https://thejewishindependent.com.au/facing-the-taboo-of-a-child-free-life
Confronting the taboo of a child-free life
Not all fertility journeys end with a baby. For some a child-free life is liberating, for others childlessness is a lifelong challenge.
Illustration: TJI
Published: 8 August 2024
Last updated: 8 August 2024
This is the final instalment of a six-part series, Be Fruitful: Fertility Journeys in Modern Jewish Lives, which explores the complex and sometimes taboo journey to parenthood in the Jewish community.
In a community which values continuity and all but idolises parenthood, not having children can be especially hard.
For some, childlessness is a deep grief, aggravated by isolation and even shame. Others embrace a life without children, saying it has brought them closer to their Judaism and unlocked the ability to explore other passions.
Here, three people share their stories of life without children with The Jewish Independent.
Michael (LHS) with husband Gregory and “special dog” Buddy (Image: supplied).
I came out as gay in 1995 when I was in my mid-twenties. I grew up knowing that I wasn’t destined to have a traditional heterosexual relationship. I never planned a wedding, and I never had expectations that I would be a parent.
People in my circles, especially in my smaller Jewish circles, were getting married and having children, and I wasn’t doing that. I started feeling more of a desire to be a parent, which was something that had never happened before.
I was approached to be a sperm donor for a lesbian couple I was friends with. The idea of co-parenting was very appealing, but they wanted to move overseas with the child, and I wanted to be actively involved in parenting, so it fell through.
I thought about being an altruistic sperm donor but in the process, I discovered I had fertility issues. That was a huge blow. It was ironic because I wasn’t desperately trying to be a parent, but the prospect of not being able to because of infertility was shattering.
I met my now husband in 2008, and he had two teenagers who didn’t need more raising. They had their mother and their father. My husband’s daughter now has a son – our grandson. It’s taking time but I’m warming to being his Poppy Mikey.
Nobody ever talks to me about how I feel or acknowledges the fact that I don’t have children. It’s this elephant in the room, which is hard to deal with.Michael Barnett
Not being a parent is isolating. I couldn’t participate in parenting conversations or compare the progress of my kid’s journey or achievements. None of that was due to being gay, it was just my circumstances. I felt like an outsider.
What’s worse than any of that is not having conversations about being childless. Nobody ever talks to me about how I feel or acknowledges the fact that I don’t have children. It’s this elephant in the room, which is hard to deal with.
The Jewish community didn’t support me. Jewish continuity is so specifically focused on the life cycle – getting married so that you can procreate. Same-sex couples make wonderful parents, and the law recognises our marriages, yet parts of the Jewish community actively exclude us.
I don’t know how you include people who aren’t parents in family celebrations and Jewish festivals. I don’t know how you make us feel connected. Often being around those events is painful in itself. It’s a reminder of what you don’t and can’t have if you’re infertile or if you’re beyond being able to become a parent.
Having conversations, being understanding and not leaving people in isolation is so important. Community forums on coping with not being a parent would be helpful for people who are childless not by choice.
Not being a parent has given me opportunity to do other things in my life, such as more activism, supporting LGBTQ+ people through Aleph Melbourne, travelling, and living without financial burden – but none of it takes away the pain and the anguish of not being a parent.
