Anne Altamore
World Childless Week Ambassador
I have a love-hate relationship with the merry month of May. Here in Australia, the autumn leaves are littering the street, and the days are getting shorter, a sure sign that winter is not far away. It is also Mother’s Day and the month I was pregnant oh so many years ago.
There is a particular kind of silence I choose this month. I want to celebrate the memories of a short-lived joy while also wanting to shut it out completely. I used to dread the hype and marketing for Mother’s Day, now I see it as a good time to indulge in sales. This year it will be splurging on a new pair of gumboots.
What I am reminded of at this time every year is that making the decision that I will be living a life of childlessness when our infertility ended was never just a single point in time. The emotions around that day when we knew that hope for a child had ended is always everywhere for all of life’s journey. I have found it to be an ever-changing experience that shifts in intensity over the years.
With the help of therapists and the beautiful, encouraging community within World Childless Week, I am much better at being aware of the ups and downs of this life, and creating workable coping strategies.
Some days I surf the Tsunami of emotions with ease and grace. Carried by understanding of loss through my own deep grief work, tapping into my inner reserves and the vast knowledge and collective wisdom of the childless community, I find strength I didn’t know I had. I have learnt to move with the grief, not against it. I build, I create, I connect. I feel purposeful, grounded, even expansive. And, I think….I am okay…this life I didn’t choose is still good and beautiful.
Then….. there are the days I drown in a puddle. Something small, and maybe even insignificant to most, a smell, an image, a song, and suddenly it is difficult to breathe, and I am disoriented. Wondering what happened and how do I carry this weight of loss and longing.
This is the paradox of lifelong childless grief. It can be enormous and microscopic all at once. I believe most of us are good at planning for the moments that are enormous and so we may become quite good are being able to surf the Tsunamis. We have strategies in place to deal with significant calendar dates such as Christmas, Easter, Mothers Day, etc. But, I find like so many I speak with, it is the unexpected moments; the way something triggers our senses or brings awareness to something long forgotten that catch us and we find ourselves drowning in puddles.
This does not mean you are having a set back in your journey. This is a normal part of the grief life.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love the ocean in all its forms and I like to visualize life as sailing on an ocean. Calm one day, choppy the next, but always holding awe, respect, beauty and strength. And just like the ocean grief is not linear. It doesn’t flow in one direction or reach a defined endpoint. The waves ebb and flow in a rhythm of their own.
I think this is also a great metaphor for the Dual Process model of grief. We move between a loss space and a normal (restoration) space. We create strategies to deal with the loss space which gives us the strength to be in normal space.
So, if like me, at times you find yourself drowning in a puddle, you are not losing progress. You are moving exactly as grief asks you to move—back and forth, moment by moment, carrying both loss and life together. It is growing in understanding of who you are and what you need to carry you through this lifelong experience of living with childlessness.
What I have found helpful is to meet myself with love, courage, and compassions wherever I am.
Celebrate Tsunami surf days. Congratulate yourself on your strength, resilience, and coping ability. On having the wisdom and foresight to plan for triggers, or the strength of your grief muscles to carry you through what is needed at that point in time.
On puddle days, you may choose to give yourself permission to feel what you feel without judgement. Create rituals of comfort. Reach out for supportive connection with a friend, a support group online or in-person, or a counsellor with lived experience who understands the nuances of this life.
Love and longing do not simply disappear with the passage of time. They show up in unexpected ways. But they do not define you or diminish your strength. There is space in the human heart and mind to hold everything. The love, the loss, the anger, the tenderness, the meaning you are making, the purpose that is unfolding, the glimmers of joy that lurk everywhere waiting to be noticed and grabbed with both hands.
Childless grief may not play fair. But you can be fair to yourself, by showing up with gentleness, patience, and the reminder that there is no “right” way to live this life.
And when life feels heavy, please know that you are not alone is navigating this vast ocean of childlessness.
Across the world, there are many who understand the quiet ache, the strength it takes to keep showing up to events and for people who simply don’t understand. Some of us are new to this ocean, some of us have navigated its waters for decades.
At World Childless Week we offer a space that is not about solutions but solidarity. We are not about fixing but about witnessing and letting you know that you are not alone.
And we honour each of you. For the courage it takes to step into this space, for how you navigate each day, and the life you are creating that is uniquely yours.
Wishing you much love and peace
Note : 6 minute video explaining the Dual Process of Grief: https://youtu.be/ElTFr2Qc6iM?si=Eg1jVTu6jOGfLWzK
