Cristina Archetti

World Childless Week Ambassador

Not having children is a life-long challenge, but we become stronger, wiser, and better able to take care of ourselves as we go along.

I have been processing the many emotions related to not having children for over a decade now. I have sat with them, cried with them, shouted at them, swept them under the carpet, put them under the microscope, remolded them, embraced them. I have done so through writing and researching, by being an Ambassador for WCW and speaking out loud, as an activist, for our voices to be heard, and by training as a psychotherapist specialized in trauma, first to tend to my own wounds, then to help others heal theirs.

I think I have reached what tends to be referred to as “acceptance,” that longed-for stage, while we are in the middle of the grief for not being able to become parents, where we can finally be at peace with ourselves and our life as it is. This is its essence: I can say “I am a childless woman and I am fine with it.” As I have learned in the past year, though, reaching “acceptance” does not mean there are no more challenges on the horizon. Being childless not by choice is no longer a source of suffering for me, nor it is a defining aspect of who I am. Yet, I am not immune from the deep and, as it turns out, most unsettling reverberations that not having children keeps on having on one’s entire life-course.

Life is not easy

I had been partly off work for a month when, at the beginning of November, a caring email reaching out and asking me “How are you?” helped me finally and clearly unravel, to my own eyes, what was actually happening:

‘I am on partial sick leave due to feeling a bit overwhelmed by a convergence of various things…apart from my parents getting older (my mum has Alzheimer—still in relatively early stage but relentlessly progressing), my husband is undergoing treatment for prostate cancer. It is all fine and “manageable” but of course this whole situation brings forward very strongly the fragility of life. It also brings forward the fragility of the network that, as a childless person, one relies on. I do not at all believe children are the source of ALL meaning in one’s life, but they are an important one nonetheless. Not having children, my family and my husband are vital pillars in my life. And when both of these pillars are unstable at once the whole of reality seem to be slowly imploding…add to this job stress and the arrival of [Norwegian] winter…not a good moment.

Anyway I now feel much better. I am focusing on myself, using the (not much, actually) time off work to do therapy, try new experiences to reconnect with myself and process my emotions, reflecting on what my priorities are.’

Taking care of oneself, seriously

Believe it or not, I had never before been formally on sick leave in my entire life. Asking for help, taking time off, would have felt like a failure, an admission of defeat. I had not even taken a break while I was going through IVF—was it in 2014? It feels like a lifetime ago. After receiving the phone call from the fertility clinic telling me and my husband that there had been no fertilization at all (an extremely rare occurrence, apparently), I returned, still in a state of shock, to my home office desk and my work emails. When I look back at it, I feel so sorry for the traumatized woman I was, for the way I treated myself, for at that time being incapable of compassion towards myself, for pushing myself so hard and so ruthlessly. For what? I have since completely transformed. By taking sick leave I sent to myself a strong and concrete message: I deserve to be taken care of, I am worthy of protection and love. I also started to say more often “no” and “I am sorry, I am unable to take on this commitment right now,” respecting my own limits, admitting that, as much as much as it would be desirable to “do more” (what we are constantly expected to do in a culture that is obsessed with performance and productivity) we just do not live in an ideal world, it is not my job to please others, and I am the first person whose happiness and health I am interested in.

Some useful reminders

Some reminders that have been helping me re-align with myself and that will guide me throughout this new year are:

• Follow the meaning. What ignites my interest and makes my heart beat? I need to make that my compass.

• Cultivate the nurturing connections. Who are the people who truly appreciate me and with whom I feel I can be myself? Maybe I’ll ring them or drop them a line.

• Give yourself permission to enjoy the small pleasures of everyday life. What can give me that little extra spark of joy today? Perhaps I can take a detour through the park to watch the trees, the fog, or the squirrels chasing each other; I can bake a cake or make a pumpkin soup; buy fairy lights for the house; or attend an event or a course about something completely new—I recently attended a course on Sami shamanism, a session on yoga mantra chanting, and a Cacao Ceremony.

• Listen to the body. What do I really want, beyond what my mind tells me would be “good” to do and achieve? Recently, to cut the “noise” from overthinking, I have started this simple, yet extremely effective, exercise: standing firmly with my feet on the ground, my knees soft, eyes closed, I ask myself a question (like “Do I want to go to the gym?” or “Shall I have an ice cream?”), then see whether my body starts leaning forward (yes) or backward (no). The results, sometimes, are quite surprising.

Onwards, one step at a time

“Acceptance” also means reconciling oneself with the fact that life keeps on bringing new challenges: it is simply part of the journey. What has changed in this phase, though, is that I now trust that I can face them. I know that, after every storm, the sun will shine again. And not just because this is the natural cycle of all things, like the day following the night or the eternal changing of the seasons. I can take action and use the many skills and resources I have gathered—I have 49 years of life behind me, after all—to take care of myself. This, too, shall pass—one step at a time.

Much love to you and take care of yourself in 2025.