Louise Clooney
Poppy was thirteen in July this year. She is the one dog I call my baby. I’m not her mum (obviously) but she’s my baby.
I’ve never been a “pet mum” type of person or gone in for calling myself mummy to my dogs. But with Poppy it is different.
Poppy being another year older marks an important point in my life.
Thirteen years ago. Well, roughly thirteen years ago. Not to the day. I don’t actually know the exact date it happened. It wasn’t one to mark on the calendar. But for ease I’ll say thirteen years.
Thirteen years ago I was smacked in the face with the knowledge that I would never be a mum.
“You have no viable embryos”
“Your body has reached the end of its ivf journey”
No child would ever call me mummy.
Thirteen years ago I became childless.
Before that point I didn’t have children but thirteen years ago I became childless. It’s a different thing. I didn’t have children and then just like that, I was childless. Trust me. It feels very different and it is very different. It hurt. It is no exaggeration to say I was heartbroken. Devastated. My useless body had failed me. I was grief stricken. What a big fat fucking failure. I silently raged against the world. I hated it but I hated myself more.
Over the thirteen years I’ve heard some parents make remarkable comments.
“Aren’t you lucky to not have children” - at the same time as telling me how it’s a love like no other.
“You must have so much spare time” - at the same time as telling me how busy and fulfilling their life is.
“You’re so lucky to be able to lie in bed for as long as you want at weekends”
There are lots more but I’m going to stop at the lying in bed one because after the devastating call and the follow up appointment at the clinic, I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to. What was the point? It certainly didn’t seem like a positive! I had two beautiful dogs at the time- Daisy and Biscuit. When I did drag my pathetic excuse for a woman out of bed, Biscuit, my lab, would follow me around. She knew I was sad. This was sweet and lovely and comforting, but didn’t distract from the huge grief that was consuming me.
It was not long before one morning my partner said - shall we look for another Bichon puppy? We had lost a 16 year old Bichon in January.
Yes! I said. I looked straight away. I searched and searched. I wanted one now. I simply couldn’t wait.
And there was one little Bichon girl from a massive litter of ten in Wales, still available, and ready to go in a matter of days. I planned, bought stuff and chose her name- Poppy. Not very original said my partner. That’s her name I said.
And off we went to get her at the weekend. She cried the whole way home and Daisy and Biscuit were less than impressed but I was over the moon.
I was able to think of something else.
I am not saying for a minute that she cured my grief. Of course not. But in those days she saved me from a very dark place and helped me put one foot in front of the other. Now there was the tiniest chink in the dark consuming cloud of grief that was hanging over me.
Thirteen years have passed and today I’m ok. This simplifies what has been a very rocky thirteen years but I am ok.
I still class myself as childless. It doesn’t consume me but it is a part of me. I have been through a grieving process and I don’t say that lightly. I understand what grief can be and have experienced grief in the “traditional” sense. I did grieve, I lost the opportunity to be a mum, lost a life I thought I would live, it was gone in an instant- one phone call I’ll never forget.
I know some will question the idea of grieving for something/someone that never existed. Question away. It was grief. I lived it and there’s lots of other woman who have lived it, and many who are currently living it.
We do need to change the conversations around having babies.
I wish people would stop asking and prying. It’s so damn rude. And insensitive.
If people choose not to have children- guess what? that’s their choice. Not anyone else’s. Keep your nose out. Don’t give an opinion. Chances are they’ve thought about their choice.
A huge amount of women like me who were born in the 70s do not and will not have children. We are not less. We are not selfish. We have not failed. We do know love. We do have empathy. We do feel. We do have a stake in the future.
Thirteen years ago Poppy was my saviour. I had to get out of bed. I had to do things to look after this beautiful little puppy. I had to stop crying. She gave me a focus and saved me.
I look at the person in this photo, I’m so happy to hold my puppy but also broken, devastated and more than a little lost.
Being a mum is what I thought I would do, and I obviously believed I would be a brilliant mum to boot, so it takes time to see that the other path is ok.
Then slowly I found that it’s better than ok and then one day I turned around and I was living a life I was happy with. It’s another date that I don’t know, but it happened one day at one point. I take joy in other people’s children, they stopped seeming like the consolation prize and I genuinely enjoy spending time with them and enjoy handing them back.
There are still times I wonder “what if”. I wonder if I should have tried harder (not really sure what I mean by this, or how I could have tried harder at IVF) or done more. Thirteen years on and the wondering can still be highly irrational.
I still think about my child- truth is I’m not that keen on babies and was much more excited at the prospect of a person emerging from the baby. So I think about my 3yr old, my 7yr old and my 13 year old, always a girl, always boosting her confidence, building her up, giving her a voice. I know why I have these thoughts. I did a lot of thinking and soul searching about why I wanted to be a mum. Think I’ve got that covered.
So when you meet someone new please don’t ask “the question” without thinking carefully about it first
“Do you have children?”
Thirteen years ago the newly childless me would answer with bluster along the lines of - “oh god, children, no, not me, urgh, children- no thank you!!”
Now my answer is simply - “no”
I don’t try and fill the slightly awkward silence that follows such a short answer. I don’t answer the slightly confused look that creeps across the face of the questioner. I also don’t ask it back. I just say no. If someone wants to ask more, I will gladly tell tell them more. I am honest and transparent now because I can be. I’m unlikely to burst into tears (although you never know- menopause is a bitch) so I simply tell the truth and I don’t give two shits if it makes you feel awkward. I spent years feeling awkward.
Last thing I want to say- please don’t make assumptions about women without children. Some will be childfree, some will be childless and some won’t fit neatly into those headings. It’s a huge complex issue, we don’t need your sympathy or your pity. A little bit of understanding is enough.
So to Poppy- stubborn, difficult, and the grumpiest dog I’ve known. My thirteen year old baby. She absorbed a huge amount of my pain and I will be forever thankful.
The one who helped me move forward - my beautiful Poppy dog.
