How did I end up single and childless at 40? I ask myself this everyday. I wake up each morning wondering how this happened, and I go to bed each night with no concrete answer.
However, I can certainly speculate. And oh, do I speculate!
Perhaps I was too shy or too introverted as a teenager and young adult. Maybe my religious upbringing made me limit my options to someone of the same faith (although even today that is still my ideal). Perhaps it has something to do with not growing up with any good role models to see what a healthy relationship looks like.
One thing I am certain of is that a big part of it has to do with marrying a man I shouldn’t have married when I was almost 26. I am still trying to forgive myself for that. I didn’t know what I know now. He lied to me about so many things. There were red flags, but at the time I thought they were little things that could be handled. I never imagined that he would abuse me mentally, emotionally, and physically. He manipulated and charmed his way into my life just as easily as he tore me apart and discarded me. Equally as awful was when he decided he no longer wanted to have children with me. (That was half the reason why I left, but ironically I ended up childless anyway!) After years of couple’s counseling and turning myself inside out to try and make life with a narcissist work, I left just shy of 29. Back then when 30 was on my horizon, I could hear my biological clock ticking louder and louder. I knew I had to get back out there, and quickly.
In the middle of my annulment process, I met a man. We dated for a year. He talked about marriage and having kids. I was filled with such hope! I could still end up “happily ever after” with a husband and children! Then he ended it - out of the blue - saying something about how he had to find himself. If my ex husband put me in the coffin, that guy ... He nailed me in. I was 32. And I had a sickening feeling that that was it for me.
I was so broken by that point. I had so much trauma from my abusive marriage and the divorce, and the shock of the second relationship not working out either was just as devastating. Those two experiences ended up having severe effects on my health and well being. I was very afraid of what could happen with the next guy. It got to the point where even just talking to men on dating apps made my heart race. And going on dates - well, that caused panic attacks.
Still, I pushed on. I joined more dating apps. I attended co-ed social groups. I went to church events. I asked my friends to set me up. It was all so stressful, demeaning, and disappointing.
Nevertheless, I kept at it. I worked on healing myself. I rediscovered who I was as a single person. I went to counseling. I read books. I joined groups. I took care of my health. I deepened my friendships. I bought a home. I rescued a dog. I got my career back on track. While the scars of the past will always remain, I was finally able to start confidently dating again.
However, I guess my healing took too long or came at an inopportune time. I was in my late 30s and suddenly in some weird dating limbo. Men my age weren’t interested. They wanted a younger woman who was more likely to be able to provide them with children. At the same time, there were men my father’s age also looking for a younger woman. The few single men my age that I did come across were either not right for me, or they had children. I had just started grieving being childless and could not (and still cannot) take that on. Then the pandemic hit and the last two years before I turned 40 made dating nearly impossible.
Now here I am - single and childless - wondering if there is anything I could have done in my past to have changed my trajectory in life. The funny thing is that when I read what I wrote here above, I see that I actually did do a lot! Yet somehow I still blame myself for my circumstances. I also still allow others to blame me. When they tell me, “You won’t meet anyone just sitting around at home,” or, “You’ve got to put yourself out there more,” I go into a frenzy. Trying to figureout how to meet a suitable man takes up hours of my life. When they tell me to “just adopt” or “just get a sperm donor,” I question if I am making a mistake in choosing not to be a single mom. I am wracked with guilt for wanting the whole package - the husband and then the kids. I wonder if I will regret it someday, despite thoroughly thinking it through and knowing in my heart of hearts that without a husband, there could be no kids for me.
Some of the hardest things in addition to all of the above (in no particular order)
have been:
The loneliness that comes with having no partner.
All of the milestones missed from not being a mother.
Not being able to give my parents grandchildren.
Never fitting in anywhere.
The assumptions that I chose this life, and being judged for it.
Being blamed for not doing enough.
The disenfranchised grief: “Be happy with what you DO have!”
Losing friends to couplehood and motherhood.
Teaching other people’s children and never getting to teach my own.
Enduring countless wedding and baby showers.
The immense fear of aging alone.
Watching everybody else seemingly so easily get what I so desperately want.
I don’t know what the future will hold for me. It has been hard enough grieving not being a mother, but imagining a life without ever having a loving man at my side is an excruciating double-whammy. I am trying to live my best life here and now in the present. Some days are harder than others, but finding Gateway Women (Thank you, Jody Day!) and World Childless Week (Thank you, Stephanie Joy Phillips!) have been immensely helpful.
May we each find continued healing in this unexpected journey.
Anonymous
Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash