Jo, good point! The many comments from SAHMs who feel their lives of Dora the Explorer and cleaning toilets and grocery shopping are meaningless have made me realize, yet again, that the sense of a secondary life–or the struggle to reconcile the contingencies of time with the values of eternity–is something we all have to face.

So what is a meaningful life? This discussion has forced me to think through my own assumptions on the matter. Thanks.

Has your friend looked at adopting through DSS (which costs nothing, and I have a friend who has adopted three perfectly healthy African-American babies without any problem, because everyone else on the list wanted Caucasian babies) or internationally? I adopted a 5-year-old as a single parent, and while it put me into major debt (it was an international adoption), it certainly wasn’t ANY problem finding an older child to adopt — there are literally thousands of non-Caucasian, non-baby children out there to adopt. Granted, the chances that you will get a child with issues is greater (my child has fetal alcohol syndrome and all the accompanying difficulties), but I really wish more infertile couples would give older kids and kids with special needs a chance. I realize some people only want babies, and preferably babies with no special needs, but I have to say, there are GREAT rewards in adopting older children AND in adopting children who are have special needs. As a single, working parent, it hasn’t been easy by ANY means, but I wouldn’t trade my special needs daughter for all the healthy babies in the world, and my next child will also be at least above age four. They need homes desperately and they are overlooked 95% of the time. Just a thought. My daughter appreciates her adoption in ways a baby who is adopted will never grasp — after living in foster homes or orphanages, to finally have a loving home is just a miracle for these kids.

Your thoughts are so familiar. As one who has experienced infertility (or should I say, still experience) these types of threads are so painful because inevitably, someone says the very thing you wish that they would not say….because they cannot possibly understand. Infertility is a death that you grieve every day. But perhaps, as the years go by, it rears it’s ugly head only at baby showers, or holidays, or family history searches, or…..but it never fully leaves.

The only answer that ever filled me with peace was that the Lord understands this, and me. You are not secondary. Your status in His kingdom, here on earth and in the world to come, is measured by Him and Him alone. And He knows your heart.

And for those who are interested in adoption, please know that there are other reputable and wonderful agencies out there besides LDS Family Services. LDSFS is notoriously behind current research in its adoption practices, policies, and beliefs.

God bless.

I think I can understand some of where you are coming from. Like you did a lot of babysitting in my younger years, and I hated it. I’m the oldest of seven, and unlike my next sisters Lynnette and Kiskilili, I’m not particularly a little-kid person. (I like working with adolescents better.) I’ve become more interested in and attached to children as I’ve gotten older, but as a child I hated babysitting and hated having to put up with younger children. Growing up I never wanted to be a mother; I saw it as unglamorous, relentless drudgery. Your point about a family history of mental illness has crossed my mind as well. So honestly, it came as a surprise to me that I really wanted, and still want, to have children. I’m not sure I can explain why I do, even to myself.

Your question about a place for the childless by choice in the church is a tough one. From what I’ve seen, and I’m sure from what you’ve seen as well, the church seems to emphasize the “multiply and replenish the earth” commandment pretty unequivocally. It’s hard to see how the church can reconcile its stand on the family with deliberate childlessness.

I’m sure none of this is news to you. Again, if you want to respond, how do you think about these claims of the church? I don’t mean my question to sound critical or condescending–there are certainly claims of the church I have my own issues with! I’m just trying to understand.

I didn’t want to go too deeply into because I didn’t want to hijack the conversation too much. My decision is multi-dimensioned (as so many are). I know that one componet is my mother relied on me a lot to help her with younger siblings and I think consequently I don’t have a strong desire to raise them myself as I have already gone through a lot of that.

Another reason is environmental, I am an environmental scientist and I can’t deny the impact the people have on the earth. That doesn’t mean I think people should stop having kids but having lots and lots of kids, well, that is not the decision for me and that is the decision that most of my family members made so I thought that I could kind of “make up for it” by not having children. I should insert a warning here that I don’t judge others for making the decision to have any number of kids, just my personal preference.

Yet another point is both my family and my husband’s family have a strong history of mental illness so that doesn’t seem like a good recipe for a healthy child. And then I’ll go back to my original point of giving myself time to be involved in worthy causes.

I wish that everyone that wanted to have children had that option, but I wonder why those that can’t feel that they are living less of a life. I wonder why we are suspicios of those that chose not to have children and some even accuse them of being selfish. I wonder why those that chose, or through no choice of their own, have no or few children are constantly questioned? Do we put pressure on people to have children when they really didn’t want to have them and therefore children are raised in situations that are less than loving? Are mothers putting terrible strains on their bodies or their psyche because they feel a social pressure to have more children than they really want?

This is not another rant at any church institution, just a question about societal pressures. I would be interested to hear if anyone else felt pressure to have children when they contemplated not having them, to have more than they really wanted or have them sooner than they wanted. I am sorry if this seems like a threadjack, if so, please ignore.

Ideally all families are sealed together, with children born into the covenant and continually sealed together through everyones’ righteousness for time and all eternity.
I was not born into the covenant, and my parents are currently going through a nasty divorce catalyzed by an affair. This is certainly not the ideal. There was a time when I felt like this situation, a situation that affects my family relationships, somehow determined my worth as a person. But, like infertility, I did not choose this trial. Nor did I do anything to cause it. I will probably never experience the opportunity to be sealed to my parents and sisters in this life. But I embrace the ideal wholeheartedly. I can use (and have used) this ideal against myself. I can make myself feel somehow inadequate or flawed because I cannot experience the sweetness of the covenant bond with my first family in this life. (and I worry that I might have inherited some dysfunctional relationship habits, but that’s another story) After accepting a lie that I was damaged goods because of my familial sorrow, I decided to stop. I embrace the ideal of eternal families and righteous lives in the face of my own families chaos. But my inability to achieve that ideal does not disqualify me from joy in this life. Nor does it make me secondary, unless I embrace the adversary’s attempt to turn a beautiful ideal into an evaluative criticism of a less than ideal reality. Then I sell hope for condemnation, and become less than what I might otherwise be.

This conversation also reminds me of a question I’ve returned to many times in thinking about depression: do I simply accept that this is something I’m probably going to deal with for the rest of my life, and focus on learning to live with it, or is recovery of some kind a realistic hope and something I should work toward? I don’t know. At times I think I’ve been better off focusing on the acceptance piece, and at times I’ve really needed to hold on to a hope that things could someday be different.

My daughters have a medical problem that will make conceiving difficult, if not impossible, when they make that decision. My older daughter is bothered by it, but doesn’t long for children like my younger child, Sarah, who is 20.

She’s been married for a year and they want to get some education and financial stability before they try to get pregnant, but she also worries that she may never be able to conceive. It is her biggest concern in life, because she wants to be a mother so badly.

We discuss the situation and she is doing all she can now to prepare to conceive and leaving the timing in God’s hands, despite their goals of education, etc.

She says that even if she is able to have a baby, she will adopt. But I think it will break her heart not to experience pregnancy.

I’ve watched her struggle with many painful situations in her life, always supported and loved by her father and me. We can’t protect her from pain, however. I hate that.

Eve, and others, I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I don’t totally understand your feelings, but I appreciate your willingness to share on this subject. I hope I can be sensitive to my child.

Denae, you raise good questions about choosing not to have children and whether there’s a place for that in the church. I wish I knew what to say, but that’s pretty far outside of my experience. If you want to say more about it, why did you choose not to? (If you don’t, no problem–I understand the desire for privacy.)