? Heck no. It will be an interesting year of proofing covers and pages, publicity and marketing, giving talks, and trying to find time to manage the rest of my life. If I had children, they would be badly neglected.

It’s like giving birth to quadruplets. At any particular time, one is crying, one needs a diaper change, one has a fever, and the other has just spit up all over me. I’m raising books instead of people. How about you? What are you raising this year?

On Dec. 20, the childless elderwomen held their fireside chat about childless role models. What most of us decided was that although we could name some famous people without children, we didn’t have many real-life role models to follow. When we were of childbearing age, no one talked about why some people didn’t have children. Rumors were tossed around, but no one sat down and had an honest discussion about it. Now, we have become role models for each other. Perhaps you younger readers can be role models for us. I think the lesson to be learned from this is to talk about it. If you know someone who hasn’t had children, ask them in a quiet, private moment if they mind chatting about it. You could tell them about your own situation and say you’re seeking advice about what it’s like. We have to stop the silence.

Meanwhile, here’s a link to the video. https://jodyday.substack.com/?r=ejjy9&utm_campaign=pub&utm_medium=web It’s a little over an hour long.

I welcome your comments, and I hope your new year is starting out well.

Sue

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A Childless Holiday Can Be Anything You Want it to Be

Sue Fagalde Lick Central oregon coast, childless at Christmas, Childless holidays, foster children , , , , , , , ,

There was a moment Christmas Eve when I looked out from my seat in the choir at the beautiful families in church and wanted to weep. I don’t have that. I will never have that. I will never be the mom surrounded by children and grandchildren with her handsome husband by her side.

But I was not alone. I was with our eight-person choir, who feel like family, and I had songs to sing and play, with solos to perform. I had to pull it together, even if I was just going through the motions. I admit that I visited the liquor cabinet after Mass and toasted my late husband with a bit of Cointreau, a French liqueur he left behind.

Christmas day dawned gray and rainy, but I felt better. I sat beside my Christmas tree and opened the presents I had not already opened the day before—who’s to tell me when to open my gifts?

The ones from family felt as if they didn’t really know me, but I had another Mass to play music for, so I didn’t dwell on it. I made myself a breakfast of fresh strawberries, a homemade muffin, and tea and dressed for Christmas Day Mass. Instead of Christmas Eve’s long skirt that was constantly in my way, I wore black slacks, a green shirt, and a sparkly vest—I was comfortable and festive.

I look back on my Christmas day in brightly colored mental snapshots and feel blessed.

At church, I played the piano. We sang carols and solos before Mass, and my song went as well as it possibly could. The church sparkled with red flowers and people in their holiday clothes. I love our small white church by the sea and all the people in it.

After Mass, I dashed home for lunch—a meat loaf sandwich, my favorite. I played a CD of Handel’s “Messiah” while making my salad for dinner with friends. I talked for a long time on the phone with my best friend in California, then drove 45 minutes up the coast to pick up Orpha, a friend, from her senior residence. Childless and widowed like me, she is still gorgeous in her 80s, and fun. We laughed and talked until we arrived at our friends’ house. There, it was a riot of gift wrappings, food, cookies, wine, and yes, kids, two teens and a little one. After their biological kids grew up, our hosts became foster parents. They specialize in teens with gender identity issues.

Most years, I spend at least one of the holidays there, and it always feels like home. It feels like family—no, it feels better than family because all of the people there have been chosen. My friends have collected me and Orpha, the two men who share a house across the street, their own children, their foster children, and their dogs and cats. It’s loud, crazy and wonderful, and I don’t feel a lack of anything.

Shortly after darkness fell, we oldies headed home. I traded my church/party clothes for soft PJs and settled in to watch the new Meg Ryan movie on Amazon Prime.

The doorbell rang. I paused the movie. My young neighbors and their friends sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” in perfect harmony, just for me. They all hugged me, and they gave me cookies, a giant candy cane, and a big beautiful photo taken in the location of my novel Up Beaver Creek. So sweet.

My brother’s family, whom I miss a lot, was having a more traditional Christmas with the kids and grandkids. My best friend was at her adult daughter’s home, but they weren’t getting along and she had a stomachache. Not all family holidays are joyful. If I were with family, I might have felt the lack of my own children and my late husband more deeply. It comes and goes. I have losses to grieve, but at the same time I have so much freedom and so much love in my life.

There is life beyond childlessness. It can be beautiful. You do need to reach out to other people and let them reach out to you. If you close the door and wallow in your loneliness, well, you will be lonely.

How did your holiday go? I’d love to hear the good, bad and ugly. Did you feel sad about not having children or relieved? Did you do anything a standard family might not have done? One couple I know went to Cabo. Why not?

A few days ago, when I was feeling creative, I wrote a new Christmas song. Click here if you’d like to hear it. Let me know if the link doesn’t work.

Next weekend is the New Year’s holiday. What will you do differently next year?

Thank you all for being here. I treasure your comments.

Photo by Nick Collins on Pexels.com

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Who Do You See as Your Childless Role Models?

Sue Fagalde Lick childless role models, childless women, Uncategorized , , , , , , , , ,
Image is a poster for a panel discussion on "The power of role models" by Gateway Women and the Nomocrones. It lists the participants' names over a picture of a campfire with hills and a sunset in the background.

A role model is a person whose behavior in a particular role is imitated by others, says the Merriam Webster dictionary.

Who are your role models? Who do you want to be like when you grow up?

Back when we were children playing with dolls and various imaginative games, we might have pictured ourselves living the same lives as our parents. Or not. My mom was a housewife, but somehow my older dolls, Barbie and such, were always in show business. There was always a stage waiting for them to sing and dance. Think Doris Day way back then, maybe Taylor Swift now.

That life had nothing to do with having children. I didn’t even think about it. Did you?

Now that we are grownups, whose life do we want to imitate? I ask because the Childless Elderwomen will be discussing our role models next Wednesday, Dec. 20, on Zoom, and I’m not sure yet what I want to say.

A role model demonstrates a role that you hope to play. Literally, if you are an actor. Likewise, if you are a painter, you might try to copy their techniques. A dancer might employ their moves, or a singer might mimic their sounds. Writers like me are always being asked about our role models. I could list them, but in many cases I don’t know if they ever had children. Does it matter?

In religion, one might try to follow the example of a holy person. For example, the Catholic Church celebrates all the many virgin martyrs who gave their lives to God, not to mention all the priests, bishops and popes who lived celibate lives (let’s not get into the whole abuse thing).

Most of us are aware of the usual famous non-moms: Dolly Parton, Oprah Winfrey, Helen Mirren, Jennifer Anniston, Gloria Steinem, Kim Cattrall, Mother Teresa, Emily Dickinson . . .

You can find plenty of interviews with celebrities talking about their “infertility journeys,” most of which ended up with a baby via IVF or surrogacy. But as usual, nobody is talking about not having children because your partner is unable or unwilling. I’d like to read the stories of people who have done that.

Do we have role models who are not famous?

Most of our parents and grandparents modeled one way of life: the one where everything revolves around the family. You work hard, buy a house, raise your kids, enjoy your grandkids, and grow old. But there are others who don’t follow that pattern. My Aunt Edna never had children, and her husband died young. She did office work and volunteered at her church for many years, then traveled all over the world with her sister Virginia, who was also single and childless. Edna died at 100, Virginia at 101. Other childless women in my life have included my favorite journalism professor, my step-grandmother, and friends I met through my husband’s work. All lived active lives and seemed content. They never talked about their childlessness. But would I see them as role models? Not really. We were very different in most ways.

Thank God some people in the childless community, including Jody Day, Stephanie Phillips, Michael Hughes, and Katy Seppi, openly discuss their childless status and offer support to others. They can be role models, at least for this aspect of our lives. I suspect we need different role models for different things, some for career, some for lifestyle, some for our spiritual lives. What do you think?

Who are your childless role models? Whose example do you want to follow in your own life? Is there someone you admire, famous or not, that you try to imitate?

I will be joining the Childless Elderwomen on Dec. 20 to discuss our role models. Join us on Zoom. It’s totally anonymous. To get the link, register here.

Read more about this: https://www.thecut.com/2014/08/25-famous-women-on-childlessness.html–most of these active women chose the childfree life.

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