We became Childless Not By Choice in 2019 after 6 years of trying to conceive (TTC) and IVF. It wasn’t the endless drugs, needles or scans that did it for us, it was the uncertainty, the emotional distress, the cycles of hope and despair. My body and mind couldn’t take anymore. My chronic illnesses and mental health problems flared and we knew enough was enough, we had to put my health first so made the heart-breaking decision to stop. We are still relatively new to CNBC community and finding our way along a new path but we felt our initial wash of grief was beginning to fade.

However, we were thrown a curveball this year, when we learnt that my husband needed major heart surgery to repair a leaky heart valve and an aneurysm. We had known that he would need this at some point, so were semi prepared, but it was still a shock to the system. When he attended Papworth (a heart and lung specialist hospital in Cambridge) in April to meet his surgeon, he was given a booklet about the procedure and the risks, which contained stats about the success of the operation but also what could go wrong. As soon as I read about these tiny chances of the unthinkable happening (1 or 2%) my mind went into practicality overdrive. I didn’t want to think the worst, but at the same time I knew that I wouldn’t be able to rest and think positively until we had sorted out our affairs and put our Wills and Power of Attorney in place. Looking back now, I think it was my way of coping with the shock and emotional response of such a big life event for us both.

Talking about death, dying or becoming so severely ill that you can’t advocate for yourself, is still a taboo subject in the UK and met with dismissive comments such as ‘you’ve got a good few years in you yet!’. We knew it wouldn’t be easy and neither of us are particularly sentimental or like to keep hold of things, (in fact we both love a good spring clean and clear out!) but the few weeks that it took to get our documents written, signed, approved were emotional ones.

We were forced to think about who we would leave our possessions to when we are no longer here and obviously not having children of our own to pass our things onto hurt so much. There’s no way around it, it’s a blow. It was a process that we had to go through, but a process that again highlighted our Childlessness and brought our grief back to the forefront of our minds. I realised that the grief we thought was fading was still very much there and it probably always will be, waiting for these triggers to bring it right back to the surface again.

This also led to conversations about one of the reasons our Childlessness hurts so much - being alone in older age. We were forced to think of what we would do and how we would cope without any children to ‘look after us’ (not that this is guaranteed for people with children either!) especially with our health problems. We have now put plans in place for our older years to make things as easy as possible for ourselves, one of which involves moving from our current house to a bungalow in about 20 years and protecting our house from being gobbled up by care home fees by becoming ‘tennants in common’ so we can leave something to our nieces and nephews once we are gone.

One of the things that I feel saddest about not being able to pass on, isn’t a material possession. I am a ‘Freeman’ of the city of Norwich, an honour that dates back to the 1300s. The freemen were the governing body of the city and were granted special rights to trade freely and conduct business (not the Freemason’s, they are a different organisation, that people often muddle it with!). Most of the privileges of the ‘freedom’ have now disappeared such as grazing cattle, enjoying trading rights, voting in elections and being hung by a silk rope should the need arise! I can however, drive a flock of sheep through the city if I desire (!) and the associated charity gives educational grants to families of Freemen as well as to those in financial hardship. We traced our freedom of the city back to an ancestor who was a Cordwainer (shoemaker) and then it was passed down through the generations from father to son, until it got to my Dad who has 2 daughters. We thought that is where the story would end but about 15 years ago, the rules were changed and women were allowed to become ‘Freemen’ of the city too. Knowing it would have meant a lot to my late Grandfather, I went along to the ceremony with my Dad and became a ‘Freeman’ of the city. The Freemen generously paid for a percentage of my university degree funding, paid towards equipment for a charity trek in Peru and I am considering asking for some funding towards an electric wheelchair which I find myself now in need of. These monetary gifts have been a privilege but it is not their loss I feel sad about. It hurts the most when I think about the look of pride in my Dad’s eye on that day when he passed the honour onto me that I will never get to experience as well as the sense of guilt that I feel about not being about to continue this family legacy.

Now that the hard, emotional work of the Wills and LPA are done, we intend to file them away and live in the present moment and make the most of the here and now (once my husband has had his op anyway!). When my Gran died a few years ago, we were allowed to pick something from her jewellery box to keep if we wanted. I chose an amber necklace and earring set, which was her favourite stone, so would always remind me of her. In my usual practical fashion, I decided to change the old-fashioned heavy gold settings to brighter more modern silver at a jewellers. I wanted to wear it myself and enjoy it, rather than tuck it away in a drawer for years on end. What’s the point in that anyway? After all, the present is all that exists, the past is full of memories and the future nothing but a dream.

Emma Manser

Image by Jill Wellington on Pixabay