Maree
Dear Santa
It’s been a while since I’ve written. A long while. You might not know, but I used to be one of your biggest fans. In my house, you enjoyed Christmas cake and whisky, which I would excitedly leave near the fireplace on Christmas Eve. The Night Before Christmas was one of my favourite stories and I was always chuffed that until I was 10, we lived in a house with a real chimney. I loved everything about Christmas. It was my favourite holiday and time of the year with my family.
Fast forward to adulthood and I still embraced my festive spirit. I was always the first to start decorating and play Christmas hits in November. I planned presents and carols and recipes and surprises. But in my 30’s I was hit with sudden unimaginable trauma and very quickly found myself alone, going through a horrific divorce. This would have been enough, given the circumstances of what my partner had done, but I was then diagnosed with infertility and early menopause within a few short months.
Santa, at this point I must be honest and say that I was very hurt when you suddenly lost my address. In fact, for quite a while I felt so much shame about my failures, I thought perhaps I had gone on the Naughty List. The gift and joy of being a mother, the Christmas present I wanted more than anything, was suddenly out of my reach.
Yet in the midst of my heartbreak, everyone else seemed to be receiving the gift of parenthood. I had always been raised to think determination could lead me to achieve my goals, but motherhood wasn’t happening, no matter how desperately I tried. Meanwhile, each December I could see more babies dressed as elves and mums staying up late to make fake reindeer footprints in the back yard or teach their kids Christmas carols. And then there were the endless social media posts about the beautiful milestones of first Santa photos or end of year school celebrations.
Divorced and with many solo failed IVF attempts behind me, by the time I was 40, I dreaded Christmas. It was extremely triggering and the fact that significant anniversaries of losses happened to coincide and fall in early December was a nightmare. It’s taken some years, lots of work, and a better acceptance of riding the waves of chronic grief, for me to finally get some mojo back. Well, to actually find a whole new type of mojo to be honest, as things will never be the way they were or what I had hoped for.
I didn’t get a Plan A, B or C but I am starting to make a Plan Z that is better than I could have hoped for and certainly the future looks brighter than I thought it could be in my darkest days. In fact, last year I ticked off my bucket list trip and headed to Europe for the Christmas Markets. It filled me with both pride and joy to reclaim my favourite holiday and December 2025 found me lugging home a ginormous suitcase of decorations, as I reinvented Christmas 2.0 with a new Scandinavian style tree and happy trip memories.
So even though we’ve still got a few months to go until your busy season, I’m getting in early with my wish list. This year, instead of wrapping something in shiny paper and sending it my way on December 24 rolls, can you please deliver this letter to someone you think needs it?
There might be a woman who is childless not by choice who truly believes that her world has ended. And now that I can see that the light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train, but I can move out of its way and limp towards a bus travelling to a different destination, I’d like to share my small spark of hope. Here are the 10 things that I have learnt:
1. Grief is unbearable, but your heart will bear it- For a long time I had both physical and mental symptoms of heartbreak constantly. Although time won’t ever take away my desire to be a mother, I am surviving and beginning to thrive. There are still dark days, but I get through them. Of course, I never believed this when other people said it to me, so feel free to ignore this first point until you discover it yourself. But you will, I promise.
2. Just because point 1 means I am inventing a new future, doesn’t mean this was “meant to be”. I fucking hate that expression and post traumatic growth has been because of my resilience, not because my destiny was not to be a mother. Please brace yourself for the onslaught of possibly well meant (although sometimes not) and appallingly insensitive and uneducated comments you will get. Pronatalism is a real concept sadly.
3. Family is about more than your own biological children- Of course anyone can say this, but no one really appreciates its full weight until you are childless not by choice. In my case I have a niece and nephew, long term friends who are sisters from another mother and am fortunate to have a supportive sibling, amazing parents and extended family. It takes effort and patience, but I nurture these relationships and although they will never replace my own child, they help. And I have a gorgeous dog- my most treasured flatmate who brings endless, unconditional love into my life.
4. Find small ways to laugh- Even a minute of belly laughing or a second of unadulterated joy at being in the moment, when you can give yourself and your nervous system a break. I recommend time with old friends and comedy festivals, but you do you and find what works.
5. Claim your language- It’s a little thing that is actually a big thing, so like all things related to our identity, choice and control matters. I am childless not by choice, have a furry family member but don’t like being called a “dog mum” and don’t believe I am “mothering” but I am nurturing and maternal. It takes a while, but you will know what feels right and it’s ok to have the courage to tell people, even though these things are often unspoken in a pronatalist world.
6. Joy is important- I’m still discovering ways to find this in my new 2.0 life but the helpful tip to think about what you loved as a child and can reclaim, is a good one. I may soon learn to ride a horse, which was always a dream. And I sing and dance for fun.
7. Help seek your own way- I have chosen not to join online communities on a regular basis or to do group gatherings. I do like watching podcasts from others with lived experience, have a fabulous counsellor and have one good friend who is also childless not by choice, so we can have frank conversations.
8. People will surprise you- I’ve had long term friendships fade when people lacked empathy, some strangers have impressed me and my relationship with my niece and nephew is always an ever-changing delight. So, whilst it’s a mixed bag, give yourself permission to navigate relationships in a way that works for you. I’m still on the hunt for a childless not by choice bestie who lives locally, as it is hard when so many people have their own families. Make this a work in progress as it seems to be a lifelong task.
9. Purpose and meaning matter more now- I’m still working on this but am fortunate that my career as a helping professional “helps” me too. It doesn’t need to be ginormous, but it is harder when you don’t have your own children to focus on raising, so having something to focus on and goals to work towards is important. Gardening and raising my dog from a puppy have been invaluable to me.
10. The X Factor- We are all unique and and what works for one person doesn’t work for others. You will discover something different, that no one had suggested or will have your own way of moving forward with the grief. Just like I have rediscovered Christmas, I hope that you can share your wisdom, when you find that elusive thing that helps you feel just a little bit like yourself again.
From someone who believes in a little Christmas magic.
