We are all in various stages of acceptance in our childless lives – from thriving, comfort, and acceptance, to grief, anger, loss, and sadness. Many will often experience both ends of the spectrum acknowledging our childless perks one day, then feeling grief and sadness over a triggering moment the next. There is no doubt that we will mourn the babies we never got to have for the rest of our lives.

Admittedly, I am well down the path of acceptance, but I still experience moments that press on that sore spot. I recently had a socially distanced, outside work team get-together that included a surprise baby shower for my co-worker. Now, I avoid baby showers on principle (that’s my trigger), but I wanted to socialize with my team, so I went. I was very aware of my social silence during the baby gifts portion of the evening, but I did not run to the bathroom in a fit of tears as I used to do.

So, how did I get here? How did I get to a place of healing? I used my voice. In the words of sociologist and shame researcher, Brené Brown,

Shame cannot survive being spoken. It cannot tolerate having words wrapped around it. What it craves is secrecy, silence, and judgement. Shame derives its power from being unspeakable.

I began to break my shame around being childless not by choice by speaking about it.

I remember the first time I posted about it on social media. I was terrified. I was vulnerable. It took a heck of a lot of courage to put myself out there. I knew there was always the possibility that more judgement and condemnation would come my way, but as I’ve learned, my vulnerability has resulted in connection with others and the removal of shame around being childless. Those who took the time to read my posts acknowledged my courage and vulnerability, and one of the most common responses is that they learn something from me, and in turn have more empathy from others. And, in turn, I felt seen, heard, and valued. To quote Brené Brown once again,

If we share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive.

My first post happened about 3 years ago, and my courage has turned into a strength, and I share a lot now. My shame in being childless not by choice no longer exists. I still get triggered, I still think about the children I dreamed of, and I will always identify as “childless not by choice”, but I no longer feel shame. Breaking my silence has allowed me to own my story, acknowledge it, voice it, converse about it, build connections, and feel empathy from others, and I continue to move forward.

Robyn Jamieson-Voss