I know intellectually that it isn’t true but yesterday I got hit hard by the feeling, the feeling that my childlessness is proof that there is something inherently wrong with me, a sort of scarlet “I”. I know it isn’t true. You don’t have to tell me that it isn’t true, I know it isn’t. Yet it feels true. Yesterday I was in a room filled with mommies. They were all young, beautiful, with Pilates bodies and pretty and perky dispositions—and then there was me. I felt like the wallflower in the corner that no one asked to dance. I sat alone at a table keenly aware that we had nothing in common. I know shit about formula or cribs or what kind of diapers are the best. And I sat there feeling all kinds of shame and loneliness. Every now and then I could feel their eyes looking at me, I tried to imagine their fantasy of me. My version of their fantasy is likely untrue. I won’t bother to write it. It seems too massochistic to give space to.
I was sitting and waiting for someone to arrive. It was a someone that I didn’t know. He was running late and my my thoughts were running wild. Something about sitting and waiting took my mind to the last time I was sitting and waiting for someone that I didn’t know. She was a famous person. You may know her. She is big and I was so very excited to meet her. This famous someone learned of my infertility and she wanted to know every detail of my infertility journey and then she told me, ” I don’t really want to have kids. I don’t really think I do. But I am going to. I am going to have kids because I don’t want to miss out. If I don’t do it now, I might regret it. And I just don’t want to regret it.” This famous woman continued to ask me details about the expense and the pain and the ordeal of it all. She didn’t ask out of concern or compassion for me, her questions were for the purpose of information gathering. Not once did this famous woman apologize for my cruel fate, the way someone with empathy might do. Not once did my childlessness impact her line of questioning. Once I told her all of the stats of how many shots, for how many days, and what the side effects were and how much I paid, she then wanted me to know about the very famous sperm donors she had lined up and what great insurance she had and how very certain the doctors were that she would easily get pregnant. I sat there waiting, my mind vacillating between the Pilates-bodies mommies, the fear that I might be stood up and wondering if this famous woman had gotten pregnant by the famous sperm.
The guy arrived. The Pilates mommies disappeared into the background and all thoughts of the famous person left my mind. But when the meeting was over I had the undeniable feeling that I had been punched in the ovaries when I was otherwise occupied. I managed to look and act and walk and even drive like a functioning adult, but it was all an act. When I got home I had one thing on my mind and that was spaghetti and meatballs. I knew that this craving would be considered emotional eating and for the first time in over six months I found that I just didn’t give a shit. I wanted what I wanted and I didn’t care if that meant that tomorrow morning, when standing naked, I would see a two pound weight gain on my red and pink striped digital scale. I filled a large bowl with cold spaghetti that had been sitting in a sealed Ziploc bag since whenever He-weasel had overestimated his hunger( and this was not the low carb/high protein and tasteless kind that I usually make) . I covered the Medusa mass of simple carbs with an unintentionally healthy turkey marinara sauce. When I waited the interminable three minutes for the aforementioned ingredients to heat, I got out the parmesan and a big tablespoon and waited, like Pavlov’s pups, for the bell to ring. I eschewed the key ring of measuring spoons that I usually use when I am going to be dispensing something as calorie laden as cheese. I instead used aesthetics to determine exactly how much of the powdered parmesan was needed to complete this feast of deserving. I hungrily stabbed my fork into what looked to my dieting eye to be a serving fit for a family and worked with determination to make the noodles and the meat and the cheese disappear. I was successful in my task. When the bowl was empty I felt no guilt. None. I looked for signs of fullness and felt none. I looked for hunger and found none of that. For the next hour I scoured my mind and body for feelings of discomfort, shame, or guilt. There was none. I did find sadness, but that had been there before the spaghetti. I looked down at the empty bowl and saw something, something that made me cry; I saw emptiness.
My dear…I can’t say anything, only send you virtual hugs,many of them….
…And mentally curse that stupid, insensitive famous woman…
As for emotional eating, I’ve been there. After discovering I had fibroadenomas I eat 2 alfajores (http://farm1.static.flickr.com/197/501331391_9e29c87271.jpg) and 1 conito (http://www.flickr.com/photos/amrock84/3309598273/in/photostream/) all in one take.Just as you, I knew it was emotional eating and I didn’t care. In my empty plate I saw fear…
Some fears and some moments require that one give it what it wants. The time you describe is definitely one of them.Virtual hugs to you, lovely.
I do not know what to say.. I feel for you .. is all I can muster xx
I do feel shame that sometimes i miss my freedom when I am blessed with a loving family xx
I suppose whatever we have we miss the opposite. Right? No need to feel ashamed. It’s normal. Hugs, lovely.xo
I feel it would be fatuous to try and empathise with you, but I can sympathise and as ever you write eloquently about the pain. Those feeling you have though are not dissimilar to those I get when I evaluate my relationship with Emin, that feeling of ‘I didn’t expect this to be my life at my age’ feeling. I wonder if many more people than you realise get that empty feeling at least once in a while, not child centred maybe, for some it is relationships, for others the lack of career, I am pretty sure the ‘famous woman’ you encountered sounds like much of her life is an unfilled vessel and she by now will no doubt realise than sperm, famous or not does not always equate with fulfilment especially from such a calculating origin. I think she would ache to eat a bowl of meatballs and spaghetti if only she knew it.
You make a great point( as usual:)I am sure that all of us have at least one area in which we feel behind and not part of the group. And, yeah, this famous woman, for all her fame, I wouldn’t trade place with her for a minute. She, in fact, made me very grateful to be me.
Oh dear, it was the last line that made me cry. I sympathize and send you big hugs. I do think that those moments of emptiness require big bowls of spaghetti and meatballs, even if they force to look into the empty bowl.
I think the “famous woman” is running from her own emptiness but perhaps she has not the wit to recognize it for what it is.
I think you’re right. That she is making actions not based on her desire but anticipating future regrets tells me lots about her.
Thank you, lovely, for the warm thoughts and hugs.
Again, I don’t know what to say except xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox.
That famous woman is so pathetic. I actually feel sorry for people like that. They are truly missing something. Just to let you know that a response you made to my comment about eating has been so very helpful. Although I knew it and have heard it a million times, for some reason it worked this time. Thank you!
That is a whole lot of hugs and kisses and I happily take them all. Thank you!
I am so very happy I could be helpful and that it has made a difference. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.xoxoxoo
“Famous woman” needs a punch in the face. And big *hugs* to you my dear.
Thank you, sweet you! I am glad it is her that gets the punch and me that gets the hug.:-)
Wow- this post seems both sad and healing. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you were feeling and the scars it has left. I am sending lots hugs.
Thanks so much. It helped to write this, I can tell you.
For weeks I have been reading about your ability to avoid temptation, and yesterday you gave in. I was so happy when you heated up that bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. You needed that yesterday. My heart goes out to you and I wish for you only happiness and good things to come.xo
Ah! You are a sweet. I do think that this was the right thing to do. My BIG super-ego would usually disagree with me and say giving in is never good but it has grown and it sees that sometimes that ID has to win.
And thank you for your wishes.xo
What a surreal and unhappy occurrence! You know, we eat for as many rasons as there are emotional meals. As long as you are aware of your motives, then the meal is just an experience. Though sometimes it doesn’t seem that way…
It felt like a ritual. It felt important. It didn’t feel compulsive even though there was an element of compulsion. I feel like my mind orchestrated the meal so I could get to the emptiness—that was what I really wanted to have reflected and I got it.
La Belette Rouge…you are very brave and I sense that the spaghetti was very comforting…and I wish that I had a magic wand to wave over you.
Hugs
XO
If you find that magic wand I would appreciate several waves. Hugs back!xo
((hugs))
my dear friend
Thank you, lovely.xo
Sure, it’s (probably) wrong, but don’t you wish you had cursed her kids to lifetime of work in fast food or retail?
I can’t sympathize, but I can empathize, and I’m glad you did decide to chow down. Emptiness can be filled in. No, that’s not an attempt at salving the wound (impossible for us third parties) with tales of “kids aren’t the be all, end all” (they’re not, the little bastards) but a thumbs up to you dealing with it. Some would just push that shit down until it all but vanished, only to eventually explode. I hope that made some sort of sense.
I cursed them to a lifetime work in the DMV or some other government agency.;-)
I am not a pusher downer. I am more of a teller-teller-teller, hence the blog.;-)
Here is a big hug for you {{{{{}}}}}} – I wish there were more I could give.
Hugs are plenty, thank you!
All I can say is that it is so unfair. I could smack that famous woman.
You are a born nurturer, you know? It pours out of you and helps others, like me. Thank you LBR.
Your impulse to smack that famous woman is very nurturing.;-) Thanks for being a fierce friend. And, sweet you, I am so pleased that you experience me as a nurturer. Thank you.
i hope that famous piece of work has a plate of pork chops and chokes on them–and the ambulance arrived late due to traffic. sorry but not much compassion for people like that. the insensitivity people show to each other is appalling at times and an example of what i hope never to be but am sure i too have had my moments.
darling, what to say… it is not easy to address these painful issues when the human need to reach out in reality is so deep but i am thrilled you ate what you wanted until you emptied your bowl. yes, there is something very sad about an empty bowl. i know always you will carry these scars but over time, of course, they will soften, perhaps not feel so raw. you are such a compassionate and deeply caring woman, i think it is perfectly natural you would crave children, a family to care for–you tried so hard to have just one. where to put that love and attention… that is why i am happy you put it into you. and wrote this for all of us to read. it is a way of allowing others to realize we do not know how another feels until we have walked in her shoes. and for us with children, small or grown, to appreciate those who are in our lives.
you know…this is impossible to feel like i will/can write the absolutely right thing but am sending you lots of love as i ponder you this morning, hoping for you a day filled with love and compassion. xxooo
I hope that the famous woman wakes up and smells the self-awareness( for some that can be more painful than a near death experience with a pork chop;-).
I hope that my writing helps others who are CNBC and helps those with kids to appreciate how lucky they are—I really do.
You don’t need to write the “right” thing. Your being here with your compassionate heart is just right. Thank you!xoxox
“Yesterday I was in a room filled with mommies. They were all young, beautiful, with Pilates bodies and pretty and perky dispositions” — you hang out in the wrong places. Come hang out with me and you’ll meet some haggard, exhausted, fed-up mommies who will ooh and ahh over our superior clothes, hair and freedom. What can I say — I know how to pick ‘em!
I’m sorry to reply, I just had to tell you that your comment made me smile. It made me remember the first 2 years of my twins life: all covered in puke, having breakfast at 4 pm because I didn’t have time to eat before that, collapsing in bed to sleep only at 20 minute intervals, deep dark circles under my eyes, with a permanent ponytail because I didn’t have time or energy to think about what to do with my hair. I guess you would have picked me!
Marcela: I can’t imagine you covered in puke and a ponytail, in my eyes you are ALWAYS and FOREVER chic.xo
Oh dear, I could send you some pictures, I an sure I scared the hell out of a couple of women wanting to have kids
But thanks!
I like how you work it. Well done!!!:-)
Oy–some people don’t have the wits to be selfless and sensitive. So sorry you endured that.
Thanks, Miss C.
Ah, yes, I’m all too familiar with the scenes from your post today. It reminded me of the one I wrote two years ago.
http://www.exhalezine.com/magazine/?page_id=251
May it bring you comfort in knowing that the pain and emptiness does lift in time…
You, my friend, always give me hope. It helps to have a Sister in this SIlent Sorority to give us a sense of the terrain. I appreciate your generous sharing more than I can say.xo
Belette,
more than anything, it seems there’s something inherently wrong with someone who says, “I don’t really want to have kids. I don’t really think I do. But I am going to.” I know you said you didn’t need to be told that it’s not the fertility that creates worth, but really, the quality of selfishness in the next few sentences of “it’s all about me” is rather stunning…
I suspect that the tendency to judge oneself as inadequate or flawed will exist and glom onto whatever context in which we find ourselves. Had I not had kids, I might very well know first-hand what you experience so often. Having had them, I never matched up to the Perfect Parents my self-judging-eyesight spotted in every crowd. But really, the feeling of being inadequate that I’ve carried around for ever so long manifests as doubt that I’m capable of *whatever it is I’m currently doing or being.*
I caught myself obsessing at 6:30 this morning over how “bad a mother I must be” because I’ve not prepared my kids well enough to compete with the offspring of
“Chinese mothers.”
(yes, stereotyped, but forgive me, I married into a Chinese family). And then I realized: wait. stop. it doesn’t need to go that far, into self-judgment. I’m doing my best, the way I know how.
I don’t know how that can help, or even if it can, but I find a small bit of solace in recognizing that it’s the tendency that follows me, but that it can be changed. Not that changing my situation will change the tendency, but that the mental habit itself has to change…
ok, official ramble.
a hug to you (at which close-up point you’ll be able to see my very non-pilates body, my wrinkles, my tons of grey hair and that I can’t even get it together to hide any of it with makeup or somesuch).
Thank you, NEighbor! YES! I think you and Alison make similar and similiarly wise points about how we ALL have some area where we feel inadequate. It is a universal experience and I think it relates with the birth of shame and the capacity to see our selves from the eye of the other. And I think the universalness of our feeling apart, flawed and not in the inner-circle is a way that we all can connect is strangely kind of great. You know? We are all in that club. None of us are immune, no matter how perfect the person may seem( the more perfect the more the person is defending against their perfection).
As a therapist I am a HUGE believer in good-enough parenting. I think “Perfect” parents are not the good kind. Their trying too hard can mess up their kids(to use technical language;-).
Hugs back to you. And up close you are even MORE beautiful.xo
Oh, La B… Miss Janey knows well the pity-party eating. Sometimes, one just has to go with it and let it go. Sorry you’re feeling crappy. Sorry someone like yourself, who is kind, insightful and has worked on herself and would make a great parent, can’t have a child. And yet some insensitive clod gets to have one just for the heck of it, whether she really wants it or not. Sorry she was oblivious to your pain. Hope she does better for her child if she ends up having one. Miss J knows you would.
Thank you. Thank you so much. I continue to wish life was fair. I might as well wish for a magic money tree or ice cream that would make me have a body like Madonna’s. Life isn’t fair and I might figure that lesson out before my life is over.
Thank you again for your heartfelt comment. It means a lot.
I hope you can feel the cyberhugs coming your way, for there is quite a big bunch. That and love. always lots of love for you.
tp
I feel the hugs and love and I appreciate that big bunch. THank you!xo
I wish you hadn’t had to feel this way, but I am very grateful you were able to write about it. The messed up thing about infertility is that there is no real “after” — it’s always “during,” and sometimes during is as much as we can possibly bear.
I want to invent truth-goggles. I would put them on, and I would see all the people around me who dazzle me with their brilliance as they see themselves. (Actually, that might not be the truth either, but you know what I mean.) All I see around me are effortlessly high performers, and I spent 2 hours this morning crying in my office and haven’t been able to get good work done all week. To say nothing of my minefield of a home life. TMI for the comments, I know, but honesty tends to attract honesty, right?
Thank you. WIthout you I wouldn’t have written this post. Actually, without you I wouldn’t likely be doing a lot of things.
You are so right. There is no “after” with infertility. It is an infliction that you live with all your life. No cure for it. I don’t care what the doctors or adoption agencies say. Somethings have no cure.
One of the many gifts of being a therapist is learning that everyone, no matter how dazzling or successful or gorgeous, has issues and pain and hurt. Everyone. No one gets out of this life without issues, hurts, heartbreaks and disappointments.
I wish I could bring you Kleenex, chocolate and tea—and big hugs. You make a big difference in my life. I am so grateful for your friendship.
Thank you for inspiring honesty in me. I am so happy I could do the same for you.xoxo
My debt to you is extensive and well-documented, so I’m glad I could be of use. Today is a better day for me, and I hope for you as well.
Today was much better. I am glad it was for you too.
My goodness LBR, this is a sad post…first off, I am really disliking this famous person, maybe you can tell me some day.
I am not sure what to say. Sometimes I let demons come into my consciousness and have a ball and that’s just how it is…
I had to share that Tuesday night I ran to Gelson’s, got their turkey meatballs, a small jar of spaghetti sauce, hurried home and made spaghetti, meatballs, with parmesan and italian bread…the works…my weasel claims the leftovers for his breakfast, too cute. It is one of my favorite foods. The reason I mention this is because I like for you to associate spaghetti and meatballs and parmesans with love of life, blessings, good food, Italy, etc. Toss out the modern ideas that go with it, exercise, calories, …. We cannot be like everyone else.
I too noticed this morning that everyone around me seems to have Pilates bodies…I thought, good for them! Love to you from Moi and My furry boys.
I dislike this famous person too. No, that isn’t true. What I don’t like is her narcissism and no one ever chooses to be narcissistic. So I would never spill who she is. I am a good secret keeper( it comes with being a therapist;-).
I am not usually a spaghetti and meatball kind of gal. I NEVER order it and rarely make it. So, me thinks, that there is some symbolism in it as it isn’t usually a go to food for me.
Furry boys don’t have Pilates-bodies. And actually, that is what I love about them. I love how furry and fluffy and non PIlates they are.xoxo
Oh, the things we women desire and feel we must get done and accomplish in order to feel acceptable in this world. Career, marriage, children, etc. all the while never aging a day and always looking as hot as possible. It’s maddening. It means that no matter how hard we try and how much we cross off the list we never feel we’ve done enough. And women who have, Gweneth Paltrow for one, really should stress how difficult it is and how much money it costs and how much help they get from others.
I feel sorry for the famous woman though my initial reaction was she reminded me so much of my sister. Her desire for fulfillment is probably so acute she can’t see anything but her desire and everyone else through the lense of aiding or hindering that desire. Still, such people can be so toxic just one exposure can cause damage.
I’m not sure anything I can write will help, but at least I can say you’re not alone and we women all experience this in one form or another. We keep forgetting that, no matter what happens on the surface of our lives, we are perfect and whole and lovable already. You are perfect and whole and lovable.
xoxo
You know I was never a Gweneth fan until I heard her admit that she struggles with depression and then I fell in love with her. I can love almost anyone who can admit to pain. Anyone who tries to act like they have triumphed pain are the ones I find it harder to love.
The famous woman seems so sad to me. But before I met her I had convinced myself that she was enviable and better than me and that I was nothing. After our meeting I felt much better about myself.
You are so right, we are all perfect, whole and lovable. It is so easy for me to see in others. It can be harder to see in myself. I absolutely see it in you.xoxo
I’m also sending virtual hugs.
Like Wendy B, I was wondering why you were mingling with this particular group of people (mommies).
Unavoidable maybe?
xxx
Thank you for the hugs, Jan. Yeah, it was unplanned and unavoidable. I think it was a “Mommies club” that took over the restaurant. I had no idea that they would be there.
xoxo
You poor dear. I know there’s nothing I or anyone can say when you’re unexpectedly faced with this issue but the delights of parenthood are more than counterbalanced by the problems.
Now please stop going to meet people for lunch at Chuckie Cheese.
You, my friend, made me snort with laughter. Yes, must stop dining at Chuckie Cheeses!
well, damnation, but The Evil Jean really wants to know who that Famous Woman is so that she can fire off some hate mail. (Foiled again, I guess.)
Keep on telling the truth. It heals us all.
Tell Evil Jean that I think she is fantastic.;-)
And, Good Jean, I appreciate your encouragement. Thank you!
I admire the strength and honesty you demonstrate when you share your heart in a post like this. Much love and hugs are being sent your way.
Thank you, Zen. It often feels a bit vulnerable( this one certainly did). It means so much to me to get such warmth and love in return. It really does.
Kudos to you, for suffering famous woman’s insensitive questions, hopefully she got a bit educated about infertility. I am sorry the spaghetti and meatballs did not help. May I suggest chocolate? That usually works for me.
Chocolate’s powers got me through my 20′s and 30′s. I am finding that in my 40′s it isn’t as powerful as it used to be. Hate that!;-)
Oh… Sweet you… I am holding you close in my thoughts. Hugs, my dear friend.
Thank you, lovely.
After I renewed my driver license, having been driving illegally for 6 months, and having found out when I went in that I actually DIDN’T have to take the test, I went home and ate 3/4 of a piece of Eruption chocolate cake from Whole Foods and drank 3 glasses of wine. In the daytime.
Now I’m wearing it all around my middle but somethings require a blow out.
If I did that for a driver license, childlessness warrants at the very least a few pieces of pasta. Sending hugs, kisses, and a sword for fighting off rude famous people.
Thank you for making me feel less alone! I wish we had our little fete together. I could bring the main course and you can bring the wine and dessert!;-)
And thank you for understanding the need for linguini for my loss.
Sounds like a toxic environment, you must stay away from those, sweetie, for self preservation.
Also, living in LA and knowing a lot about those pilate bodies moms I can tell you that chances are 99% of them felt like they did not belong in that room any more than you did. Only once they get home Pilate moms don’t even have the consolation of a heaping bowl of carbs.
I can’t imagine having that emptiness and never being allowed pasta. I am much better off than them. If I have to chose between carbs and kids, I am choosing carbs!;-)
Ah crap, I’m so sorry. Sometimes taking that headfirst dive into a bowl of pasta IS the most rational choice at the moment.
Ooooh, now you have given me an image of a swimming pool filled with pasta. Yum!
I’m finding that as I get happier and more balanced, the best thing I can do is avoid the people I already know are toxic, annoying, etc. I have a classmate back in the country after a few years in Asia and I just cannot call her back – I know she’s negative, cynical, toxic, strange. No thank you.
Sounds like the woman you spoke with needs to be on the “no go” list too.
I also feel like an alien in rooms full of “mommies” but am annoyed and not pained – where did all of these non-working people come from and don’t they have anywhere educational to take those kids during the day? Library? Park? Get out of my way!!!!
I don’t imagine that famous woman and I will ever meet again. That was a once in a life time experience.
LOL! Seriously, Mommies need to leave the restaurants to us workers. You all get the parks and the malls. Chic eateries belong to us with 401Ks!;-)
I have felt this before, too. My first thought is; isn’t it funny how something so inanimate as food, that does nothing but sit there and can’t call to us, or strut in front of us, or chase after us, can cause us to absolutely lose control. And then I thought, control is a funny thing. Lack of self-control (i.e. lack of exertion of myself on my environment) has really caused me to despair lately. Isn’t it funny that despair caused your lack of self-control. Maybe I have the cause and the outcome backwards. Maybe I am despairing and this is why I am out-of-control.
Jenava, I think you are onto something. I think the despairing is what causes the lack of self-control, at least for me. And I think my attempt to be in control also comes from a defense against of despair. Control and despair are definitely linked.
I wonder if despair can be assuaged by assuaged by assuming a false sense of control? I think in my case it’s true. Like emotional bootstrapping.
As usual, your post has taken my breath away with its raw aching honesty, and as usual, I have no words even though I want to say something, to let you know that I hear you and am teary-eyed over a proverbial bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with you.
xo
Thanks, LPF. You are a dear. It is nice to have friends to share my spaghetti with. Meatball?xo
Sometimes that pain just sucks and no one can say anything to make it less so. Thank you again for such honest sharing. I support that you needed to “treat” yourself and you did it without guilt or remorse. It wasn’t unconscious. And sometimes, we just need it. Sorry I have been A.O.L. lately. love, xoxo
Lovely to see you, sweet Reflections. It definitely wasn’t unconscious. I knew what I was doing and that makes it a choice. Happy you are back. xo
I know that feeling all to well, that sucky sucky sitting in a room and being completely ignored, or in my case stared at like a complete moron b/c I dont have children and tried to contribute (just baby sat from the time I was 10–seriously & worked w/kids for the past 7 yrs, you’re right I don’t know jack!). A CNBC friend of mine said, “I think people think I just don’t want kids”. How terrible to think that people would make that judgement too! It’s a lose lose! My heart breaks for you & at least you went carbs & protein, I’d have been all out cake batter ice cream with cookie dough mixed in inside a waffle chocolate dipped cone!
This is certainly something I wish I could fix for you, as do all of us who have come to adore you! I’m just sorry, sorry you endured all of the fertility crap with no joy at the end, that breaks my heart!! I hope those pilates beanpoles know how blessed they are!
It is sucky-suck-suck-tastic. And I hate that we all, all of us who are CNBC, know this pain. I just don’t even try to contribute to mommy chats with most people. I obviously know nothing about kids, I just studied child development and worked with kids as a therapist. Yeah,I have nothing to bring to the table.;-)
That ‘selfish’ idea makes me crazy. That has to be so damn infuriating. I feel for her.
I find I crave all carbs less than I used to. I wonder why that is. Your feast does sound rather amazing. I had no idea that such a concoction exists.
Thanks, sweet you. I too hope that the Pilates beanpoles know how lucky they are, I really do.
God I have BEEN where you are. For years I was the only childless single person in the room. I felt their pity and it was awful. I always tried hard to be the most glamrous or best dressed (as a kind of armor but it didn’t really work) but it didn’t matter- they knew they had the Motherhood badge.
Single childless women get a bad bad rap in Australia- they are marginalised and patronised.
I hate the famous lady on your behalf.
I am pregnant. Don’t ask me how my body pulled this off, I don’t know and can’t explian it because I had some pretty horrible Failures along the way. Yes it is thrilling, but so was my life before (apart from the sadness and fear etc).
I am excited but also scared about transitioning into that weird motherhood world.
Please avoid these women in the future. Some of the happiest people I know are childless.
Stay strong xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Thanks, Fuchia. And I am so very happy for you.
xo
Yeah, I am going to definitely avoid them.
My dear, food can be bliss-inducing, and I have a strong belief in the pleasure that food can trigger (in all seriousness).
I baked chocolate chip banana bread this week as a present to myself for finishing a big stack of grading. Go you for giving into the spaghetti
.
My other comfort food (besides dessert) is Indian food. Highly recommend it.
Miss you lots and lots, brilliant lady.
Oooh, chocolate chip banana bread. You so deserved that! Well done.
I <3 Indian food. It feels like comfort food/soul food. It is incredibly nurturing and sadly it is also very high fat.;-)
Miss you LOTS. Wish you were here!
Hi
I have been thinking about you and the dreadful lunch all day. Hope you are ok.
Thanks, Fuchsia! I’m good. I am better than I was when I wrote this post.:-)
This is so beautifully expressed. Thank you, as always, for having the courage to express what most of us push down. Your courage and honesty make you the most beautiful person I know. Sometimes we do need to feed that deeper hunger, even if we are left with a bowl of emptiness. However, you are proof that feelings of emptiness do not indicate lack of depth, beauty, courage, aliveness. xo
You are a sweetheart. I am just happy that this hunger isn’t an everyday occurrence. If it was I would have to triple my gym time.;-)xo
I have been there too, many times — the only childless woman in a room full of mommies. Not a fun feeling.
I feel sorry for that famous woman’s children. Of course, she may turn out to be an excellent mother, she may regret ever saying she didn’t want children. I hope so, anyway, for their sake.
Harrowing and heartbreaking.
I’m sorry about all this, and I really can’t believe how much it’s dogged you after all this time. Of course, these feelings never really go away, but one would hope their intensity would diminish over time. I’m so sad to read that this hasn’t happened for you.
And I want to dump a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs over famous woman’s head.
I know the lateness of this post is like handing in a term paper a week late – probably a C- at best but having said that I just had to write…..
I want to say I cannot believe the insensitivity of the “famous woman” when you had that meeting, however I am sure you and I both have been there/done that before and will probably do it again. It’s the nature of the beast with Infertility. It just plain sucks though!
I literally felt your pain & exclusion while you were sitting in that room with the mommies.
Oh the looks…..those awful awful looks you get.
“Yes Ladies….she actually DOES know something about parenting…you shmucks!”
I am glad you said “screw it” and ate that fantastical bowl of spaghetti & meatballs (it sounded delish by the way) I think your soul needed it at that moment and you listened.
That emptiness you saw in the bowl in the end…..oh the emptiness….what can I say?
I hurt so much with you at that moment.
Just know that by putting this all out there, I believe you are filling that bowl right back up. You helped fill me up a bit just by this post – thank you for that and for just being you.
Hugs and love