Childless on Mother's Day

To all the women who thought they would be mothers, but things never played out the way they thought it would. To the ones so full of hope and deep desire to be a mother, and who have been willing to sacrifice just about anything to try to make it happen:

I feel for you. For that feeling of loneliness that comes with a desperate longing in the heart and bones to finally have a child of your own---shunted by a period that ends the sentence sooner than expected, with a finality that haunts. It’s too late.

But wait, “So-and-so knows someone who had a baby at the age of 48, and they’re pretty sure it was natural…” That’s all it takes for that little spark of hope to be lit again.

It’s easy to wonder if the period could actually turn into a semi-colon; if the years of appointments, acupuncture, visualizations, supplements, caffeine & alcohol-free years could actually amount to something, could actually be worth it. The hope that feels good for a bit, but is also wary of any false notions and is exhausted by the burn of disappointment.

It’s a funny limbo to be in, bobbing between realism & possibility.

I’ve been bobbing here long enough that I lean more in the direction of realism these days. There’s a surprising acceptance that comes with it. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t had nights where the grip of sadness in my heart is too tight to sleep. But now, I find myself more often happy to wake up in the morning feeling rested, without a crying baby. I leisurely get ready, take the dog for a walk, make a cup of ½ calf coffee (which is indicative of the fact that I haven’t completely given up hope, so I better keep the caffeine levels low ;) and sit down to work.

I’m reminded of a good friend of mine who tried every avenue possible to have a baby, only to finally have one who now keeps her up most of the night wailing and clambering for her sore, chapped nipples. I feel for her when I wake up and recognize how nice it is when I’ve slept through the night---when I didn’t have to get up to pee, let alone comfort a crying baby.

And yet somehow, mothers do it day after day, and report that their kids bring them more joy than anything! It feels like the ultimate contradiction, to have something that makes someone sleep deprived, strapped for time, & stressed out, yet also, brings the most happiness down the line. Life is full of contradictions, but this one feels especially extreme.

I recently purchased a weighted stuffed animal, after feeling jealous of ones my 15-year-old stepdaughters have. I tested out each of them out in stuffed animal isle of Target to see which would feel the best to hug in the middle of my wakeful perimenopausal nights.

When I got home and showed off my new, baby dinosaur, a stroke of innocence flooded one of my teenage stepdaughters. "Let's dress it up in baby clothes!" she suggested. I suddenly remembered a onesie I had been saving in the back of my closet, for if and when, I ever had a baby of my own.

Initially, it felt a little sacrilegious to now put it on a stuffed animal instead of the baby I had been hoping for. I wasn't sure if it would fit (since it looked especially tiny), but low & behold, it fit perfectly! Not only that, but it was color-coordinated with it's spikes!! I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of how strangely meant-to-be it all felt.

In physics, there’s the saying that “nature abhors a vacuum”. Now that having a baby is not front & center in my mind, it’s interesting to see what other things fill that space.

Whether it's a stuffed baby dinosaur, or enjoying more time to devote to aspects of my work that I wouldn’t have otherwise---finally finishing off projects like “The Focus Formula---Strategies for Calm, Clarity, & Success,” or even writing a blog such as this. I have more time for friends & my family members that are aging & live afar. I’ve stepped up my exercise regime since I know how important movement is for my body & brain, especially as I get older. I’m that much more acutely aware of my motherly love for my dog & cat, boundless in their love & affection.

As cliché as it sounds, I’m also turning more of my attention towards for our mother earth. I simultaneously appreciate my time in nature, and grasp at what I can personally do to make some impact, to help take care of the Mother that has provided for us all…

I'm inviting some of my other childless friends for tea on Mother’s Day to brainstorm more of what we can do with respect to the natural environment; I’ve pledged to give 10% of my income from Jan ’25 to June 25 to an organization called Tree Sisters which plants trees & works with the surrounding community to empower them to get involved. I know it’s a drop in the bucket, but it’s a start.

So yes, while it can be hard to be a childless mother on Mother’s Day, there’s also solace in how many ways there are to be in this world. Ways to create. Ways to love. Ways to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Ways to devote our time & energy, and still feel a sense of purpose. Ways to start a new sentence, even when the last one has ended. And ways to still keep the door cracked open for some wild miracle.