Month: May 2019

The Grief of No One to Share a Season With

Childfree

In the last few years, most of our friends became parents. As our friends’ lives radically shifted, I began to feel a radical shift in my life, too. Grief. I have struggled with depression throughout my life. I have felt deep, gnawing pain for no reason and I began to fear that, despite having it under control for several years now, I was entering that territory again. 

As I struggled through the work of finding the source of this new pain I realized something. I wasn’t just grieving the loss of my friends to their new world—a world I wasn’t entering and never will enter—I was grieving the loss of having friends in my season of life. 

I have been truly blessed with wonderful friends. Friends that root for me and that have supported me in my new adventures. Friends that have come along side of me and prayed with me while I waded through an unexpected and undiagnosed health issue. We have bounced ideas around for hours and laughed and exercised together to the point I could barely breathe. My friends are a huge part of my life. They are part of my family. But they are leaving my season of life. And I have started to fear making new friends for fear of that grief hitting yet again.

A few days ago I came across a post on Facebook of two acquaintances enjoying the beautiful summer weather together. The caption spoke of learning and sharing parenthood together, of spending time with people who understood their stage of life, and my heart broke a little. 

My husband and I have talked about the pain that comes with being a childfree couple in the church. Although we have many friends who have older children or grown children, or who are single or childless, we don’t have friends who are specifically childfree. We don’t have someone to share and learn with about being a married couple purposefully living without children. 

As newlyweds we were surrounded with other newlyweds that we could navigate the intricacies of marriage with, that we could share our struggles and triumphs with and who shared their struggles and triumphs with us. But as those couples chose to birth children and we chose to remain a family without children we lost the camaraderie of living in the same season of life. When this revelation hit, I realized that I had not fully grieved this unexpected aspect of being childfree.

I long for another couple that we can discuss the difficulties of not being seen as a family, the triumphs that we achieve that have nothing to do with child-raising, the unique ability that we have to glorify and obey God. Another couple that fully understands what our life is like. 

As a Bible study leader I talk often about the importance of community. God created us to live in fellowship with one another. Sometimes that involves people who don’t share our same seasons of life or experiences. But we also need people who are or have been where we are. We need someone who has seen life through our view. Part of community is finding people who understand us. 

This is something that those of us in the miscellaneous pile often lack. Many in the church are married with kids. They have an easy time finding one another. Those of us in the minority groups need your help, church. Those in leadership usually know many more and far more about the people in the church than the ordinary attendee. I ask you to please use those resources to match us up. Help us to not lose the community of people who are like us. Help us to fight the grief of having no one to share life with. 

The Invisible Burden of Mother’s Day

Childfree

I adore my church. It’s my family. They work so hard to love people well and to ensure that people feel welcomed. But as Mother’s Day approaches once again, I am reminded of a glaring blind spot in that well-intentioned desire.

My husband and I have chosen to be childfree since we got engaged. We talked about potentially having kids five or ten years down the line when we were dating, but as we got closer to marriage we both realized that neither of us had the desire to bear or raise children. 

Although we haven’t told everyone in our church, simply because not everyone has asked, most know about our lack of desire for children and, especially those closest to us, understand it and see that we utilize the energy we would be using to raise children to serve others in our church and our community. 

Our church is full of people who don’t fit the average American household. We have singles over 30, foster families, families grown strictly by adoption, families with both adopted and biological children, divorced families, and remarried families. I know that our church leaders try to make sure every family is included. But sometimes, that intention of inclusion is what makes us feel so apart. 

Ever since my first married Mother’s Day, I felt out of place. At that point in life I already knew it was a title I never wanted for myself. I love mentoring young girls, and as I get older, young women, but I never saw myself as a mom, in any capacity. 

That first Mother’s Day, I tried to do what made the most since to me: remove myself from the celebration. This was a celebration for those who longed to be called Mom but hadn’t gotten the chance yet, those who became mothers and felt overwhelmed and under thanked, those who jumped head-first into motherhood and loved every minute of it, and those who had taken on the role of mother to children that aren’t their own.

I had purposefully extricated myself from that role. So I sat, as all the mothers and those who desired to be mothers stood around me to receive their small token of appreciation. Then I was forced to stand. It was certainly well-meant–it was a woman who saw me removing myself and surely thought I deserved to be standing. So I stood, awkward and feeling more singled out by standing. 

I never feel less respected for my choice to remain childfree than on Mother’s Day. The day where everyone tries to see everyone as a mother, so no one is left out. And I want every woman who desires to be a mother to be honored. They should be. This is a day to celebrate them! But I also want to be respected for my choice to never take that title. I want to be allowed to be left out. I want to be allowed to sit and celebrate others rather than be forced to celebrate myself in a capacity I have chosen to never take on. 

I spent the last Mother’s Day at my church hiding in the women’s bathroom waiting for that portion of the day to be over. This year, I’m not even going to church on Mother’s Day. Our church does a wonderful job loving people. But this is a day when the misfits become the trodden on.

I ask for one simple change. Allow those of us who have no desire for motherhood to remove ourselves and let the spotlight shine on those who truly desire motherhood.