Anne Altamore
World Childless Week Ambassador
“I must stop this Christmas from coming….but how?” –a classic line from the movie How the Grinch stole Christmas and for a long time, the perfect articulation of my relationship with the festive season.
For many years, December was a difficult month. It was the month I had long dreamt of where I would create my own Xmas traditions with my children. Baking cookies, shopping for presents, decorating the house, going on holidays. In Australia Xmas is in summer, so visions of warm outdoors and camping by rivers (I loathe camping, but in my dream version of motherhood, I would have embraced it) were all part of the dream of what my family Xmas would look like. When I did get pregnant, my twins were due in January, so that year, Xmas took on a different dream which alas never eventuated.
And so began years of “I do not like this time of year”.
When November rolled around and the shops started being filled with Xmas cheer, I would get increasingly grumpy. The incessant chatter at work about presents and children’s demands, holidays, childcare, having to help organize family days for end of year work celebrations etc only made me angry.
Everything about November and December amplified my loneliness and sense of exclusion.
For me, from Halloween to New Year, simply wasn’t a season of joy—it was a time that shone a spotlight on everything I didn’t have. I was, for all intents and purposes, the Grinch.
However, although internally I felt like the Grinch, I became very good at wearing a mask. I smiled through December, went shopping for Kris Kringle presents, decorated the house and office, and generally acted as I was expected too. While deep down I experienced very intense feelings that made me uncomfortable.
How dare everyone be happy when my world felt so colourless and cold.
I now understand these feelings weren’t anger, jealousy or bitterness, they were deep grief at yet another life experience that living with childlessness had stolen from me. It didn’t make me bad, it just meant I was sad.
Xmas through the lens of connection
Then, one year, I met a little girl who showed me that Xmas wasn’t about what I didn’t have—it was about what I could create. Santa was exciting, but to her the true magic was having her friends and family gather for Xmas breakfast at her home.
We created a tradition: flipping crepes across the kitchen for her and her brother to catch. As they grew older, the distance grew longer, but the success rate never wavered—they always caught that crepe. That little girl is an adult now, and she tells me those breakfasts are among her favourite childhood Xmas memories.
Somewhere along the way, seeing Xmas through her eyes—where joy came from connection—I realised there are worse things than being childless. Like a heart grown hard, cold, and bitter. Like letting myself stay trapped in sadness simply because my life didn’t fit society’s script. Like letting grief define every Xmas for the rest of my life.
Childlessness does not mean we turn inwards and ignore anything and everything that can give us joy. While it is important to acknowledge the empty arms, we can also remind ourselves that the empty arms are not the absence of love, but maybe symbolic of what we are capable of holding and giving.
For me, this realisation was the start of transforming the ache into compassion — for myself and for others for whom Xmas is a difficult time.
Reframing and reclaiming Xmas
And so began a journey to re-frame and reclaim Xmas. I asked myself: What could Xmas look like for me? Maybe Xmas was a time to re-evaluate life to help my world make sense and help create a world that is just a little bit better for someone else. I made a conscious effort to create meaningful year end festivities for myself and others. I reframed it as a time to give, to love, and to look for joy and rest in new, creative ways. I became, as I like to think of it, my own version of Ms Claus—nurturing, generous, and creating warmth for hearts that may have gone cold.
When I stopped viewing Christmas as a time of exclusion, the space for creating an attitude of seeking active inclusion emerged.
Stepping into a giving role that included others was humbling and yet empowering to shift the grumpy in me. The first year, I volunteered to cook and serve lunch to homeless people. Working in a very busy kitchen was a huge learning experience and seeing the joy it brought to others was immensely humbling and satisfying. I requested for donations to charity in lieu of Xmas presents for myself. Over time, I created new traditions for home decorations, brought back my childhood of opening our home to others on Xmas day, offered to work during the Xmas / New Year break so others could spend time with their kids, and many other small changes that made a big difference to me.
What I learnt in my journey from Grinch to Ms Claus is the Grinch wasn’t cruel, he was hurting. He wanted peace from a world that didn’t understand pain. And so too, it is the same for us CNBC. Seeking peace and understanding from a child centric world during a season that has its focus on a miracle birth is simply not going to give us a sense of “the most wonderful time of the year”.
Becoming Mr or Ms Claus might be simply about ensuring your heart and life does not become empty. It may be about reclaiming celebration on your own terms. Maybe it is about saying no to what wounds, and yes to moments that nourish. I know because bit by bit, I realised that it is within my power to reclaim and reframe Xmas, and you can too.
This season, I encourage you to simply choose to honour yourself.
You don’t need to put on a mask that may further drain you. You don’t need to justify your choices, and you don’t need to explain yourself to anyone.
The journey to change is not simple or short, it takes time, effort, and an open and willing heart to reframe the way we view the world. I still have moments where I feel more Grinch than Ms Claus. But now, I know that when the Grinch emerges, it is just a time to acknowledge that it is grief for the dream that did not eventuate, and I just need to rest there for a while and then find the Ms Claus in me. The wise, tender, unapologetically childless woman who has learnt how to hold and honour grief for a life unlived. The same CNBC woman who also knows that the real magic of Xmas is in realising that I have the power to create what I need for peace, joy, love, and hope all year round.
From my heart to yours – peace, joy, love, and hope for the season and all year round. xx
