The woman glanced back over at me, peering up through heavy-lidded eyes, drugged in an oxytocin fug. Her blissful state as she gently rocked her tightly-swaddled newborn back and forth in her lap was at odds with the searing words rolling off her tongue, burning into my skin like acid.

Sure, she was smiling – one of those aloof, close-lipped grins reserved for those who know more than their recipient as they impart words of wisdom. Smug.

She could have left it at that. The inference was clear: as a Non-Mum, I hadn’t reached the hallowed gates of True Love Heaven. Yet she continued.

I was still reeling from the bullet of the first statement, which had hit me full-on in the face, square between the eyes, when she reloaded her verbal semi-automatic and took aim for a second time. To put me out of my misery, presumably – which would probably have been kinder in the long run, I think now with hindsight.

I forced myself out of the depths of my mind, which was currently replaying my friend’s last statement on repeat, taunting me like a broken record, and back into the room as I became aware of the sound of her voice starting up again: a continuous, low-level drone, like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons. The indecipherable sounds slowly swam back into focus until they became sharp, clear as a bell:

“…as a parent, the world just…I dunno Sam…it just looks different.”

Was there an audible thud in the room as those words tore through my body? I looked around, expecting to see an exit wound, thick red blood spattered up the magnolia walls of my sitting room. Nothing. There’d clearly been no sound, the gunshots must’ve ricocheted off the squishy sofa cushions, I figured, because she continued, oblivious, and the baby never even stirred.

“I mean, people told me how amazing motherhood would be – how life-changing – but I had no idea until this little angel appeared in my life. It’s as though I’ve been blessed, you know? As if my entire life has been building up to this moment. It’s like we’ve known one another forever.”

I’d heard her say that last sentence before, years ago, about a boy she’d been dating for five minutes. I’d laughed it off with an accompanying eyeball roll. She’d ghosted me for a while, to pursue their ‘relationship.’ I’d done the same to her on occasion, to be fair. But this was different. I knew I’d lost her for good this time. I mumbled something incoherent, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t listening anyway.

“It’s like my life has meaning now. I’ve got a purpose. I know what I’m for.”

She obviously hadn’t gauged my wide-eyed look of horror, recoiling in shock as I slumped back against the soft furnishings, the innocuous surroundings of my home disguising the fact that I felt like I was under siege by this, this stranger sat before me wearing my old mate’s clothes.

I wanted to leap up, turn off the telly (which incidentally was playing some inane daytime show aimed at other women, different women, who, unlike me, also had a “purpose”), and bellow at her: “Do you actually know what you’re doing to me right now?!” Can’t you see the wounds to my heart that your machine-gun volley of verbal shots is causing?!”

But of course, I didn’t. I smiled and drank my tea and made all the acceptable congratulatory noises, rather than the wild-animal wail I wanted to release from deep down in my soul. She was my friend. I wanted her to be happy. I was happy for her. I decided to let her have her moment. But it wasn’t easy. Because ‘her moment’ would last a lifetime.

And mine would never come.

September 10th – 16th is World Childless Week. To find out more go to www.worldchildlessweek.net. This article has been featured here in the Parents section of the Huffington Post UK. 

Sam x

The post You Never Know True Love Until You Have A Child appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Argh! It’s happened! My newsfeed is full of back-to-school snaps!
Well, fear not, Non-Mums, because next week is our week :

Stephanie, founder of World Childless Week, and I recorded this video chat last week to tell you all about it.

The daily themes:

Useful links:

World Childless Week

The Non-Mum Network

Childless Path To Acceptance

Childless Chit-Chat

Childless Perks

Gateway Women 

Please share this post or create one of your own about World Childless Week to help raise awareness of childlessness and show your support for Non-Mums everywhere.

Sam x

The post World Childless Week appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

That is how I feel as a childless woman. I am that plimsoll. I have ended up in a place I did not expect to be, and people tend to view my life with curiosity or suspicion, occasionally make a flippant comment or two…and then walk on by.

I mean, it’s not as though the plimsoll has a family at home worrying about where it is, is it? Perhaps if there were a couple of baby plimsolls looking forlorn at the foot of the tree then people would take an interest, reach out and get it down. But seeing as it’s just a lone shoe, not even a pair, there’s not much point worrying about what’ll happen to it, is there?

We live in a pronatalist society. Despite the rampant destruction by insatiable humans – our arrogance reassuring us that the planet and everything on it is ours, at our disposal, put here merely for our convenience – we continue to view reproduction as our sole purpose on Earth. If you fail to produce a family, as a woman at least, you’ve failed at life. Or maybe just missed the point.

Are childless households still families?

Earlier today, I glanced up from my laptop just as those loose-lipped lizards over at Loose Women were discussing whether or not a household without children in it can be described as a family. Seriously?! Which century are we in? Jane Moore smugly points out that the (antiquated!) dictionary definition of a family is “two parents and their children” and must be “blood relatives.”

We all have a story…

Conversations can often fall flat when you reveal you don’t have children – and later, grandchildren. The childless become adept at side-stepping awkward conversations, displaying verbal fancy footwork as we dance around painful topics, carefully guiding the chit-chat onto safer ground. Of course, there is always a story – just not one we necessarily want to have with a virtual stranger at the bus stop, or a well-meaning relative at a wedding. I recall one “family friend” laughing like a drain as she reached out to pat my stomach at a party, exclaiming: “Still nothing in there, then?!” I guess she wasn’t to know that I’d just had my third unsuccessful round of IVF.

Why we need World Childless Week

One in five women today will never have children. There is a multitude of reasons why: choice, infertility, circumstance. Yet still we sit on the sidelines of life. We’re like extras in a film, as the main cast – the families – take centre stage. Everything is geared towards parenthood and traditional “family life”: at the supermarket, on television, in the media. “Family-size” food portions. “Family” days out. It’s relentless. But, gradually, the tide is turning. Childless women are speaking out. Childless men, too, are slowly stepping out from the shadows. We finally have a platform, and now, with the impending second anniversary of World Childless Week next week(10th-16th September), we are speaking together. Our collective voice is getting louder.

I spoke to Stephanie Joy Phillips, founder of World Childless Week, about how it came about, and how she’s championing childless people everywhere:

So instead of eyeing childless people with suspicion or disdain, or dismissing them as “non-families” please consider for a moment: how would you feel if the shoe were on the other foot?

For more information about World Childless Week, go to www.worldchildlessweek.net, follow the World Childless Week page on Facebook or the World Childless Week account on Twitter. 

(Incidentally, whilst searching for an accompanying picture of shoes in trees, I discovered that shoes in trees are actually a thing.)

Sam x

The post Like a Shoe in a Tree appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

If you are a mum, I hope this Sunday brings you all the treats that you deserve, be that a lie-in (depending on the age of your children this may be possible…or as likely as a trip to the moon), flowers, chocolates, breakfast in bed – or maybe a Sunday lunch out with your family. Perhaps even all of the above, if you’re really lucky! It’s your day – make the most of it.

If you’re a childless woman who struggles through Mothers Day with a smile, all the while holding it together and praying the day passes by as quickly as possible, here are a few tips for getting through the day as painlessly as you can:

1. Focus on your own mum

If you’re lucky enough to have your mum around, cherish her. If she’s anything like my amazing mum (aka De Mama) then she probably deserves a medal. None of us know how long we have with our loved ones, but the fact is, we’re all on borrowed time. I’ve been fortunate enough to have two amazing holidays with my mum recently, and have written blogs about both our Costa Rica and Thailand trips. Make memories and capture them. They are far more valuable than buying ‘stuff’.

2. Be kind to yourself

If you don’t have children to buy you flowers on Mother’s Day, why not treat yourself to some? You don’t have to be a mum to be worthy of some beautiful blooms, like these ones from Prestige Flowers. They brighten up your home and your mood. Childless women can feel down in the run-up to occasions like Mother’s Day and Christmas, as well as the big days themselves, as it reminds us of what we don’t have. Allow yourself a short period of reflection, then remind yourself how strong you are and how far you’ve come and slay the day, girlfriend! You are a warrior woman! And warriors deserve treats.

3. Book a trip

It’s not Mother’s Day everywhere in the world! If you’re feeling overwhelmed by sadness at the prospect of Mother’s Day, book a trip to a place where it’s not Mother’s Day at all! Here’s the list of who celebrates when. I know people who have lost mothers or children who do this, and it helps to take their mind off the day’s celebrations back home. Ditto Christmas. Of course, Christmas is Christmas wherever you are, but if you’ve ever had December 25th somewhere hot when you’re from a cold climate or vice versa, you’ll know that it feels so unlike your traditional celebrations that it hardly seems like Christmas at all. I still can’t get over the feeling of spending Christmas Day on the beach in Sydney one year – weird, but fun!

4. Have a Non-Mother’s Day date

Get together with your childless/childfree mates (if you can find some – we’re a rare species) and have an alternative Non-Mother’s Day celebration. If you don’t have non-mum mates, join a group (like mine: The Non Mum Network) and find your tribe! Avoid traditional family eateries as they’ll be full of families and Mums Go Free! offers (ahem, what about us?!). Choose a swanky, family-unfriendly establishment and enjoy the chilled ambience and (uninterrupted!) chat.

5. Stay off social media

You know your newsfeed will be clogged up with proud mummies showing off their gifts and family snaps. In the name of self-preservation, stay away. It’s just one day. Tomorrow those same mums will be back to bemoaning bad behaviour and asking if it’s wine o’clock yet. Count your blessings

That’s it! Whether you’re a mum or a non-mum this Mother’s Day, I wish you a wonderful day filled with love and laughter.

I was lucky enough to be gifted these gorgeous treats from Prestige Flowers which I had sent to my mum for Mother’s Day (don’t worry, I got her my own gift too ). There’s a huge range of flowers available for every budget and preference on their website. Next day delivery is available if ordered before 9pm, there’s a £5 off voucher inside your order, and there’s even a free box of luxury chocolates thrown in at the moment too. Result! My mum was delighted with her early Mother’s Day treats – I’m sure yours will be too.

Oh, and non-mums – go on, treat yourselves!

Sam x

PS – Non-Mums, did you know that there’s a CNBC Magazine, and World Childless Week? I told you we count too!

An abridged version of this article has also appeared at Huffington Post UK here.

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (lifeabirdseyeview)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Celebrating Mums (And Non-Mums) On Mother’s Day appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

So not me, then: a straight, white, working-class, able-bodied woman?

If you see me walking down the street, dressed up to the nines to meet my friends for a night out, or on my way to work, you’d be forgiven for assuming I was the epitome of Western privilege, and in many ways I am: educated; employed; financially independent; a homeowner, albeit mortgaged – although otherwise debt-free.

Yet despite appearances, I am part of a minority group. Allow me to explain….

84% of the population reproduce
87% of women become mothers
1 in 8 couples have infertility issues
1/3 of those cases are male factor, 1/3 female, 1/3 unexplained
11% of women have fertility issues
Fewer than 3% of those require ivf
IVF has around a 25% success rate each cycle, meaning 75% of all IVF cycles fail
I had 3 failed IVF cycles
That puts me in the less than 1% of the general population who remain infertile and childless as a result of failed ivf.

So let me ask that again. Do you still think I’m not part of a minority, discriminated against accordingly?

Before you get the violins out to play the soundtrack to the world’s worst-attended pity party, the reason for this article is simply to raise awareness for the upcoming World Childless Week. Society is geared towards family life, since that is the accepted norm: the average British woman has 1.9 children. Those who do not fit this accepted status are often viewed with suspicion: seen as less nurturing and caring, more narcissistic. Selfish.

Sociologist Louis Wirth defined a minority group as: “a group of people who, because of their physical or cultural characteristics, are singled out from the others in the society in which they live for differential and unequal treatment, and who therefore regard themselves as objects of collective discrimination.”

I regularly experience discrimination, prejudice, lack of empathy and understanding, a “them and us” attitude from many parents, and general social ostracisation. This is despite the fact that, like many of those belonging to minorities, I attempted to conform. I longed to be Mrs Average; to fit in. I tried my hardest to join the 8 in 10 women who are mothers. I wanted to chat about buggy brands and breastfeeding with my besties, not sit squirming on the sidelines whilst everyone discusses potty training, or how to get their offspring to eat vegetables.

People are attracted to those they have something in common with, so it stands to reason that parents seek out other parents – not least for validation and reassurance. Attempts by childless women to contribute to conversations about child-rearing are generally met with dismissal and disdain (it’s understandable – what would I know about the reality of sleepless nights and toddler tantrums?). It’s inevitable that even the strongest and longest of friendships are altered forever when one party becomes a parent.

Later, the conversation shifts to schools, exam results, puberty and boyfriends. Their children are becoming adults. The next stage in this lifelong test will be my friends becoming proud grandparents, and the entire cycle of social exclusion will start again.

Of course, I’m fully aware that compared to those from other minorities, I could be considered one of the lucky ones. My minority group membership is invisible (initially at least, until I get asked those dreaded questions: “so, how old are yours then? Boys or girls?”). I won’t get called a “freak” or have racial abuse hurled at me in the street. But on the flip side, nor will I receive any concessions or allowances based on the fact I’m from a minority group, since it’s not obvious that I’m part of one. Contrary to appearances, I DO know how it feels to be excluded; to be eyed with suspicion, curiosity or disapproval; to be made to feel “less than.” We are not as different as you might think.

So next time you see me in the street, remember: there’s always more to any situation than meets the eye – even for a privileged white, middle-aged woman like me…

Are you a Non-Mum like myself? Would you like to join like-minded women to discuss everything Non-Mum-related? Join my club, The Non-Mum Network here. If you would prefer to chat privately, you can email me at sam@lifeabirdseyeview.com.

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Minority Report: Them and (a much smaller) ‘Us’ appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.