Last Tuesday, I played the piano at church for the funeral of an 87-year-old man who had lots of friends and a very interesting life. His wife, Rose, had suffered through a journey similar to mine as Alzheimer's Disease gradually took her husband away. Until I read the obituary, I did not know that Rose and her husband Bob never had children. Seeing Rose at church services and luncheons, I had assumed she was a grandma like everybody else. But no. At the funeral, the family didn't even fill one pew. There were just Rose, her brother-in-law and his wife and a nephew. We still had a pretty good crowd because Bob had many friends, and the Knights of Columbus paraded in their regalia, but not much family.
I don't know why they didn't have children. I didn't know them very well, and the funeral wasn't a good time to ask, "Hey, how come you don't have any kids?" God knows none of us enjoy that question.They married relatively late in life. Bob was 42, and I'm assuming Rose was about the same age. Maybe they just couldn't get pregnant. Infertility treatments had not yet become common.
One of the speakers at the funeral was Gina, a young woman whom Bob had taught to play the accordion. She said Bob had always wanted a wife and two girls, and she became one of those girls. She sat with the family during the service, her restless little boy making everyone smile with his black suit and bow tie and red rubber boots.
When she asked him to become her teacher, Gina said, Bob started to say no, then told her he thought God was giving him one of the girls he had always wanted. So maybe the answer is that you accept the family you're given, through birth or otherwise.
It's not the same as your own, but perhaps God has placed young people in your life who can help fill that emptiness. Rest in peace, Bob, up in heaven playing the "Beer Barrel Polka."
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
'He made me have an abortion'
Relax, that headline does not refer to me. I have never been pregnant, never had an abortion.
It refers to the many women I have interviewed or read about who aborted their only pregnancies because the men in their lives insisted they weren't ready for children. This makes me so angry. The question isn't whether or not one believes abortion is wrong. The question is whether somebody else has the right to tell you what to do with the fetus in your own body. What man is worth letting them make such a huge decision for you? It's the worst form of abuse. In most of these cases, the women were not teenagers. They were grown women who in other circumstances would have welcomed a baby. But because Mr. I Don't Want to Be a Dad said no--or not yet, which eventually became no--they aborted.
They thought they would keep the man by aborting the baby, but in almost every case, the man dumped them anyway. And the women never got over it, especially when they lost their only chance to be mothers.
Laura always thought she'd have children, but she didn't marry until she was 29. Her stepchildren were nearly as old as she was. Her husband seemed to want more children, but when she conceived, he changed his mind. "It's either the baby or me," he told her. Remembering this ten years later, she begins to cry. Her husband assured her they could try again later, when it was a better time, so she had an abortion. But every time she tried to talk about having a baby, he refused to discuss it. "That attitude went on for seven more years." She pauses to blow her nose. "I just turned to him one day and said, 'Bob, are we or are we not going to have kids.?' And he said no."
Sarah did it more than once. Shortly after she left her home country to be with Clay, she discovered she was pregnant. Clay said it was too soon. They needed time to get a house, to become more settled in together. She agreed to have an abortion, thinking there would be another chance. But the day she came home from the hospital, he told her, "No, we're not going to have kids."
Sarah was 33 then and still hoping, but he didn't change his mind. In fact, the same scenario happened again. This time she had deliberately stopped taking her birth control pills. He was furious and insisted she have another abortion. She did. "He talks so reasonably," she said, her voice trialing off.
Grrr.
I have interviewed other women who were comfortable with their decision to have an abortion. They had not planned to have children and believe they did the right thing. For example, Joyce and her husband Tom got pregnant when her IUD failed. They agreed to abort and believe they made the right choice.
I'm not here to debate whether abortion is right or wrong or whether or not it should be legal. It's a personal choice. What I'm saying is that if you are the one who is pregnant, you have to be the one to make the decision. Don't let anybody force you into it, especially if you know you want children. If the man in your life is insisting you have an abortion that you don't want, dump him, not the baby.
What do you think about all this?
It refers to the many women I have interviewed or read about who aborted their only pregnancies because the men in their lives insisted they weren't ready for children. This makes me so angry. The question isn't whether or not one believes abortion is wrong. The question is whether somebody else has the right to tell you what to do with the fetus in your own body. What man is worth letting them make such a huge decision for you? It's the worst form of abuse. In most of these cases, the women were not teenagers. They were grown women who in other circumstances would have welcomed a baby. But because Mr. I Don't Want to Be a Dad said no--or not yet, which eventually became no--they aborted.
They thought they would keep the man by aborting the baby, but in almost every case, the man dumped them anyway. And the women never got over it, especially when they lost their only chance to be mothers.
Laura always thought she'd have children, but she didn't marry until she was 29. Her stepchildren were nearly as old as she was. Her husband seemed to want more children, but when she conceived, he changed his mind. "It's either the baby or me," he told her. Remembering this ten years later, she begins to cry. Her husband assured her they could try again later, when it was a better time, so she had an abortion. But every time she tried to talk about having a baby, he refused to discuss it. "That attitude went on for seven more years." She pauses to blow her nose. "I just turned to him one day and said, 'Bob, are we or are we not going to have kids.?' And he said no."
Sarah did it more than once. Shortly after she left her home country to be with Clay, she discovered she was pregnant. Clay said it was too soon. They needed time to get a house, to become more settled in together. She agreed to have an abortion, thinking there would be another chance. But the day she came home from the hospital, he told her, "No, we're not going to have kids."
Sarah was 33 then and still hoping, but he didn't change his mind. In fact, the same scenario happened again. This time she had deliberately stopped taking her birth control pills. He was furious and insisted she have another abortion. She did. "He talks so reasonably," she said, her voice trialing off.
Grrr.
I have interviewed other women who were comfortable with their decision to have an abortion. They had not planned to have children and believe they did the right thing. For example, Joyce and her husband Tom got pregnant when her IUD failed. They agreed to abort and believe they made the right choice.
I'm not here to debate whether abortion is right or wrong or whether or not it should be legal. It's a personal choice. What I'm saying is that if you are the one who is pregnant, you have to be the one to make the decision. Don't let anybody force you into it, especially if you know you want children. If the man in your life is insisting you have an abortion that you don't want, dump him, not the baby.
What do you think about all this?
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
He says no kids; what do you do?
Last week, I shared my stories of how my two husbands didn't want children. I should have mentioned that some of the guys I dated in-between would have been happy to father my children, but they weren't the kind of men I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
Several of you have already commented on your situation. Check the two previous posts to read what they said. There's still time to join the conversation. Has your partner told you he or she doesn't want to have kids with you? Or is it just implied by their actions and reactions? How do you respond? Do you say, okay, I love you enough that I can accept your decision? Do you say, uh-oh, that's a deal-breaker? Do you accidentally-on purpose stop using birth control? Do you tell everybody in the world what a rat he is but stay with him anyway? Are you afraid to bring it up?
This is a tough situation, but the one thing I learned is that moping in silence or complaining to everyone but the person who could help solve the problem doesn't fix anything. So what do you do?
It's not always a question of wanting different things. What if your partner would like children but is physically unable to have them? Do you love him or her enough to stay with them anyway?
I'm looking forward to your comments.
Next time (drum roll), we're going to talk about abortion.
***
Meanwhile, several publications are reporting on a recent study that said married couples with children are happier than those without. Here's a link from the Vancouver Sun. I don't know if I buy it. See what you think.
Several of you have already commented on your situation. Check the two previous posts to read what they said. There's still time to join the conversation. Has your partner told you he or she doesn't want to have kids with you? Or is it just implied by their actions and reactions? How do you respond? Do you say, okay, I love you enough that I can accept your decision? Do you say, uh-oh, that's a deal-breaker? Do you accidentally-on purpose stop using birth control? Do you tell everybody in the world what a rat he is but stay with him anyway? Are you afraid to bring it up?
This is a tough situation, but the one thing I learned is that moping in silence or complaining to everyone but the person who could help solve the problem doesn't fix anything. So what do you do?
It's not always a question of wanting different things. What if your partner would like children but is physically unable to have them? Do you love him or her enough to stay with them anyway?
I'm looking forward to your comments.
Next time (drum roll), we're going to talk about abortion.
***
Meanwhile, several publications are reporting on a recent study that said married couples with children are happier than those without. Here's a link from the Vancouver Sun. I don't know if I buy it. See what you think.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
He said he didn't want any more kids
Thursday, I wrote about how my first husband, Jim, didn't want children. It was a gradual, non-stated thing until I thought I might be pregnant. Then he said he'd leave if I was pregnant.
Our divorce a year or so later had nothing to do with that, but under the rules of the Catholic church, I was able to obtain an annulment on the grounds that he refused to have children. The diocesan tribunal in San Francisco ruled it an invalid marriage.
So, three years later, along came Fred, cute, funny, loving, responsible, gainfully employed, all the stuff a girl wants in a husband. The first time we made love, I rushed to put my diaphragm in, but it proved unnecessary. He had had a vasectomy after his third child was born. After we got engaged, we talked about reversing the vasectomy or adopting a child, but finally he told me that he really didn't want to have any more children. I was upset, but we went on to get married. Did I think he'd change his mind? Probably. I tend heavily toward denial. But in our 25 years of marriage, the only babies in our family were the ones his daughter had.
Looking back, I'm glad Fred was honest about not wanting more children. Over the years, I found that he liked children, but didn't want to be responsible for them. Like Jim, he wasn't keen on babies. To be honest, he wasn't even that good with puppies. All that noise and mess. I grieved the loss of the children I might have had, and, to Fred's credit, he felt tremendously guilty.
It's not always that one person is the bad guy. I can see Fred's side. He was 15 years older than me, and he had spent years raising the three kids he already had. He had thought he was done with that part of life until I came along. If there's any blame to be laid, it's on me. Fred loved me enough that I believe he would have gone along with the process if I had insisted that I couldn't be happy without being a mother. Instead, I made a non-decision and the years passed until it was too late.
How about you? Have you made a definite decision to have or not have kids? If you cannot be happy without them, have you made that clear to your partner? Will it damage your relationship if one person has to give up what they want?
Our divorce a year or so later had nothing to do with that, but under the rules of the Catholic church, I was able to obtain an annulment on the grounds that he refused to have children. The diocesan tribunal in San Francisco ruled it an invalid marriage.
So, three years later, along came Fred, cute, funny, loving, responsible, gainfully employed, all the stuff a girl wants in a husband. The first time we made love, I rushed to put my diaphragm in, but it proved unnecessary. He had had a vasectomy after his third child was born. After we got engaged, we talked about reversing the vasectomy or adopting a child, but finally he told me that he really didn't want to have any more children. I was upset, but we went on to get married. Did I think he'd change his mind? Probably. I tend heavily toward denial. But in our 25 years of marriage, the only babies in our family were the ones his daughter had.
Looking back, I'm glad Fred was honest about not wanting more children. Over the years, I found that he liked children, but didn't want to be responsible for them. Like Jim, he wasn't keen on babies. To be honest, he wasn't even that good with puppies. All that noise and mess. I grieved the loss of the children I might have had, and, to Fred's credit, he felt tremendously guilty.
It's not always that one person is the bad guy. I can see Fred's side. He was 15 years older than me, and he had spent years raising the three kids he already had. He had thought he was done with that part of life until I came along. If there's any blame to be laid, it's on me. Fred loved me enough that I believe he would have gone along with the process if I had insisted that I couldn't be happy without being a mother. Instead, I made a non-decision and the years passed until it was too late.
How about you? Have you made a definite decision to have or not have kids? If you cannot be happy without them, have you made that clear to your partner? Will it damage your relationship if one person has to give up what they want?
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Childless journey begins: the revelation
In your search for a mate, you think you have found THE ONE. After years of bad dates, maybe even bad marriages, this man or woman is a keeper. And then, one day, after you've given him or her your heart, they drop the bomb. They can't or don't want to have children with you. He tells you he's had a vasectomy. She tells you of problems that will keep her from getting pregnant. He keeps telling you he's not ready for children. She shares that she never felt the urge to be a mother. He says the kids from his first marriage are more than enough. Gradually--or suddenly--you realize that if you stay with this person, you will never have children. Now what do you do?
This week I want to talk about that revelation. How do we find out that our partner isn't going to have kids with us?
I was married twice to men who didn't give me children. My first husband, Jim, seemed like he would be a great father. I watched him play with other people's kids and assumed that he would welcome our own. In our Catholic marriage prep, we both signed a paper saying we would welcome children and raise them in the faith. But once we were married, he kept wanting to put off pregnancy. Not till we get good jobs, he said. Not till we get a house. The years were passing by. My friends and relatives were having babies, and I wanted one, too.
When I started taking care of the neighbors' baby, I saw a different side of Jim. He couldn't stand its crying, its smells, its needs. And then, when I thought, despite rigorous use of birth control, that I might be pregnant, he dropped the bomb. If I was pregnant, he was leaving.
Would he really have done that? I'll never know. It turned out I wasn't pregnant. Soon after that, our marriage fell apart for other reasons. I do know that he did not have kids with his next wife either.
In my next post, I'll talk about the revelation in my second marriage. But today, I'm asking you. How did you find out children might not be in your future? Did they tell you straight out, did something happen, did you guess? Did you believe them? Let's talk about it.
This week I want to talk about that revelation. How do we find out that our partner isn't going to have kids with us?
I was married twice to men who didn't give me children. My first husband, Jim, seemed like he would be a great father. I watched him play with other people's kids and assumed that he would welcome our own. In our Catholic marriage prep, we both signed a paper saying we would welcome children and raise them in the faith. But once we were married, he kept wanting to put off pregnancy. Not till we get good jobs, he said. Not till we get a house. The years were passing by. My friends and relatives were having babies, and I wanted one, too.
When I started taking care of the neighbors' baby, I saw a different side of Jim. He couldn't stand its crying, its smells, its needs. And then, when I thought, despite rigorous use of birth control, that I might be pregnant, he dropped the bomb. If I was pregnant, he was leaving.
Would he really have done that? I'll never know. It turned out I wasn't pregnant. Soon after that, our marriage fell apart for other reasons. I do know that he did not have kids with his next wife either.
In my next post, I'll talk about the revelation in my second marriage. But today, I'm asking you. How did you find out children might not be in your future? Did they tell you straight out, did something happen, did you guess? Did you believe them? Let's talk about it.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Tuesday Childless Links
Hi there. I have decided to post three times a week now, with one of those days being a collection of links that I have found. Let me know if this is helpful to you. I welcome your suggestions for other links to share.
1. Did you know that the founder of Mother's Day was childless? According to this article, "Founder Anna Jarvis was childless and other Mother’s Day trivia," the woman who got it started didn’t have children and never intended for the commercial insanity that Mother’s Day became.
1. Did you know that the founder of Mother's Day was childless? According to this article, "Founder Anna Jarvis was childless and other Mother’s Day trivia," the woman who got it started didn’t have children and never intended for the commercial insanity that Mother’s Day became.
2.In "The Nomos Manifesto: are childless women the new suffragettes?" Jody Day of Gateway Women suggests that we women without children can be a collective force for change in our world. Furthermore, she offers a list of demands to improve the lives of Nomos/aka non-mothers.
3. At Life Without Baby, Kathleen Guthrie Woods writes about how she prepared for Mother’s Day and what actually happened.
http://jennifruit.blogspot.com
Then there's “We are Content Being a Family of Two.” A woman who calls herself J-La-Sta talks about her late-life marriage and how she deals with the many misunderstandings she encounters about their decision not to have children.
Happy reading. See you Thursday.
Happy reading. See you Thursday.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Happy un-Mother's day
It occurred to me as I was walking my dog through the woods a little while ago, that there's nothing out there in nature to make us feel bad about not having children. The trees don't care. The squirrels aren't running around buying gifts for their mothers. The mama robins aren't stressing out over whether they'll get presents tomorrow. Just get away from the media, and you'll be fine.
I went to a post-wedding shower this afternoon. It was lovely, high tea elegantly served in a beautiful house, followed by gifts and wedding pictures. Everybody else there except the new bride is not only a wife but a mother, and the bride is actively trying to get pregnant. I felt a bit like a purple goose in a field full of white ones. But that's okay. We must learn to be proud of our purpleness. God made us purple for a reason.
I ran across a great column at Salon.com by Anne Lamott called "Why I Hate Mother's Day." You might want to read it. Anne is a mother, but she gets how we feel.
My own un-Mother's Day gift to you is the release of Childless by Marriage, the Kindle ebook. Click here to buy it for only $2.99. Cheaper than the cocktail you might get to wash your troubles away.
Try not to feel sorry for yourself today or to dishonor the mothers in your life just because of your own lack of children. Go do something you enjoy. The day will pass and you can forget about it for another year.
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