Off the Fence -and On to Great Things!

Written by Feebee Tuesday, 22 July 2008 00:42

Like many women, I expected to one day have children. Although not high on the priority list, offspring always featured in my hazy, unspecific mental image of my future.

But circumstances conspired to lead me off my planned life path.

When I found myself in my late 30s on my own after a second major relationship break-up, I began to feel alarmed and panicky. No matter where I went, or what I read, I received the implicit –-- and sometimes explicit --- message that without children, my life would somehow be devoid of meaning, leaving me yearning and regretful in old age. Loud and clear, it came to me: “Whatever you do, find a way to be a mother.” The thought would haunt me in the middle of the night as I lay awake agonizing: “How did I end up without a family of my own?”

I winced when people asked the inevitable question: “Do you have children?”

Feeling as if I’d missed the boat, I gained some comfort from stories of hope I read in magazines, or collected from conversations. Stories about women who had their first child at 43, women who’d found a sperm donor and parented on their own, women who’d made journeys to China to collect children from orphanages, women who’d become foster parents.

Then, at the age of 39, I met the man who is now my second husband. Already in his late 40s, he had raised a son who was on the verge of flying the nest. He was looking forward to the next chapter in life –-- one without the responsibility of parenting. We were deeply in love, but found ourselves in conflict. The pressure I felt to have children was getting stronger and more urgent. His desire to have more children was totally non-existent. Known fertility issues added more complications –-- to have a child of our own would require lengthy and expensive treatment with no guarantee of success. There was no time to waste; by now I was 41 years old.

We tussled with the thorny issue until he was finally persuaded to utter the words: “I will do it for you”. For a heady moment that felt great –-- like a door had been unlocked.

But the responsibility was now mine. It was up to me whether to make this momentous move that would change our lives forever. Suddenly I realized that it wasn’t fair to force this man I loved into a parenthood he didn’t want. It was not “my right”, as many people had intimated, to demand it of him.

And, amazingly, now that the decision was in my hands, I realized I wasn’t sure at all that I really wanted to have children. When it came down to it, maybe I never had. The idea of it was enticing, but for all the wrong reasons: acceptance by my peer group, assurance for my old age, the golden moments, dreams of a daughter with whom I could be mates. The reality would require me to step back considerably from my creatively challenging and demanding work in the arts, give up time with my large network of inspiring friends and family, cease my frequent, stimulating travel, and face 20 years of intense parenting demands, lack of sleep, anxiety, and self-sacrifice.

We would attend our child’s 21st birthday party when we were in our 60s and 70s –-- the age that his or her grandparents should be. Raising a child in this overpopulated, violent, and consumerist society would be stressful and challenging.

I found myself uncomfortably on the fence: torn between doing what was expected of me and avoiding later regret, or following a courageous and independent life as a childfree person.

With fervor, I researched every relevant resource I could find online. In my journey, I stumbled upon a community of like-minded people –-- but they were in a childfree forum. As I read their postings, I felt amazed and connected. Here were people who had never wanted children (or found they couldn’t have them) who were intelligent, insightful, and contented individuals.

With a fresh perspective, I observed parents without my rose-tinted glasses. As I passed families on the beach on a Sunday afternoon, I put away my usual feelings of envy and really watched them. The parents were tired and harassed; the children were restless and demanding. I visualized myself in the parents’ place and for the first time I admitted that being a mother might not be for me.

As I lay in bed one night, a thought came to me in a moment of clarity. What I wanted more than anything else was to be able to not be a parent and know that this choice was just fine.

Getting off the fence took some time. I found myself in a grieving process --– mourning the end of the ‘possibility’. I obsessively sought reassurance from my childfree friends on the forum. And one hideous day, on a grassy hillside above the sea, I collapsed on the ground and sobbed while my husband held me helplessly. But deep down I anticipated a moment when, at peace with my decision, I would move forward with a million plans, ideas, and things to do in life.

The moment I made the decision was a quiet, unassuming one. I just knew: there I was, on the childfree side of the fence. I felt clarity, peace --– and relief. From that point on, I have not looked back: no regret, no bitterness, no yearning. Having climbed over the wires and tackled that hurdle, I have endless possibilities ahead. No longer faced with financially supporting a new family, my husband and I are planning travel, study, reduced working hours, and finding a new house. We are relishing our extended weekend brunches, having international friends to stay, learning a language, and planning the freelance business I always dreamed of setting up.

The young people in my life –-- nieces, nephews, stepson, godson, employees --– are receiving renewed energy and attention from me as I re-focus on supporting and mentoring them. We will have the means and the time to visit the young girl we sponsor in an overseas orphanage. My husband can contemplate semi-retirement or a career change in the next few years in order to follow his passions.

Now when people ask if I have children, I answer “no” with complete confidence and no apology. I love my life! Since I made the decision, inspiring childfree people have turned up in my life in droves. I have heard powerful and affirming stories from older childfree women who are neither lonely nor regretful. Rather, they are busy, engaged, interested in the world around them, and surrounded by friends. The childfree, I have learned, have their eyes open to the world rather than trained on their children.

I probably never really wanted to be a mother in the first place; I just didn’t know I had the option. Getting off that fence, onto the childfree side, has been one of the best personal decisions I've ever made.

 

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