To all my friends without children, I am sorry!
There is a stage of life where it seems as though having kids is an expectation. You are settled in your career and married, and according to everyone else your biological clock is ticking. Planning to become pregnant starts to come to the forefront of our minds.
Whether it is something you plan to do immediately or in the next few months/years, the focus shifts from how to prevent pregnancy to how to make it a reality. But the reality is, we don’t often have as much control over this as we may have thought we did. Some of us will be lucky and get pregnant without much stress or intervention, but for many women that is not the case. The process of getting pregnant will be as far from sexy or exciting as what you thought it would be.
It is in this stage of life that assumptions start to be made. If you are not pregnant yet, why? People ask you over and over again if you plan to have kids. Or ask when you will have kids. Like you haven’t thought about it. Like it is any of their business. Each time someone asks you these questions, your heart breaks. Each time you hear that another friend of yours is expecting, your heart breaks a little more.
So, to my friends who don’t have kids yet, I am sorry!
I am sorry for whatever your personal struggle might be. I am sorry that we live in this society that does not understand how personal this process is.
The journey to becoming a parent is unique for everyone. Some of you have chosen to share what has been going on. The months of trying, the IUI switched to IVF, the miscarriages. And some of you have been silent, choosing to keep your struggles a secret from me. I am sorry for each and every one of you who feel that your dream of becoming a parent is just out of reach.
I am sorry that I do not always know what to say. The reality is that I can’t relate. I don’t know the feeling of taking pregnancy tests month after month and only seeing one line show up. I don’t know what it feels like to give yourself shots daily. This is the first time you will purposefully inflict pain on yourself for the wellbeing of your child. And I certainly don’t know what it feels like to have to say goodbye to the little life you were growing that you will never get to hold.
I am sorry that I had to share with you that I was pregnant. And I am sorry that I also had to share I was pregnant again. While I know you were happy for me, and you said all of the right things, I also know that I broke your heart a little in sharing this news. I am sorry that my moment of happiness was a moment of desolation for you.
While I am sincerely sorry for each painful moment you have had to experience, what I am most sorry for is how this has changed our relationship. We are no longer in the same phase of life. How could you want to be around me and my children? I can only imagine how hard it is to talk with me about what you are going through. To talk to me while I am pregnant or holding my newborn while my 2-year-old runs around. To share the pain of your struggle while I seem to have so much of what you may want for yourself.
I don’t always know the right thing to say, and that is hard for both of us. I want to support you and be there for you, but I also know that at times my presence, or that of my children, is not something you can handle.
As we continue to move forward in this journey I hope that we continue to find ways to connect. I hope that we are able to establish a basis to our friendship that can withstand these struggles.
And more important than anything, I hope that you find a way to be fulfilled in your own journey into motherhood.
Jmore parenting columnist Talya Knable is a psychotherapist who lives in Lutherville with her husband, Stephen, and their two children, Jack and Leigh. Her website is tkpsych.com/ She is also the assistant clinical director of Shalom Tikvah (shalomtikvah.org/), a local non-profit organization that supports Jewish families facing mental illness and other challenging life circumstances.
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