Marie

I am a 50-year-old childless married woman. I stopped trying to conceive about 10 years ago. Before that I did a few years of In Vitro Fertilization treatments, and I had several early miscarriages. Becoming a mother was my main dream in life, and 10 years ago, I was told I would never be a biological mother.

For the last 18 years I have been working as a speech language pathologist, assessing and treating young children with developmental disorders and helping their families get through the new reality of knowing that their children have a disability. Of course, since I have been dealing with young parents, the question “Do you have kids?” has come up several times over the years. My responses to this question and how I feel about this question, has evolved over the years.

In the active phase of my grieving, when I was asked this question, my heart space would tighten, my throat would render me unable to speak, tears would well up in my eyes. I could not even answer the question and I changed the topic. Somehow, I believed if I spoke, I would fall to pieces in a puddle on the floor.

Then I went to get help and support from the groups Femmes Sans Enfant and World Childless Week. As my grieving pains were less intense and as I found my value and my identity as a childless person, I started to be able to speak up and answer this question: “Do you have kids?”. I rehearsed my responses in advance, I found this a reassuring ritual rather than be frazzled and caught off guard for answers. My answers would vary depending on how I was feeling that day. Sometimes I would say: “No I don’t have kids, life had other plans for me”, other times: “Unfortunately, no”, or: “I’m sorry sensitive topic for me, let’s change the subject” (on my bad days). In all these answers, I am either justifying myself or I am sharing my feelings on the subject.

In more recent years, my grief regarding motherhood is now quite minimal, although still present. It will always be present. I have made peace with that. I cannot and will not negate my childless journey, it is part of me and my identity. When people ask me now if I have kids, I simply say “No”. I am no longer offended or hurt by the question. I think people are simply curious. Parents also want to connect with others who are parents and when they hear my answer, I perceive they are disappointed. For one or two seconds, they look at me with shock. Some even verbalize it: “Oh, I assumed you had kids”. Sometimes I talk about my experiences with my nieces and nephews and later on parents falsely remember what I told them and they think I said I had kids of my own. So when they tell me: “Oh, I thought you said you had kids?”, I tell them “No”. I don’t add anything anymore.“No” is a full sentence.

I do though still get a twinge in my heart space when I am asked “Do you have kids?”, but it is no longer due to my childlessness, it is due to people’s judgment of my situation and their need to ask me this question at all.