Grieving the loss of something you’ve chosen not to have
Can you be sad about something you don’t want?
Hi friends,
How are you doing? In my last letter I shared a few dreams I said no to with little grief attached and hinted that there was something else in my life I’ve said no to, but felt accompanying grief. And that something is having children.
I am currently childfree by choice and, honestly, didn’t think I would feel any sense of grief or regret about this choice… But then I did.
This is what I want to talk about today and I know this can be a difficult subject, so if it’s not something you want to hear about right now, I promise I won’t be offended if you stop here, I’ll catch you next time.
The moment came on a train journey. I was heading home after a weekend with friends and I remember feeling a familiar dark cloud descending. At the time, I wasn’t sure why. I’d had a lovely weekend, we were there to throw a baby shower for one friend and I’d spent some quality time with another friend’s family which left my heart feeling so full. Yet… here I was feeling my mood sour with ever passing minute.
The cloud brought with it a strong desire to numb myself and for a few days there I slipped back into some unhealthy behaviours (related to a previous eating disorder). Thankfully, this didn’t last long and I was able to pull myself out of those behaviours quickly, but it was a stark reminder of how quickly a relapse can sneak up on you.
After I moved out of that dark cloud, I had the clarity to reflect and ask myself why it had happened. I realised the feeling I was trying to numb was grief.
I was feeling sad about the fact that my choice not to have children meant I would never be thrown a baby shower. I would never have the family life I’d witnessed while staying with my friend and the family she’s worked so hard to get.
This sadness was such a strange feeling to hold. It was there, and it was heavy, but it was me who put it there. I’ve made a conscious decision (with my partner Dan, of course) that motherhood isn’t something I want and this sadness didn’t change that.
So, along with this sadness, I also had to hold the joy of making the right decision for me. Holding both things was tough, so in a way I’m not surprised I reacted the way I did.
I think the reason it hit at this particular time too, rather than after the first of my friends got pregnant, was that this baby shower was for the last of my inner circle of girlfriends without kids. When her little one was born, I officially became the only one of our tight-knit group without kids. And that meant there would always be a small, but significant part of their lives I couldn’t truly relate to.
I am incredibly lucky. These friends have never once made me feel like this. They include me in conversations about motherhood, and some have even said me not having kids allows them to talk about things they may not otherwise talk about. I love that I can have this role in our friendship group and I love seeing them flourish in their roles as parents, it feels like such a privilege.
So this grief felt like it came out of nowhere. I remember a couple of years ago, after Dan and I had talked our decision through, his therapist mentioned the need to grieve the life we wouldn’t have. When he told me this, I truly didn’t get it, I thought ‘but we’ve made this decision, why do we need to grieve?’. Now, I get it.
This video from School of Life discusses this idea - that no choice is cost-free - eloquently. It talks about life’s decisions and that with every decision we make, there’s a path we’re saying no to and that of course can bring a sense of grief, but it’s also wholly unavoidable.
It’s quite confronting, and I’m not sure I agree totally with some of what’s said, but it is oddly comforting.
It’s been six months since that moment on the train and I realise now there will always be a little grief for me to hold about this decision. It isn’t there all the time, but I know there will be moments when it pops up and I’ll need to make space for it.
I’ve also learnt more about the concept of cold regret, something the brilliant team behind We Are Childfree wrote about - fleeting feelings of ‘what if?’ while knowing you’ve made the right choice. This is something I feel comes hand-in-hand with this type of grief.
The older I get and the more time I spend with my nieces and friends kids, the more content I feel, knowing I get to experience the joy of having kids in my life, without having my own. This all further cements the decision I’ve made and makes those moments of grief feel easier to hold.
While I’ve written specifically here about the choice to have children, I feel this grief is something we can experience for various things. We can chose a path and feel sad about the path we’ve closed off. We can hold both - the sadness and the joy - it’s just about finding ways of making them easier to hold, I guess.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this - has anyone else experienced the holding of these two things? I feel like parents reading this may well shoot their hands up, after all, choosing to have kids closes off certain paths that may need grieving.
Perhaps other life choices have left you feeling like this - moving somewhere new, a career choice. Let me know in the comments, I’d love to hear your experience.
Until next time, take care.
Kat x
Thank you for being so vulnerable and open with us about such a personal choice, Kat.
I often think a lot of these feelings come down to the fear of the unknown which is, of course, the path we didn't choose. Now that I'm in my 30s, I've grieved and made peace with the paths I didn't take and love the life I live. But I certainly grieved not living abroad for longer, and not having the traditional career path many of my peers did. (Being involved in the blogging world eases this! I adored my freelance biz!) I'd like to have children someday and it's a huge fear of mine that perhaps I can't, but I won't know. Eek. I'll keep the lid closed on that for now.
It's a strange one for me. I have one child. I sometimes grieve the life I could have had without a family, and that includes my husband, weirdly. But sometimes, I also grieve my choice in not having more children, made after receiving a diagnosis of MS. I have to remind myself of all the very valid reasons why I made that choice. It works mostly, but there are always niggling feelings that I keep burried deep