There is a medium in which I exist.  A space not fully defined.  A life with little reason.  A place of unbelonging.

I do not belong at the company picnic.  Where the men shift weight around the barbecue or cooler, discussing the work and cracking jokes at one another’s expense. And where the women gather at one table, talking about the small town daycare options, making lunches and t-ball practice while keeping one eye on the bounce house at all times for their little ones.

I do not belong at the beauty salon.  Sharing congrats and “you look amazing” compliments and stories of how, “when it’s over, you just can’t believe that your body could do such a thing!” While the nail technician rubs her perfectly round belly and bites her lip in anxiousness.

I do not belong at the office.  Where everyone else has a special schedule to accommodate school pick ups and jog-a-thon meetings.  Where calling in sick applies to not only the employee but for their children and where the childless must accommodate vacation times for those with. But those with do not for the childless.

I don’t belong on social media.  Where my online life has little meaning because I’ve not a child to give it as much.  Where “there is no better feeling” than sleepless nights.  Where my life is incomplete since I do not have a family of my own for whom the waiting & struggles were well worth.  And where the rest of the world rushes by, one post post or one photo at a time, while mine is frozen still – with no changes or new news to report.

I am unbelonging.


3 thoughts on “Unbelonging

  1. I’m glad to find you here and read some of your blog tonight. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I’m looking forward to reading some more. I share many of these feelings and know how hard it is for me. Heartbreaking. I often feel that sense of not belonging too, when surrounded by family and friends with children. It would be one thing if I was “child free” by choice, but I’m involuntarily childless. It’s because of my health conditions combined with our life circumstances. I feel responsible and guilty for what I can’t do. I so desperately wish I could share in those experiences of parenting. I’m hopeful we will somehow, probably through adoption. Anyway, you may not feel like you belong in some circles but you’re not alone in that. I know there will be lots of love and happiness in my life, but I also think this grief will be with me always. Wishing you well and hoping you take good care of yourself through this painful time.

  2. I can understand the sense of not belonging. On this path of infertility, I’ve often wondered if there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Something about being a childless woman in today’s society, it’s easy to feel “less than” when we are bombarded with the message that one’s life finds meaning only through procreation. I’m struggling with this now. Just wanted to drop a note here to say I hear you, and you are not alone. I hope we both find joy, meaning, and purpose, whether through motherhood or outside of it. I started my own blog just recently to help grapple with finding myself again, and finding joy no matter how this journey ends. Best wishes to you. ❤

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