This will be hard to read. I'm admitting that up front. If you don't want to be bummed then click away. But if by chance, you want to grow in understanding, empathy, and compassion for the childless people around you, I encourage you to read further.
A statistic: Infertility and childlessness affects as many couples as breast cancer does women. 1 in 8 couples.
1 in 8.
If you don't know any childless people now, you will. It may be end up being you. It may be a son, a daughter, a sister, a brother, a friend. I'm not saying that to wish it on anyone, I'm simply saying it to say that, some day, you will know someone who is childless and, if you love them, you will need (and hopefully want) to try to understand their road.
And if you try, just try, I can guarantee that you will make a misunderstood life feel less lonely and less invisible. If you try, they'll be forever grateful and feel forever safe in your presence. If you try, they'll know they're loved and valued even if their lives don't look like yours. If you try, they'll know they're not "less," but a uniquely created child of God, just like you.
I want to try to foster that understanding, so with that in mind, you're about to hear the voices of the childless. These are anonymous comments I've collected from various sites, blogs, and even emails I've received over the years and I'm posting a few of them here -- just a few. I could post many more, but how much sorrow can one post take?
None of these comments are my own, but, rather, the voices of many childless around the world.
They are raw, open, and honest.
They are snapshots of the childless life. (Italics are mine for emphasis.)
~ The urge and desire to have children is as strong as the pangs of hunger.
~ I would not wish infertility on my most loathed enemy.
~ I feel a lot of panic when I think how to fill my time and to do
something worthwhile. Is there a way to use this sadness?
~ Sometimes infertility is the death blow to a marriage that might have
had a chance otherwise.
~ IF there was a word to describe the pain of years of infertility, IF
there was a word to express the agony of everyone else in your life having
babies and doting over their beautiful children, it certainly could never be
expressed by using the word jealous. I believe there is a certain amount of
envy, yes, but mostly -- Longing, Sorrow, Pain, Grief.
~ I thank God for my life every day but when I laugh, laugh with me and
when I cry, cry with me.
~ It is a grieving process … every cycle … every month, another
disappointment. I am surprised any couples make it through this at all.
~ Still, just when I think I’m
utterly detached from the idea moving forward toward other goals, something
will cross my path–a pregnant woman, a family together at a restaurant, even an
elderly woman going to lunch with her grandkids–and my old wounds rip open
again. It’s not every time, just random, unexpected moments.
~ Here’s the deal: We cannot get
pregnant without medical intervention. We are, by all medical definitions,
infertile. In order for me to get pregnant like "Sarah in the Bible," it would take a
miracle, either of the man-made-medical type or the religious type. Since
neither you nor I can tell Him what to do, we are deciding whether to follow
the medical path or to pursue adoption. ‘Kay? Now then, every time you imply
that somehow I will magically get pregnant, you are dismissing my pain and also
implying that we are missing something. Can I just tell you how many people
have poked and prodded me and hubby with medical devices of various types and
purposes? How many times we have cried over numbers on a damn page, stared at
web forums until our eyelids burned looking for the path forward, and been sick
to our stomachs before going to one more frickin’ meeting with one more
frickin’ doctor to hear the same message: ‘It ain’t happening’? Stop. You need
to stop and listen to what I am saying to you: We are infertile. You have an
infertile daughter. You have an infertile son. It hurts like hell, and every time you are dismissive or
pretend that this isn’t real, you are causing me pain. I worry that you won’t
love our child as much because you seem to not acknowledge the reality of the
situation. That makes it harder for us to move forward too. Please stop. Please
start saying, ‘I’m so sorry you are going through this.’ Say, ‘I wish I could
take the pain away.’ Say, ‘I can’t understand how this hurts for you, but I do
understand that it does. It hurts for me too because your pain is so great.’
Say, ‘We are a family, and I am here to listen.’ Say, ‘Whatever path forward
you choose, we are here for you.’ Say, ‘I say these things because it’s hard
for me to hear that you are facing this situation. I’m also upset that our
grandchildren may come into the family differently than I imagined, but in the
end, we just want you to be happy, and we support you.’ Say, ‘I’m sorry for
hurting you. I’m listening, and I support you and love you.'" Or, you know, something like that.
~ Surely there is more to me
than “You know, Kate and her husband, that couple that can’t have kids.” Will I
be fifty and still wondering what if?
~ It’s when I don’t feel like
I’m “producing” anything spectacular that I fall prey to the childless blues
the most.
~ I found your
article while googling “the meaning of life without kids.”
~ It is emotionally, psychologically, physically and economically demanding. It is
isolating and dehumanizing … you continue because to you it is worth it, worth
everything …. and then you’re told no more, it can’t be done.
~ I feel your pain, Jennifer. I know you are hurting. I know you are angry. I remember being quite pissed one day when my mother was trying to be positive. I tried to explain the feeling to her, "Mom, I'll never know what it feels like to labor or breastfeed."
She didn't get it. I almost took my life that night.
~
I am a married, infertile, childless, mid-40's woman who
feels so left out at church. I have grown up in church, been in leadership of
some kind, including youth ministry, for most of my life. It is difficult to be
left out, to hear comments that 'I wouldn't understand because I don't have
kids' & to be treated like I am less of a person because I don't have
children. I am still a woman, I love kids, I have interests & abilities
that God gave me, I can be a part of a conversation. I love God, but I have
been definitely pushed out of the women's circles for a number of years. It is
difficult & painful. It has caused a lot of self-doubt, a lot of tears, and
tremendous loneliness. I get continuous questions of why didn't you adopt,
which, we were in process and the mom (a relative) changed her mind, but really
does it matter?? Why is it anyone else's business?? I am not lonely because I
don't have children. I have accepted that and am fine with it. I am lonely
because so many people in and out of the church, ostracize the childless. I
still have plenty to offer you as a friend, a sister in Christ, and a woman. I
would have thought by this time in my life that people would have been different,
but they aren't. My husband and I still are not included in things because the
people with kids are getting together. Did you ever think to ask us, or anyone
else who is single/childless/etc. if we would like to join you?
~ I went to a church for a while that honored all women on
Mother's Day. The pastor said, "Even if women don't have children, they are
still involved in some child's life either as an aunt, a children or youth
leader, a teacher of some kind to someone, a friend to a neighbor kid, or a
sister. They have value. Don't treat them as if they don't."
Unfortunately, most of the women in the church did not hear what he said, but
it was great that he said that and gave worth to each woman there.
~
One
lady in a church we were at very briefly said to my husband that she understood
and struggled with infertility as well, so if we ever needed to talk, she was
available. First thing, my husband didn't even talk to her about our
childlessness; she made her own assumptions. Second, she had four of her own
kids ..... she had wanted six ……
~ Most of
the time, I have peace over the fact that God chose for us to not have kids,
(which people don't understand when I say that because they are sure God didn't
choose that for us) but occasionally, it is still very painful to be so
ostracized by others. I know I belong to Christ and I am precious to Him. I
know my worth is in Him. But sometimes, on my low days, I would like to be
treated like a woman who has worth that other people can see.
~ (From a woman with cancer) The
infertility hurts worse than dealing with the cancer.
~ The dashing of a lifelong desire for motherhood -- I lament it. I lament
it deep into my soul, from now to my grave and beyond.
