Katy Seppi
World Childless Week Ambassador
This month marks eight years since my hysterectomy - the moment I knew motherhood wasn’t in the cards for me. I had my surgery on December 21, which also happens to be the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. It’s a fitting anniversary for something that brought so much darkness and grief and I feel its weight each time the winter holiday season rolls around.
The first few years were heartbreakingly brutal. Everything was so raw and tender. I wanted to enjoy the festivities and time with loved ones, but there was this wall of grief between me and those warm feelings. I could see the joy around me, but I couldn’t quite connect to it.
Nearly every commercial and Instagram post reinforces the same idealized version of the holidays: snapshots of married couples with kids in matching outfits, joyously participating in traditions designed for them. There’s an implicit message that this is what a “real” holiday looks like. For those of us who are childless, it can feel like we’re side characters, just there to witness and support those getting the full experience.
I recently polled 375 childless people about their holiday experiences, and the responses reflected what I often hear from our community:
94% struggle with grief and reminders of loss
89% feel invisible or unseen
86% feel lonely, even when surrounded by others
86% struggle to balance their own needs with expectations and obligations
If you see yourself in these numbers, I want you to know: what you’re experiencing is real, it’s valid, and you’re not alone.
Over time, I’ve learned how to actually prepare for the holidays. I’m better acquainted with grief and know what I’ll need in those moments. I know when to say yes and when to protect my heart and energy. I’ve altered or created traditions that better fit my life and needs. I lean in to the people who make me feel loved and included. And most importantly, I’ve learned that I don’t have to choose between honoring my grief and experiencing moments of joy and connection. I can make space and plan for both.
These strategies didn’t come all at once or from me alone. They grew over years from countless conversations with other childless people who understand what it’s like to navigate this season. From tapping into the collective wisdom and support of those who truly get it.
With the holidays swiftly approaching, I wanted to share some of the “tools” I’ve collected, in case they feel helpful for you too.
You won’t need all of these, so my suggestion is to think about a few specific things that are feeling particularly hard and then picking a couple of tools that feel like a fit.
In-the-Moment Tools for Hard Moments
Learn 1-2 grounding techniques (a quick internet search can give suggestions)
Name and validate the emotion you’re feeling
Prepare an excuse in advance in case you need to leave or take a break.
Prepare a few responses you can use for unwelcome comments or questions
Ask someone you trust to be available if you need to talk
Tending to Grief
Make time for rest and care
Create rituals to honor loss
Make a coping list: music playlist, meditation, scents, art, journaling, etc.
Attend a grief-focused event
Setting Boundaries
Communicate your needs
Give yourself permission to skip events and activities
Set time limits for difficult events or activities
Creating Enjoyable Moments
Make time for activities you enjoy
Create feel good rituals
Notice and savor “glimmers” or good moments as they happen
Alter traditions or create new ones that better meet your needs
For Connection
Reach out for one-on-one time (coffee, a walk, a phone call)
Spend at least some time with people you don’t have to mask your emotions for
Seek out community gatherings
Share how you’re feeling with someone you trust
The winter solstice may be the longest night, but it’s also a turning point - the moment when the light slowly begins to return. Eight years in, I’ve learned that grief doesn’t disappear with time, but our capacity to hold it alongside everything else expands. This season won’t be perfect, and it doesn’t need to be. My hope is that these tools help you protect yourself when you need protecting, connect when you need connection, and find your own moments of light. Because you deserve holidays that fit your life and honor your needs, exactly as you are.
