One woman’s quest for motherhood and a reflection on pregnancy loss.
I crave black and white thinking. I presume that plain sailing thoughts and decisions make for an easier, more comfortable state of human existence. I will never be a mum was the announcement of my teen-self. I think that type of ‘definite decision’ is a common admiration of the teen generation. As I reach the end of my 40’s I wish I could stretch back and grab some of that teen certainty.
A few factors drove such the decision at 14 years old, the primary reason being that I grew up in a house with an overload of children. At 14 I watched a menopausal mother struggle with constant housework, stress, tiredness, and a bunch of bold teenagers. She just constantly looked exhausted raising a family of eleven. Equally, the prospect of sex, conception, and labour “grossed me out”. The teen years passed as did the gross feelings. Today, I try to console myself that the announcement by a frightened 14-year-old girl did not define my childlessness. And it certainly did not define the social silence that exists around childlessness.
Instead, my childlessness is defined by many concepts, none of which are black & white. I first heard the term ‘circumstantial childlessness’ by Jody Day and I sobbed & sobbed in relief in understanding what it was. Divorce & other relationship breakdowns, spending my most fertile years in therapy recovering from a significant childhood loss and trauma, dating sperm-protective men in my 30’s and 40’s and finally the diagnosis of a serious autoimmune condition that compromised my fertility all played a factor in my childlessness not by choice.
I could write an encyclopaedia on my escapades of a 20 year journey in ‘trying to get pregnant’. Alongside the isolated grief and loss is courage, frankness, open-mindedness, good relationships, and a lot of fun. On one occasion I set myself up a profile on a dating site that boldly typed ‘don’t get in touch if you’re not interested in having babies & starting a family’. My friends thought I was mad. But I was 36, I did not have time to play romance for 3 years. Interestingly I received 3 responses.
What I want to talk about in this article though, is the invitation to others to recognise childlessness as a significant pregnancy loss concept. My 20year battle with pregnancy loss has taught me it is easier to talk about infertility, miscarriage, still births, infant mortality than to adequately address the finality and profound grief that accompanies childlessness.
Childlessness is a permanent stamp that nobody, including myself, wants to surrender to. Is it too much failure to admit to in a world that is obsessed with success, achievements, and goals? To continue to hope beyond hope, creates a postponement of self-comfort whilst navigating a secret and unbearable grief. Weekends are hardest for me. Many friends spend time with their children & grandchildren. I resent it. Depression, self-destructive behaviour, and hopelessness became common companions.
I discovered though that some of those around me were equally uncomfortable with childlessness. It seems difficult to equate childlessness with a genuine aspect of pregnancy loss. That is the toughest part of being a childless person; the social secrecy of it.
The hurricane journey of infertility and pregnancy loss exists along a continuum of two opposites. The two opposites allow for acknowledged, relevant and important in social discussions. On one side exists the positive solutions: IVF, sperm donation, frozen eggs, the miracle births born because of prayer or a couple’s efforts in ‘stop trying’, fostering and adoption etc. Solutions. Society likes solutions. On the other hand of the spectrum is what I refer to as socially accepted grief. Here we have the miscarriages, still births and infant mortality and failed IVF treatment.
Let me elaborate, flowers are sent to the colleague who is on sick leave after a miscarriage – and rightly so? Relatives show off their new tattoo remembering the miscarriage they had last year. Certain gravestones will publicly announce the huge love, comfort and support given to a woman/couple/family in the aftermath of stillbirth and/or infant mortality- again rightly so.
But there is another cauldron of grief associated with pregnancy loss. One such cauldron is childlessness and at 48years of age I have surrendered to it. It is the single most heart-breaking experience of my entire life.
But I do plead to wider society, when you speak of your pregnancy losses, feel free to ask me about mine too? Hopefully, I too will gain the courage to talk about it. This is a start.
Roisin