Emma Bell
The beginning was like waking up with an open wound every day. I referred to it as indescribable sadness in one of my therapy sessions. It was sadness, loss, feeling bereft and grief. Feeling with a side order of feeling – and I had to let myself feel it all. What would the alternative have been? Self harm? Repression? Binge eating? Substances? Depression?
Having expected I would become a mother was the confrontation I was faced with. The questions started to emerge and reflection grew. What had my life been until this point? My relationships were cast in a new light. My own sense of self, too. Where had I been as an active agent in my life so far? How did I manage my intra and inter personal worlds? Could I learn to be more courageous and step into agency more? Did I need to?
Each friend’s pregnancy announcement felt like a sting. I muted people I couldn’t engage with. I became frustrated with people who showed little to no awareness of the impact they had when they put their children above everything else. I started to realise that I could decide what I was willing (and not) to be part of. Good old boundaries! Putting these in wasn’t always easy. I sometimes felt guilty or doubted myself. Did not being able to have kids mean I didn’t really like any kids any more? Should I be more forgiving of parents? Should I just try to rise above it?
Just a few friendships haven’t survived. I’m ok with it. When others really don’t see how much they value their offspring above everything else I tap out. It’s been a great lesson in remembering that you’re only in control of the things you’re in control of. Wishing someone could have foreseen that asking me to vote for their child’s art to win a competition when they haven’t asked a single question about me or my life for over a year was wasted energy. Instead I stood firm. I didn’t respond and I didn’t vote. It’s been ok to realise “I don’t care enough and I’m not in the business of making you happy”. Even better, I got over the feeling that I was being petty.
Over six years (since I had a hysterectomy that made me infertile) I have experienced several cycles of feeling things are going ok and then something happens that plunges me into the “oh no, grief again” phase. Sometimes really obvious things happen and I know they’ll have an effect (best friend and fellow cancer survivor becoming a parent for example). Other times, I get caught off guard and realise well after the event that I’ve been triggered. The latter I find harder to deal with but in all cases I’ve learnt, as above, I have to feel the feels or else the cycle won’t complete and I won’t move on. I talk (to myself and others) a lot about letting yourself feel versus resisting it. I have resisted so much feeling in my life so far and it’s always more exhausting than feeling the damn feelings.
Underneath a lot of my emotional experience is that deep desire to fit in and feel like I belong somewhere. Parenthood is a place many people find a sense of belonging. After a certain age “have you got kids” becomes a lazy conversation starter. It’s easy to feel you don’t belong. I’ve been on camping trips where the only thing connecting those attending is the fact they’ve got a child in the same year group (I don’t go to those any more because, boundaries, etc). Because I spent a lot of time processing my feelings around not being able to have children, I think it’s allowed me to start a process of reflection that ultimately led to a strengthened sense of self. Ok so I’m not a parent – who, then, am I? What do I like, how do I spend my time, what brings me joy?
Rarely has any of this felt like a straight line. When I’ve been in the midst of big feelings or being taken by surprise by a trigger it’s felt like going backwards or that I’m never going to feel a lightness of spirit again. I encourage anyone to take a step back and / or look at the bigger picture once in a while. Over time, how have things changed? Even a small step toward something that feels healing is encouraging and can be celebrated. Adopting a coaching mindset (as I’ve also trained as a coach during the last six years) has really helped with this. I look forward and consider the smallest step I need to take in pursuit of a particular thing. Small steps lead to progress over time and momentum builds.
Now being childless not by choice is not the dominant part of my identity. I’m a solo homeowner who takes really good financial care so I can support myself well as I get older. I’m a partner to someone who has children which, whilst being a trigger at times, also brings joy and the opportunity to be part of something I get a lot from. I’m passionate about volunteering and getting outdoors in nature. I read like it’s going out of fashion and am forever arranging dates to catch up with friends doing things we both enjoy. I’m a parkrunner and occasional half marathoner. I’m a bit of a sugar addict and will never tire of stopping to stroke a cat when out and about. I’m a complex and beautiful mix of my life so far with the exciting potential of what’s still to come.
Each day, month or year is an opportunity to see where I am now and acknowledge how far I’ve travelled. I don’t think the journey will ever be over but I’m proud of my capacity to come back to the idea that nothing stays the same forever.
Yes it’s possible to live well in the life you never expected. Life is what we make it. Not being able to have children can feel catastrophic but it does not have to be all that defines us. I’ve found the feelings get less intense over time. I’m hopeful and excited for the life still ahead of me.
