Having just spent an exhausting Xmas visiting family, I am quite relieved to be back home in our snug nest of two. There weren't any young children involved (Man's niece is fourteen) and there are no young children, as yet, on my side. So, I didn't have to suffer the pains of being without children and being faced with lots of children at this time like so many childless/childfree people do; It seems that whether you are involuntarily childless, or childfree by choice, there are always some child-centred issues at Xmas, and at family gatherings in general.
My parents always go out to eat, for Xmas lunch, to a pub in the Dales. I couldn't help noticing and wondering about the family dynamics of other diners. Opposite me, on a table for two, were a couple in their fifties. They hardly said a word to each other. But, when my partner and I were trying to scoop a spinning top (from our cracker), onto our desert spoons, the man was watching and seemed to want to be part of the fun. He smiled warmly and wanted to engage us in conversation. I looked at them and saw Man and I in ten years time, sitting alone at Xmas.
In contrast, on the table behind us, were seated three generations in a party of twelve. The youngest was probably about three months old. Thankfully I had my back to them. He was being burped and was peering over his mum's shoulder at Man. Man was smiling, so I did look round, but it just brought the lump in my chest back. Later in the meal my dad was also looking at the baby and was actually trying to get me to look at the baby. 'Ah, go on - look - doesn't it make you feel broody?' He actually said those words, out loud, to his daughter who has had three miscarriages and whom he knows will probably not try for another pregnancy because of not wanting to go through all that pain again. Was he just totally unempathetic, ignorant, or just cruel? I hope it's just plain old thoughtlessness. Or perhaps he is in denial of my situation because he wanted grandchildren so badly, so to act as if nothing ever happened is the least painless route for him.
Ironically, I am going to have to remove the word 'family' from my tag list, because when looking for other blogs to read, the 'next blog' button leads me to page after page of proud parents and baby photos. The 'family' are logging the progress of their darling offspring for other dissipated members of the 'family' who can't be there to see every twitch, hear every gurgle, and inspect every present deposited in every nappy... now who sounds bitter? So much for families of two, obviously there aren't many described as such here in blogland.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Two's company
I've decided to change the name of this blog from 'Not Trying' to 'Two's Company' because it better describes my situation and the subject matter that I'll be blogging on about. I believe in families of two - there is no reason why society shouldn't accept two-person situations as 'family'. I'm fed up of hearing our government banging on about 'hard working families'. Where do we fit in to the rhetoric? I don't want to be defined as a pity-inducing 'childless couple'. I guess we might simply be referred to as a 'couple'. A couple of what? Man is my family - one day he'll be most of family - that's how we see each other and it's about time society at large did, too.
Greetings of the Season to whoever is reading.
Greetings of the Season to whoever is reading.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Old age
I saw a friend today who has a baby and a toddler. Today she went to the WI (Women's Institute ) Xmas market to buy a cake but forgot her money. She left the toddler in the care of some of the old women running the market while she popped to the cashpoint. They wanted her to leave the baby too, but she didn't, so they were disappointed. As she recounted the story to me she said how she thought that old ladies love to have babies and children around them at Xmas. I imagine that most of those women probably have a diaspora of adult offspring and grandchildren between them, and many of them will be visiting , or be visited, by their relatives around Xmas.
I began to feel really uncomfortable while she was talking - a certain tightness/heaviness in my chest started to develop and it still hasn't gone away. It was just a lighthearted 'pass-the-time-of-day' conversation we were having, but I felt really quite troubled. Her partner's mother was there and told me that they had very kindly invited her to stay for Xmas.
On my way home, I began to think very bleakly about my future. If I have no children I will definitely have no grandchildren, which means that when I'm an old lady and, when Man is no longer with me, I will only have one living blood relative left (hopefully - my cousin). Who will invite me over for Xmas lunch? Who will even care about my existence? My peer-group friends all have their own families, and, by then, may even have their own grandchildren and commitments.
I know that having children to avoid loneliness in old age is the wrong reason to have children. People will no doubt tell me that, even if you have children, there are no guarantees that they will stick around for your winter years; they may choose to live on a different hemisphere. But, to me, that's OK - at least I would know that my kin existed somewhere on the same planet - people who would know and care about my existence. It's intolerable to me to think that I might end up totally alone one day, but I'm guessing I won't be the only person in this position. We'll just all have to keep up with technology so that people in similar situations can at least keep in touch virtually.
I began to feel really uncomfortable while she was talking - a certain tightness/heaviness in my chest started to develop and it still hasn't gone away. It was just a lighthearted 'pass-the-time-of-day' conversation we were having, but I felt really quite troubled. Her partner's mother was there and told me that they had very kindly invited her to stay for Xmas.
On my way home, I began to think very bleakly about my future. If I have no children I will definitely have no grandchildren, which means that when I'm an old lady and, when Man is no longer with me, I will only have one living blood relative left (hopefully - my cousin). Who will invite me over for Xmas lunch? Who will even care about my existence? My peer-group friends all have their own families, and, by then, may even have their own grandchildren and commitments.
I know that having children to avoid loneliness in old age is the wrong reason to have children. People will no doubt tell me that, even if you have children, there are no guarantees that they will stick around for your winter years; they may choose to live on a different hemisphere. But, to me, that's OK - at least I would know that my kin existed somewhere on the same planet - people who would know and care about my existence. It's intolerable to me to think that I might end up totally alone one day, but I'm guessing I won't be the only person in this position. We'll just all have to keep up with technology so that people in similar situations can at least keep in touch virtually.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
Grilled by Gran
Sometime back in the mid-nineties, after I'd been 'living in sin' with my ex-partner for about a year, I visited one of my grans. How lovely, you might think, but what has this to do with trying for children?
She was never the most caring or attentive of my grans, nor was she my favourite, but I still felt compelled to do a duty visit. Now that I was an adult I think she felt it was OK to treat me just like anyone else in that she didn't mince her words. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn't get married then, 'them kids'll be bastards'. Imagine that said in the bluntest of north-east accents and you'll get the idea.
I went on to explain that I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to have kids. At twenty-five years old, it was nothing I'd ever thought seriously about and probably the last thing I wanted to happen in my life at that time. Her response to that was a hostile, 'well you'd better tell yuh dad - yuh'll break his heart'. (I'm an only child - will discuss the ramifications of this in other posts in future).
So, that told me! Possibly the first overt pressure to have children that I'd experienced and I'd been made all too aware of the huge responsibility I had to provide a man with a happy heart. Never mind the fact that he went on to break his own heart by smoking for fifty years and eating too many bacon sandwiches!
She was never the most caring or attentive of my grans, nor was she my favourite, but I still felt compelled to do a duty visit. Now that I was an adult I think she felt it was OK to treat me just like anyone else in that she didn't mince her words. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that if I didn't get married then, 'them kids'll be bastards'. Imagine that said in the bluntest of north-east accents and you'll get the idea.
I went on to explain that I wasn't even sure if I even wanted to have kids. At twenty-five years old, it was nothing I'd ever thought seriously about and probably the last thing I wanted to happen in my life at that time. Her response to that was a hostile, 'well you'd better tell yuh dad - yuh'll break his heart'. (I'm an only child - will discuss the ramifications of this in other posts in future).
So, that told me! Possibly the first overt pressure to have children that I'd experienced and I'd been made all too aware of the huge responsibility I had to provide a man with a happy heart. Never mind the fact that he went on to break his own heart by smoking for fifty years and eating too many bacon sandwiches!
Sunday, 6 December 2009
On bitterness
A friend once told me that she was jolly well going to get on with having children as soon as she was able. Her reasons were that she did not want to 'risk' becoming a bitter and twisted forty-something childless woman. And she loves kids, of course!
Having reached my fortieth birthday this year and so far having failed to produce offspring, I am now wondering if this is the state towards which I am heading. I'm hoping that the cathartic experience of blogging will help to assuage any bitter emotions which are, inevitably, creeping up on me. And, better the bitterness splattered all over intra-cyber-web-net-space than festering inside my body!
The small amount of bitterness I feel does not necessarily come from my childless state; some of it comes from attitudes to my childless state which I have encountered from all sorts of sources.
And, for the record, I have never thought that the defining meaning of any woman's life is solely down to whether or not she is a mother – whatever her age. The merit of a 'forty-something' woman's life can be just as valuable without offspring than with, and she should not be defined purely by that marker. Yes, she might possess a certain amount of bitterness, but she's entitled to it, just as many a parent will often lament their lack or personal time and space. As long as it doesn't destroy her.
Having reached my fortieth birthday this year and so far having failed to produce offspring, I am now wondering if this is the state towards which I am heading. I'm hoping that the cathartic experience of blogging will help to assuage any bitter emotions which are, inevitably, creeping up on me. And, better the bitterness splattered all over intra-cyber-web-net-space than festering inside my body!
The small amount of bitterness I feel does not necessarily come from my childless state; some of it comes from attitudes to my childless state which I have encountered from all sorts of sources.
And, for the record, I have never thought that the defining meaning of any woman's life is solely down to whether or not she is a mother – whatever her age. The merit of a 'forty-something' woman's life can be just as valuable without offspring than with, and she should not be defined purely by that marker. Yes, she might possess a certain amount of bitterness, but she's entitled to it, just as many a parent will often lament their lack or personal time and space. As long as it doesn't destroy her.
Too late?
I'm forty years old now; it all started when I was thirty-six, by which time society, the media and even close family were issuing severe warnings of 'leaving it too late'.
Those four words suggest that there might have even been a choice! Not so. Many women who start trying for children in their late thirties/early forties are not doing so for any other reason than that they didn't meet the right partner with whom to take the plunge until then. Simple as that. They are not selfish, irresponsible, desperate, or any of the unhelpful words peddled by the media to browbeat women into thinking they only have themselves to blame and it'll be their fault if humankind grinds to a halt. Nor are they 'geriatric' - the rather dismissive term used by the NHS to describe pregnant women over a certain age.
In my own case, I got it together with my partner when I was thirty-two. The end of my previous relationship coincided with the end of a millennium - not a bad time to reassess and start over.
Those four words suggest that there might have even been a choice! Not so. Many women who start trying for children in their late thirties/early forties are not doing so for any other reason than that they didn't meet the right partner with whom to take the plunge until then. Simple as that. They are not selfish, irresponsible, desperate, or any of the unhelpful words peddled by the media to browbeat women into thinking they only have themselves to blame and it'll be their fault if humankind grinds to a halt. Nor are they 'geriatric' - the rather dismissive term used by the NHS to describe pregnant women over a certain age.
In my own case, I got it together with my partner when I was thirty-two. The end of my previous relationship coincided with the end of a millennium - not a bad time to reassess and start over.
My partner and other characters
My significant other does not want to be named in this blog, so I shall refer to him simply as 'Man'. That will be his new name; he needs a name here because he will feature a lot.
He is wonderfully supportive and handsome, but we have both 'been through the mill' a bit, so I would like to respect his autonomy.
I, too, have chosen to write under a pseudonym because of the emotional and revealing nature of this subject matter. I might decide, at some point, to tell a few close friends and family about it, but at the moment I'm not sure who will appear here and whether they would appreciate it. So I will either name no names, or use pseudonyms.
He is wonderfully supportive and handsome, but we have both 'been through the mill' a bit, so I would like to respect his autonomy.
I, too, have chosen to write under a pseudonym because of the emotional and revealing nature of this subject matter. I might decide, at some point, to tell a few close friends and family about it, but at the moment I'm not sure who will appear here and whether they would appreciate it. So I will either name no names, or use pseudonyms.
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