Why do we question our meaning and purpose if we have not been able to reproduce?
Is this something that parents ever question about their value and worth to society? Perhaps not. And the reason I think this is because of pronatalism, a practice that encourages people to have children, and holds them in high regard when they do.
For many years, society has existed in a patriarchal system. A system where men hold the power and women are largely excluded from it, their place being as a mother or housewife. I haven’t felt a strong sense of exclusion, as a woman, for a long time, as society has continued to evolve since the early 20th century, enabling women to vote, further their education, follow a career. And as these options have become more inclusive for women, we tend to forget that nature has not evolved at the same rate, leaving our fertility window extremely short. It’s easier for men in that respect, because they don’t have to consider their fertility window, and can happily continue forging ahead in their careers. But for women, there are choices to be made, even if they don’t know it at the time.
Society is full of people, policies, practices that encourage women to have children, and so it’s seen as something that will eventually happen. But what if it never happens? What if the woman chooses a career path and unwittingly misses her fertility window? What if she doesn’t find a suitable partner? What if she has health issues that prevent becoming a mother? What if a woman chooses not to have children, for whatever reason? What happens to her then?
I speak from experience when I say that I am one of those women. I followed society norms, for a while. I took advantage of the options available to women (that never used to be there). I furthered my education, forged a career for myself, found a suitable partner, got married, bought a house, did everything in the “expected order”. But I did not get my ultimate dream. My expected life was one that would include my own biological children. I was pregnant once, in my early 30s. Then another tragedy followed when my sister had to deliver her stillborn baby. Both of these happened in the same year and I was overwhelmed with grief. A while later, I tried IVF (but only once), in my mid-30s. I constantly think that I didn’t try hard enough, that I should have kept trying after my early miscarriage, that I should have tried IVF again after the failed attempt. I felt like a failure. But the truth is, back then I was a mess, but I didn’t realise it until 2 years after my natural pregnancy loss. Why did I feel like I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t try hard enough, that I was a failure? Because there are tons of ‘success stories’ in the media where women have had their miracle baby after several miscarriages and/or several rounds of IVF! Why do women put themselves through it? Pronatalism!
There are often times when I don’t feel like a proper woman or I feel invisible because I believe that other people do not see me as a proper adult. My thoughts and feelings seem not to be heard unless a mother says the same thing I am saying. Mothers are often seen as more mature and adding more value to society. This is not good for mothers either! If nothing else, it creates stress and anxiety for them too, because in society, they are now on a pedestal and all eyes are on them, so they might feel under pressure to say the right things, do the right things.
I often feel like I’m sitting on the side-lines watching someone else live. I’m an outsider, an ‘Other’. There are certain days in the calendar year that I find difficult to navigate; Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas!
I might be seen as having a lot of time on my hands and a lot of freedom to do whatever I want and whenever I want. But what parents don’t realise is the enormity of the heartache that us childless women live with EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. There are triggers everywhere! We’ll never get to hold our babies in our arms. We’ll never get to witness their little characters, see them grow and develop into little people. We’ll never get to know if they are more like Mum or Dad. We’ll never get the chance to take a first day at school photo. We’ll never get to watch them in plays or at sports day. We’ll never have that feeling of pride when they have worked hard and achieved what they set out to do. We’ll never see them go to college/University or choose another path to go down, never see them get married, have their own children (if they want them, can actually have them, find a suitable partner etc etc). Granted, we’ll also never get the constant worry that we’re not doing enough or being enough, or the heartache during the teenage years when they ‘hate’ you, pull faces at you or argue back at you.
So, yes we might have more free time and more disposable income. But we’re not laying in bed all day and going on holiday every week. Quite often, we feel stuck in grief and cannot do anything. There are tons of times that I have spent the day on the sofa using TV as an escapism from real life, then at the end of the day beat myself up for not going outside and enjoying the lovely weather, not going for a walk in nature, or to the seaside for the day. There are times I feel isolated and lonely in grief because society doesn’t understand, doesn’t ‘get it’. Friends have all gone on to have children of their own and suddenly you feel alien to them as well, like there is nothing in common any more. Your social circle is always decreasing until there is no one left that you can turn to in your darkest moments.
My rawest grief was in 2019 when I had the sudden realisation that I wouldn’t be a biological mother. It was 1 year after losing our cat who was 20 years old when she died. She was filling a void that I hadn’t really known was there, until she was gone! In those darkest days, I felt like I was staring into a deep dark hole, an abyss. My future looked like nothingness. What was once filled with hopes and dreams of having my own family, were suddenly gone. How can you plan for a future that wasn’t expected, that doesn’t fit with society norms? Yes, create our own norms. But this is a challenge in itself because it goes against conformity, against the tide of what others do. You need confidence to forge ahead with something non-conforming and I didn’t have any left.
It was also in 2019 that I stumbled across Gateway Women, read a few articles, watched a few TED talks by Jody Day, and decided to sign up and join the online community. I’d found my club! A club that no one actually wants to be a part of, but if you find yourself there, you will be met with the kindest, warmest, most sympathetic of souls that you can journey through life with. Because life is a roller coaster for us childless women as much as it is for mothers, and the grief doesn’t just come to an end. You find that grief takes a different shape as time goes by and/or there are more or different triggers, from the point in time of not becoming a mum, to another point in time of not becoming a grandmother. It never goes away. It’s something we have to live with. But by being in the same room as other women who are in the same situation as you (even though the route there might have been through a different door), you somehow feel less alone with your grief, less like an outsider, less lonely.
I also took the plunge to attend a meetup with some local GW in person and I came away with a positive feeling. Finally, I had found my tribe! Earlier this year, I also took part in a Reignite Weekend. I expected it to be emotionally tough but there were also some highs during the weekend. So, I felt more positive again after that. Despite us not being able to meet in person for the course, we have remained in contact via zoom and WhatsApp, and already talking about meeting up in person early next year! So, now I am involved in 2 groups of lovely ladies who all ‘get it’, who all ‘see me’ and who will be by my side on this rollercoaster of life. And it certainly makes it easier to navigate other relationships because now I have a balance and I don’t feel so overwhelmed anymore with only having mum friends :-)
I still don’t know who I am if I’m not a Mum, but I do know that I don’t have to carry this weight around on my own, and I still have time to figure it out. So, thank you Jody and thank you to all the lovely GWs that are in my life xx
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