Side Nine: Adult Television

No, I don't mean porn or Bleu Nuit or that kind of thing. I mean the likes of Toopy Binoo or In the Night Garden or Johnny and the Sprites that are not on our tv. Ever. the only reason I know of the aforementioned shows is that my Sister speaks of them as G or E's favourite show. Goodtimes is all about Thomas the Tank Engine.

NOT author and Husband, not watching stupid kids show. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

I have inadvertently watched a few moments of these shows. I have to say, the grown men who dress up and dance and sing as some bizarre character creeps me out. Watching them jump around, talk in weird voices and sing silly songs seems emasculating to me. I have no idea who or what those things are on In the Night Garden, and Iggle Piggle gives me the heebie jeebies.

I'm really glad I have no child who loves these shows, is obsessed with these shows and needs to watch these shows in order to STFU. That is an amazingly bright side of barrenness.

Side Eight: My Body is My Own

Yes, yes, I am sure there will be some mothers who will be horrified by what I consider to be an Upside to Barrenness. My body is my own.

I have sat through mother friends discussing the state of their nipples, their episiotomy, their third degree tears. I still shudder at that one. I have heard them discuss the fact that jumping jacks are off limits apres bebe, although who does jumping jacks after age ten. They laugh cautiously at the fact that hearty laughter can bring on dribbles. They talk about the time little baby's mouth was bloody from their raw nipples. They talk about how many stitches it took to put them back together. All this for a child. No, thank you.

The Author.

The tipping point for me was when I saw the commercial for vaginal mesh. I went dizzy, then I realized that being barren means that vaginal mesh will likely never be an option for me. Thank the goddess. My vagina will never have to be stretched to nightmarish proportions to bring a child into this world, therefore leaving my lady bits intact and my underpants dry. That is a very bright upside to barrenness.

Side Seven: Bathroom Privacy

Although my life is child-free for the most part, I have had a recent run-in with my nephew that makes me glad my husband and I are barren. I was in the bathroom, pulling my pants back up when the door swung open. There was G, asking what I was doing, all innocent-faced and cute. I squealed, shoved him out of the doorway and slammed the door. My privacy, my precious privacy was violated.

As my Sister wiped G's eyes - he cried when I shoved him, more out of shock than hurt, I'm sure. I am not an ogre - she said that was nothing. Then she regaled me with tale after horrific tale of privacy lost.

It's oh so quiet. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

The time G was doubled over laughing when he saw his father naked. Having a little person wave your poo good-bye for you. E's fascination with what my Sister is wiping. G laughing and saying "I see your bum crack" as she steps out of the shower. Having two little people calling for you while you're showering. Sister says the children even knock at the door when she's trying to do a bit of business in private. That would drive me nuts.

Bathroom time is sacred time to me. It's a place to do your thang all alone, with you and your thoughts and your scented soaps. I can shut the door to my bathroom and do what I need to do in peace. Being able to do your bathroom business without laughter, pointing or nagging is a very bright - and quiet - side of barrenness.

Side Six: Spontaneous Trips

It was a dull Monday afternoon and the skies threatened rain. Husband looked over the table at me and asked me to go see Captain America. It was about a quarter to noon and the movie started at 12:30 pm. We saw that showing and it was a wonderful movie. 

One evening, Husband and I just finished dinner and I suggested we go for a walk to get ice cream. We left the house right then and there. 

One morning, as I got out of the shower, Husband asked if I wanted to go for a walk on the waterfront. I got dressed and we headed out.

NOT the author and Husband frolicking on the beach. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

The upside of barrenness is that Husband and I can walk out of the house whenever we want to do whatever we want without the logistical planning reserved for NASA. My sister came for a visit this winter, and although Edmonton in the winter is the pits, she was giddy. She was on a trip without G or E, and she was most excited to be able to leave the house with just her purse. Sometimes on our walks, we just bring house keys. No bags, no diapers or bottles, no strollers… just us. Cheesing it on a moment’s notice is a very bright upside to barrenness.

Side Five: Hot Coffee

The scene: early in the morning, I get up, make a pot of coffee and have a warm cup or two before getting ready for the day. The coffee is creamy, smooth and hot. That cup of coffee stays hot until I drain my mug and reach for another.

Hot until the last drop. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

My siblings often lament a cup of hot coffee. The other weekend, we were all at my parent’s house and I made a pot of coffee. My Sister and her husband and my Brother were downright orgasmic to wrap their hands around a warm mug and sit and drink the entire cup. The kids were occupied with Husband at the time and on the other side of the house. They told me that every time they pour themselves a mug, a child wants this, someone starts to cry, another poops, someone's cereal spills, the channel needs turning, someone needs a drink... and the whole time their precious cup of coffee goes cold.

Such a simple pleasure in my world was seen as an indulgence in those with children.  I wonder when they’ll be able to have a hot cup of coffee and finish it before the cream gets scummy on top. In the meantime, I think I pour myself another cup, another warm, delicious cup. It’s an upside.

Side Four: Poop Has Its Place

When my niece and nephews visit, I often end up saying “I smell feces.” There is usually a child with a full diaper and me bolting from the room. I can change a diaper and will do so in a pinch, but I have no desire to volunteer to clean a poopy bum. Husband is even more averse to poop. Last summer, while visiting during a heat wave, he had to change G’s incredibly poopy bum. He said he almost puked on the child when he revealed a smelly poopy diaper in 40 degree heat.

My sister likes to share tales from the poop file. G didn’t make it to potty on time. E’s diaper was so full it smeared up her back. Someone pooped on the couch. There was poop in the car seat. The colour, the state, the smell – she shares it all. 

Where all little turds go to heaven. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphoto.com

In our home – our adult home – poop has its place. It stays securely in the toilet and is flushed cleanly away. Being barren means that our couches, our car, our bed, our floors, our walls, our hair, everything will remain clean, fresh and free of feces. THAT is a big upside of barren-ness.

Side Three: Uncensored Swearing

I fell in the shower today. I slipped, ripped the shower curtain down, brought the rod crashing on my head. Husband found me on all fours, naked, soaped up and swearing like a longshoreman. I was furious, and hurt, and the only thing that could come out of my mouth was “Damn you m************ s*** a** shower curtain. F*** this …” and so on and so on.  In a situation like that, a curse is in order. Now, if G or E or Goodtimes were over and within earshot, I would have gotten in trouble for swearing in front of little ears, or I would have stroked out trying not to swear out loud as I gingerly got up off my knees.

Not author, but she understands the sentiment shown here. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com

 Which brings me to another upside of barrenness… swearing – out loud, at someone, at something, out of frustration, out of anger, with glee, with excitement, or just be-f***ing-cause. I have a bit of a potty mouth, and although I try very hard to keep my sour tongue to myself around the kiddly-winks, sometimes something happens where a good goddamn will work better than any other word. I curb my colourful language around little ears, lest E’s first word rhyme with muck.

Side Two: A Disney-Free Life

Someone once told me I had no soul because I hate Disney. 

Photo courtesy of photobucket

The princesses, the glitter, the pirates, the commercialization, the World, the Land, the whole shebang. I have never liked Disney, even as a child, and I must say that when the idea of bearing children came into my world, my biggest fear (after third degree tearing) was enduring Disney.

I don’t want to get all hyper-feminist, super-political here, but the gender roles perpetuated by this heinous corporation makes my blood boil. I hate the idea of little girls growing up thinking they’re princesses, waiting for their prince charming. And this whole “get it now before it goes back in the vault” movie marketing scheme makes me scream. As if we won’t see the same schtick for Fantasia in five years.

I know that I will never have to shell out thousands of dollars to bring my kids to Disney, only to spend the whole time giving myself and aneurysm trying not to scream. I will never pose with some skid in a Pluto costume, pretending to be excited. Nor will I have to traipse around a manufactured hell in deadly heat, waiting in line for a picture with a CGI Tinkerbell. A child-free, Disney-free life is good, indeed. And for the record, I do have a soul.

Side One: Sleep

My sister yawns a lot. She and her husband can’t keep their eyes open past 10 pm. I have had co-workers who complained about not getting to bed until 4 am. My brother is a stellar napper. Why? Kids. The children keep them up, wake them up and deny them hours of good rest.

A fantastic Sunday for Husband and me goes like this: Sleep until 10, make banana pancakes, putter around the house, afternoon nap. When my sister calls on a Sunday and I sleepily say “oh, we were just napping” and it’s 1:35 in the afternoon, she always says it must be nice. Oh it is, Sister, yes it is.

Not author and husband. Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

When my sister was breast-feeding G, she was delirious. He was a ravenous child and she spent the first few months topless, feeding this little monster. One night, in the pre-dawn hours, she had just finished feeding G. Her husband was burping him, and she drifted off to sleep, breasts exposed. My parents’ dog was nearby, and this dog was very curious – about the new happenings in the house and what my sister was doing with G. The dog scurried to my sister’s feet, looked up at her bare breasts, licked her chops and started to hop up for a taste of the glistening goodness for herself. My brother in law shooed the dog away. My sister has no recollection of this because she was too tired to notice.  I have another friend who tried to breastfeed her cats because she was too tired to notice what was next to her in bed. I can say with all confidence… This will never happen to me. I will never be too tired to notice that an animal almost suckled from me. And if I do get into that state, it was my own doing and I can get the sleep I need to keep house pets away from my breasts.

The Upside of Barren-ness is sleeping – in, late, on the couch, in the afternoon, after supper, before lunch, any time you please. I don’t need to steal a few minutes of sleep here and there – I can go to bed and stay in bed for hours. Being barren means you are fully rested, and if you aren’t then it is your own choice, not that of a child.

The Upside of Barren-ness

My husband and I got some news this spring. I hesitate to classify the news as devastating or sad, but it was certainly life-changing. We cannot have children.

While we were planning our wedding and our lives together, children were always a part of the equation. We knew we would like to have a couple in the coming years. Just not right then. So I went on birth control and we went about our way getting married, getting settled, moving and so on. 

The day after my 34^th birthday, Husband and I were lounging about and the topic of babies came up. We consulted the calendar, looked at our life plans, evaluated our finances and came to the conclusion that it would be the right time to try for a family. A month passed. Then three months, then six and then at nine months, I went to my doctor. I was concerned since I would be 35 soon and all the literature I read said that fertility decreases at 35 and, with panic in my voice, asked him to send us for testing.

I did my routine tests – the blood, the urine, the ultrasounds. Husband did his part, too. Nothing is more surreal than squealing through the streets while your husband cradles a warm cup of his sperm. We walked his sample into the fertility clinic and were met with a sea of couples with the same look on their faces. The women looked scared but hopeful. The men made little eye contact. The air was heavy with anticipation. We left our sample and waited for the results.

The tests came back, and our doctor said there looked like there were some anomalies, but refused to elaborate. He referred us to a fertility specialist. We waited for that appointment, but it was at least a six month wait. The health system in Alberta is atrocious. After we were added to that long list, I saw my doctor again, to see if he could shed any light on why my uterus remained empty. He said that the chances of us conceiving were slim to nil.   

Husband and I were sad, to say the least. We had hoped for a child and this news – this slim to nil news – came as a blow. In the backs of our minds, we always suspected that we might never have a baby, but now it was confirmed. No baby for us.

We considered adoption or in-vitro. In-vitro was soon eliminated as a choice. I hate needles and neither one of us were prepared to shell out thousands of dollars for a chance at a child. As we talked over the choices for us, we came to a realization.

Maybe we are not meant to be parents. Maybe we are meant to be a really good aunt and uncle to the children already in our lives. Maybe we are destined to be the childless couple. Husband and I tossed this reality around for a while and realized that this is what is meant to be. Whatever sadness we felt at the idea of no baby quickly evaporated and we felt liberated.

My sister has two children – G, 3, a boy and E, 1.5, a girl. My brother has one son – Goodtimes, aged 1.5. We talk a lot and I listen to their tales. With every stain of poop, with every exhausted yawn, with every utterance of the phrase “what about the kids?” I thank my lucky stars for the life that Husband and I have. And I take notes for this blog.

This blog is for all the childless couples out there. Sure, being barren can suck, but there is an upside. Let’s explore the upside together. Leave a comment, leave your own experience, leave your insight. Let’s celebrate the Upside to Barren-ness!