Babies are the New Birkins

What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting

When 90’s supermodel Tatjana Patitz passed away this year from metastatic breast cancer, it was a jolt to my system. I was shocked, saddened and it kicked up some fear given my own health history. I read a bit about her life and looked at some of the gorgeous work she’d done - including the photo above taken by Peter Lindbergh for Vogue. 

I had a visceral and surprising reaction to the picture, what it represented to me. She looks like a beautiful matriarch in streaming sunshine surrounded by dogs and a son, warmly shepherding them from one point to another, looking ahead. 

My sadness over a stranger’s passing quickly morphed into grief about a life that I wasn’t going to lead, about the children I wouldn’t have. I texted a screenshot to one of my closest friends and said, “This was what I thought my life in California would look like.” 

I thought I’d move to the Golden State and meet my guy, have surfy babies, raise a family in a house filled with books and adventure gear. But other experiences found me instead. Really good ones. 

I fly-fished in mountain streams. I road-tripped north and south. I arrived in Big Sur, dusty on the back of a motorcycle, and ate an ice cream cone in the grass. I woke up in a tent and went surfing with friends. I climbed mountains, cooked, laughed, wrote, made cocktails, threw dinners, hosted beach hangs that stretched into evening. I tripped into the cosmos and back. I found out that despite its sunsets and hot springs, I don’t much care for the desert. I became a dog mom, and an auntie to a small tribe of girls. I did work I love and learned a LOT. I intently, slowly repatterned myself from the stressed out New Yorker I was when I arrived here. 

I’ve had romantic heartbreak along the way, too. But the tired old trope of a middle-aged woman who’s been discarded or been done wrong doesn't apply here. If I'm being really fair, I’ve probably handed out as much disappointment as I’ve received in that department. Unfortunately timing and chemistry are two things we mortals cannot control. 

At a juncture we tend to look in both directions. Clearly I’m having a take-stock moment as my 10 year stint in California comes to a close and I round the bend towards turning 50. Sometimes we need to mourn what isn’t in order to embrace what is. There are so many different permutations of grief, the spectrum is endless (and there are just as many kinds of joy). In this case, I’ve had to call out what I’m mourning in order to let it go. 

• The standard issue trip to the gynecologist in my 20’s when my nebbish, white male doctor, handing out unsolicited advice, told me to prioritize finding a life partner (as if I hadn’t been?) because time was running out. I suggested he start a dating column. 

• The afternoon I sat down with a financial planner in my 30’s and said, “If I did this on my own, what does a kiddo really cost?” And when she walked me through it I was nearly on the floor in a puddle of dismay. 

• The day in my 40’s my then-boyfriend and I went to “the best” fertility doc’s office in Beverly Hills and looked around the big waiting room, witnessing a tense mix of fear and misery. The panic attack I suppressed, only to ride down in the elevator with a woman sobbing quietly, slumped into her consoling, neutered husband. I observed that fertility clinics felt more like birth control. 

• Going on to another expert, fully expecting that we were starting our family journey based on my imaging and bloodwork, only to be told, “Surprise! Nope, folks.” I could maybe have a baby, but it wouldn’t be with my DNA. Welcome to Gattaca. 

• Coming to terms with the decision to not manipulate my body with hormones in order to stay pregnant with a donor egg - which could potentially trigger a new cancer occurrence. Been there, done that. No thanks. 

• Despite being grateful for my survivordom, being angry (yet again) that having breast cancer at 31 stole so much from me - a precious window of time and health. 

• And finally, the recognition that I was out of options and this dramedy had come to its close. 

There is no stationary to send for these kinds of moments, not even at a Los Feliz boutique that sells ironic cards for $9.00 a pop. If I talked about this topic, I was met mostly with pity rather than sympathy. It made people uncomfortable. But I didn’t need pity. I needed to grieve motherhood, to let go of perpetuating my family’s lineage, and say goodbye to the experience of being loved as a mother. I had to rewrite what the concept “a family of my own” even meant. 

That’s a lot to unpack. It took a bunch of journals, time, and most importantly conversations with a group of amazing women who were living beautiful, child-free lives in order for me to come out the other side. Sometimes you have to create the rituals you need. 

I bookmarked these photos years ago because they felt like a moment I was living towards. Now when I look at them I see children being elevated as accessories, almost like status symbols. (Babies are the new Birkins?) The actual work of parenting isn’t depicted here, the worrying that never ends, the exhaustion and overwhelm. Nope, it’s just some skinny ladies with kids. 

I’ve gotten to the point where I can say - out loud and mean it - that I’m glad I’m not raising children right now, in this wild, uncertain world. And that doesn’t make me any less of a woman. I also give myself permission to “mute” feeds with baby bumps. I can be truly happy for people without watching their journey on social media. I don’t resent it. It’s just not interesting to me any more. 

So yes, what I thought would happen could fill canyons. But as I pack my belongings into boxes, mostly I’m grateful for what is, and excited about what’s ahead. I don’t know who or what is going to be in the “frame” of my future, but if my time here in California has taught me anything, even if it’s not what I expect, it will be wonderful. 

If you found this at all helpful (or amusing), please give it a like or drop a comment below. And if you know someone that might enjoy my perspective, kindly forward it along. Your participation is everything.