One thing that stayed with me after my conversation with was how our ancestral communal ways of living weren’t that long ago.

That’s where the grief keeps waving up for me. I grieve for the loss of our communal origins, for our unfulfilled birthright to a communal way of living.

Everyone benefits from community. Parents and childless and childfree people alike would feel less alone, less separate, and less overwhelmed.

What would it be like to build more bridges between parents and non-parents, between the child-free community and people with children?

Because social oppression affects us all. And it grows in strength when we are divided. What would happen if we came together in a new way that’s actually an old way, too?

A question I’m sitting with now:

In our conversation, Nisha gave us so many insights and connections to ponder.

One gem that I’ve been turning over in my mind was when she said:

“What other worlds are we not acknowledging that can be created?

I can have my space and I can create bridges and connections. And this isn’t something that, you know, speaking generationally, has to just happen in our lifetimes, right?

I think we have to work with what we have and then build from there.”

Over to you:

What other worlds do you see as possible for the future? What “third way” that we can’t clearly see is sitting there, waiting for us?

Share your thoughts in the comments, I’d love to continue this conversation with you.

Get more from Jackie Toth, Childfree LMFT in the Substack app

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This will be an hour dedicated to creating a shift our daily life from individualized to communal, with a small group of people going through the same experience as you.

JOIN HERE

On one hand, we are told that because we don’t have kids, we are not invested in society.

On the other hand, we are typically not welcomed into conversations about parenting or raising children.

Should we be? Is that even an appropriate space for us?

When do we get to wear off the stigma that paints our childless lives as selfish, overindulgent, self-absorbed perma-retreats?

So many of us push ourselves into overworking, overachieving, and under-caring for ourselves in a shame response to that stigma, even if it brings us beyond the brink of exhaustion.

What is so shameful about rest anyways?

And why can’t parents and nonparents help each other with resting more?

“All flourishing is mutual,” says Potawatomi botanist Robin Wall Kimmerer.

How can we, as childfree folks, evoke this mantra in cultures that center parenthood and families? How can parents call us in to a mutual space where together we can enact this ecosystemic truth?

How can we transform this double-bind into an intricate web of interconnectedness?

A recent New York Times article written by Jia Lynne Yang highlights how the American family is becoming unsustainable in our hyperindividualized culture. The byline is a call to both parents and nonparents: “Society has treated parenting as a private endeavor. But what if raising children is also a public good?”

Yang notes that across the political spectrum, “an idea is re-emerging that raising children is not a private concern alone.”

While the benefits to parents are clear within this paradigm shift, what are the implications for childfree people if our culture attempts to pivot from viewing the family as a private unit to a more communal investment?

It turns out that childfree folks are not the only ones who have been historically accused of overindulgent life choices. Yang introduces Robin West, a legal scholar who attended a panel at her law firm in the 1980s and witnessed an audience member ask the panel about maternity leave. In response, a lawyer dismissively conveyed that “the choice to have a child . . . was like a decision to sail around the world. In other words, an individual act of extravagance.” Yang drives the point home:

See how sneaky patriarchal pronatalism is?

We all get screwed in the end.

This is why Nisha and I decided to talk about what it means to build a community of childfree-ness in a hyperindividualistic society.

Deconstructing this topic awakens stirring—and sometimes uncomfortable—questions:

• Is there really such a thing as “childfree”?

• If so, how do we claim our childfree-ness without participating in hyperindividualism?

• How can we really make a contribution to a more communal culture as childfree folks, one that regards raising children as a public good? And how do we do this without sacrificing our own visibility?

• What does all this mean for those of us who want nothing to do with children: raising them, hearing about them, eating dinner at a restaurant a table away from them???

• How do we meaningfully interrupt this purposeful, by-design dividedness between parents and nonparents?

• And if we do come together, how can we maintain a stance of multiplicity around parenting, nonparenting, gender, and reproductive identity?

As you can see, I have more questions than answers. I love when that happens!

So, dear readers, I leave you with quite a cliffhanger. Come see how it all lands when I dive into the gorge with my amazing colleague and friend, Nisha Mody.

We welcome your questions too. Feel free to leave them in the comments, and we will make sure to address them in our chat.

JOIN US:

Building a Childfree Community in a Hyperindividualistic World

A Substack LIVE Conversation with Nisha Mody and Jackie Toth, Childfree LMFT

Thursday June 18 at 3:30pm PT/6:30pm ET - add to your calendar here.

All you have to do is Subscribe to either one of our Substacks to get the link (or you can get really crazy and subscribe to BOTH of our Substacks!)

Subscribe now

Register by donation here

Our attention is constantly pulled in many directions at once. Inputs, demands, and noise compete for it, and often win out. In this way, we can become disconnected from our attention on the present moment.

This is a guided, small group sensory awareness session for childfree & childless folks, led by Ayana Amoa. You’ll reconnect with presence and embodied awareness.

You’ll learn how to return attention to your body, your self, and your immediate environment. The focus is practical and also experiental. You’ll experience coming back into direct contact with what is happening, as it unfolds.

Ayana will slow things down enough to notice what is already present underneath the thoughts and distractions. You’ll have space to explore sensations, practice awareness, and observe what becomes known when attention is no longer scattered.

You’ll leave with a simple way to return to your inner attention in daily life, and kindle a relationship with your lived experience.

Registration for this BY DONATION event ends tonight. If it feels like a good way to enter the weekend, you can register here.

Building a Childfree Community in a Hyperindividualistic World
A Substack LIVE Conversation with Jackie & Nisha Mody
Thursday June 18 at 3:30pm PT

RSVP Here

Something that can feel a little embarrassing to talk about is loneliness as a childfree/childless person.

Many people have learned to equate independence with strength, and to move through life without much (if any) support.

Nisha and I will come together in this Live to explore what changes when that script gets flipped and attention shifts toward connection and shared presence with others.

As a childfree individual, what would your life look like if you felt like you were really a part of a community? Not in the outskirts, but embraced? What could you offer, and what could you receive?

Why is it so hard to make friends and find real community as a childfree person? If you’ve ever asked yourself that question, this conversation is for you.

Mark your calendars and RSVP here.

I hope to see you there!

It’s been a while! I feel like I’ve been away for a loooong time. It was a busier-than-usual thesis season this year, and I admit it took me a bit longer to bounce back.

The first half of the year in all of its intensity has left me thinking a lot about rest, the rhythm of the nervous system, and inner prosperity for me as a childfree/childless Gen X woman.

Inspired by these counter-cultural ideas, I’m excited share with you two upcoming events I am hosting on Substack. These events are open for all in the childless/childfree community to attend.

Sensory Awareness with Ayana Amoa

Slow down, arrive as you are, be present with your Self
Saturday June 13
By Donation | Suggested $10

The first event hosts a return of the wonderful Ayana Amoa for another Sensory Awareness Workshop on Saturday, June 13.

In this workshop, we will explore our familiarity with the self— reintroducing ourselves to ourselves. This is an invitation to slow down, arrive as you are, and spend intentional time in your own presence. Together we will create space to feel, allowing yourself the opportunity to simply be with you as you are. Come with all the love that you carry.

Register for this special event

Substack Live! Cohosted with Nisha Mody

Building a Childfree Community in a Hyperindividualistic World
Thursday June 18 | 3:30-4:30pm PST

The second event is super exciting: My first ever Substack Live, cohosted with the brilliant Nisha Mody!

Nisha Mody, aka HealingHypeGirl, is a certified life coach, speaker, and is writing a memoir about her abusive marriage and mother wound. Her evolution has taken her through six careers while subverting the expectations of being a Good Indian Girl™️ by getting divorced, being childfree by choice, getting two master’s degrees she doesn’t exactly use, and starting her own business to guide others toward their own freedom.

More Juicy Updates On the Way

Stay tuned for more events this summer, as well as some juicy updates to MMWOK as I approach our first-year anniversary. Oh, and a sale on paid subscriptions!

(Teaser: I plan to share more about how you can craft purpose in your life as you age without kids.)

This is a photo of me and my mom on Mother’s Day, 1983. I always put it out on my altar every year around this time. I was so excited that she let me write the caption on the back of the photo. It felt very grown up. 😊

The presents were flowers my mom planted when we first moved into our family home in 1976 when I was 4. I remember her burying bulbs in the pre-existing beds scattered along the front and sides of the house and how she tended to the rose garden that ran the length of the backyard along the fence. Being 11 when this photo was taken, I did not have access to a savings account to purchase a real gift for my mom. Plus, money was super tight back then. This was the first Mother’s Day we spent together after my dad left. This cheery photo conveys the resilience we kindled over that past year, along with the flickers of hope for more healing and rebuilding to come.

That morning, I stood on a chair to grab from the high cupboard over the kitchen counter my grandmother’s bud vase that we inherited after she passed the year prior. “Don’t look!” I instructed my mom, as I went outside and wandered around our yard with a pair of shears, carefully choosing the flowers to assemble into a small bouquet. I always loved my mother’s flower gardens. So did she. Based on the expressions in this photo, I am pretty sure we both felt that this gift was priceless.

My mom died in 2010 from complications related to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). She journeyed through a lot of other physical and emotional challenges throughout her life, which confined me in the role of caregiver from an early age.

This photo—and the memory it encases—is one I cherish the most in my collection. You can see this photo has been well-loved over the years. It preserves a moment in time that was pure, light, uncomplicated—a late morning in early May that was sunny and warm, the scent of Mom’s lilies of the valley wafting through the living room.

Just a simple, easeful moment between a mother and a daughter, before the complications of chronic illness inverted that relationship too soon, and for too long.

What I also love about this photo is our matching jeans. This was NOT intentional! My tween self would have died before dressing in matchy-match outfits with my mom. It’s hilarious to see how we are kinda twinning without realizing (or admitting) it. I always dug my mom’s aesthetic: little to no make-up, one thin gold necklace around her neck that she anointed with a kiss of musk, fringy oxfords with a bit of a heel, a blazer, and her beloved pants.

My mom loved pants of all kinds. I could count on one hand how many times I saw her in a skirt or dress. Recently, I saw a photo of her as a young girl—probably about 4 or 5—standing amid the gaggle of her 4 older siblings, all “properly” dressed in what seemed to be church clothes. There was my mom, with her dark hair in a pageboy cut, her dark eyes staring bigly at the camera, her porcelain skin smudged with a bit of dirt, wearing a pair of wrinkled linen pants and a half-untucked blouse with a round collar. Beth the baby, the tomboy; Liz, Lizzy, Elizabeth: she was called by many names. It wasn’t the abundance that made her fortunate: It was that each of them carried genuine fondness by those who used them.

Some years are more griefy than others. This is one of those years. As I walk through this familiar porthole of mother loss today, my grief seems mycelial. It feels twisty today, this grief. I seemed to have let go of my mom’s hand as I meander along a fork in the path, opening a wider landscape of this terrain. As my gaze catches something in the distance, I feel Mom following behind me.

There are many others here with us—an infinite number of figures of all heights and widths, swaying in the breeze, outlined by a bronze sky lit afire by the sun. As I approach them, their forms become clearer.

There are fellow companions who walk this path of early mother loss.

There are those who wished to be mothers or parents and never saw their hopes, dreams, and longings come to light.

There are those of us who chose to not be mothers, enduring marginalization, judgment, loneliness, or fatigue around navigating our lives outside of dominant narratives.

Wisps of dandelions squall and settle atop the terrain, a thick dusting of sorrow for our Earth, whose treatment by humans correlates to the treatment of female bodies across Her entire surface.

A tinny smell stings my nostrils as grief arises for the mothers in Iran, Ukraine, and other war-torn countries who lose their lives or their children’s lives to bombs and violence driven by men who claim to “cherish” those who procreate (and their offspring—up to a certain age), but instead “cherish” sex trafficking rings run by other powerful men through agreed-upon silence, legal protection, and sharing in the spoils.

Knee-deep in mud, I wrestle with the sinkhole of archetypal motherlessness inflicting our culture, driving its beautifully chaotic soul into exile by rape academies researched by millions of every-day people, the moniker “Motherless” serving as the breadcrumb that helps them find their way to this decrepit doorstep.

As a non-mother, I grieve for the mothers—here and gone—as well as all women, queer, and nonbinary people whose gender/gender fluidity is a hazard, whether or not we birth babies.

I walk through a hot wave of holy outrage as patriarchy scoops out the insides of men and others it purports to raise up; it drags its jagged teeth across the soft, vulnerable spots of human bodies as if it was deseeding a cantelope—and then tosses the innards into a plastic garbage bag, denying them even the sweet release of becoming compost so that they feed nothing.

Suddenly, I am tired. I can hardly pick my feet up to move ahead. The heaviness of my heart grinds me down closer to the Earth. I am immobilized by gravity. My mother seems to have gone. I can’t find her; she is no longer following me.

I look at this photo again from Mother’s Day 43 years ago. Along with the despair and rage weighing down my heart, I drink in our smiling faces and feel my own soften, my eyes dewy. I think of Mom’s flowers and once again allow my eyes to dart around as they look for her. Suddenly, I am immersed in a field of blossoming bushes, blooming shrubs, and dark-leafed plants bobbing with colorful flowers the size of my head!

How did I get here? Or was I here all along? Did Mom have something to do with this? Perhaps we all learn to be green thumbs like her once we pass on so we can till the soil for new growth. Wouldn’t that make sense? I stand in the middle of this bounty—trumpeting tulips, delicate daffodils, dainty lilies of the valley, lively purple irises, intoxicating lavender lilacs, every color and blossom imaginable, as far as the eye can see. I turn slowly to take in the wonder, allowing my hands to gently brush the leaves and blooms all around me. My fingertips encounter something warmer and firmer—my mother’s hand. Grasping for it, our fingers entwine again and, for some reason I cannot explain with words, I know I never have to feel alone.

What does it mean that our griefs can transform into a fecund garden of flowers? How does this happen? Who may we encounter there? I may not have the answers, but being here with Mom among the flowers, the dew collecting in my eyes can water this vast garden, and for some reason that feels like enough, if just for today.

Register to Attend This Special Event

I am excited to share the latest event in my series of salons and workshops exclusively for childfree and childless folks!

It is wonderful to welcome back Ayana Amoa for another Sensory Awareness workshop.

This is a great opportunity to take a break from the intensity of these current times and touch down into a place of restful centering within a collective of others.

What is Sensory Awareness?

Here is how Ayana explains this upcoming event:

“In this workshop, we will explore our familiarity with the self— reintroducing ourselves to ourselves. This is an invitation to slow down, arrive as you are, and spend intentional time in your own presence. Together we will create space to feel, allowing yourself the opportunity to simply be with you as you are. Come with all the love that you carry.”

Register to Attend This Special Event

We’ve Done This Before…

…And Loved it so Much that We Are Doing it Again!

Our first Sensory Awareness event in January hosted by Ayana was a surprisingly powerful and unifying event for all who attended.

Here is a comment from one of the attendees:

“From beginning to end, the experience was calming and heart opening, giving me a new sense of listening from within.... Ayana is a gentle and gifted guide into the realm of the senses.”

Ayana’s steady guidance to make contact with our bellies turned out to be a potent experience that attendees were able to reflect upon during the sharing period. For me, this session inspired my latest Substack post titled My Big, Fat, Childfree Belly, which includes not only a more detailed description of this event but also a consideration of how childless and childfree individuals can reclaim our childfree bellies from the grips of patriarchal, pronatalist culture. Check it out, and then come experience Ayana’s workshop for yourself!

About Our Special Guest, Ayana Amoa

My name is Ayana Amoa and I have been a practitioner of sensory awareness for a year and a half. I am currently in my final semester of the Selver Awareness Leaders Training Institute (SALTI) program. Sensory awareness has given me a richer experience of who I am, deepening my intimacy and appreciation for everything around me—from the gentle touch of the wind on my cheek to the subtle sound of a change falling to the ground. This practice has helped me see myself in all that exists and connect with the aliveness of breath that we each carry within us.

As a leader-in-training with SALTI, this journey is not only about sharing sensory awareness with others but also about continuing to learn and grow through the ever-evolving experience of living and responding fully to what the moment is asking of me.

About the Host, Jackie Toth, founder of Making Meaning Without Kids

Jackie is a licensed psychotherapist in California who offers deep, transformative therapy through a radical grief lens. She offers a special focus on childless-not-by-choice and childfree individuals through individual and group therapy. Her substack, Making Meaning Without Kids, is a community designed to support, unite, and inspire childless and childfree folks through thought-provoking writings and events.

Sensory Awareness for the Childfree & Childless Community with Ayana Amoa

June 13th, 2026 from 10am PT - 11am PT

$10 | Suggested Donation; all funds to go Ayana Amoa

Open to the general public.

Register to Attend This Special Event

If you’re ever wondering what a society values, look at their cultural norms. While cultural norms are usually unwritten, they are deeply internalized within individuals from a young age. Community members assume you’re following these guidelines, and we are often seen as “one of the community” if we follow them.

This can make it very isolating if we live outside of one (or more!) of the cultural norms.

As a Substack about not having kids, an obvious societal norm that I talk about living outside of is raising children.

But there are other societal norms that we may not find meets our needs or personalities.

They include:

• Gender, gender roles, and gender as a binary idea

• Nuclear family & the heteronormative family model

• Monogamous, heterosexual relationships & marriage

• Productivity as value

• Ableism, neurotypicality

There’s a default script, and anyone outside of it is seen as different, confusing, or even deficient or a problem to be explained.

When we’re young, proclaiming that we are going to “go against the grain” and live our lives differently is usually met with a “you’ll change your mind when you’re older,” as though we can’t be fully trusted to know ourselves in our youth.

As we continue to live in our truth, we are subject to social pressure, judgment, or exclusion.

Maybe Beyond Cultural Norms is a Fun Place to Hang Out

I’m reminded of books I read as a child, with the trope of a wise, witchy woman living both metaphorically on the fringes of society and literally, with a house separated from the main village. She has knowledge of the healing properties of plants, and is called upon by villagers during times of need, but shunned at other times.

In reading these books, I always wanted to apprentice under the wing of these subversive role models.

It sounded like more fun to me.

What if people living outside of the cultural norms - childfree folks, nonbinary individuals, those rejecting hustle culture or the nuclear family model - came together? What transformation could occur?

We could offer each other mutual validation and reduced isolation. We would belong instead of being seen as an anomaly. Through shared stories, we can normalize, embrace, and see the gift of divergence.

It would also enable practical mutual aid. What if we could pool resources, share skills, and form a rich network of support systems?

If dreaming about this excites you…

I invite you to join this month’s guest, Shauna Janz, MA, on Creating an Intimacy-Rich Life: Childfree Connection, Community, and Identity Beyond Cultural Norms.

Thursday, March 19 from 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST

$35.00 | General Public and Free Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids
$25.00 | Paid Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids

(No one will be turned away due to financial hardship. Please reach out to me if you need to discuss alternative payment options.)

Purchase Your Ticket

How do you create an intimacy-rich life as a childfree or childless-not-by-choice person?

Join me and my esteemed guest, educator, grief activist, and edge-dweller Shauna Janz for an interactive discussion on how connection, community, and identity can be re-visioned — beyond cultural norms.

I met Shauna several years ago through her online school Sacred Grief, which focuses on the reclamation of life-ways for grieving, ritual healing, ancestral connection, and animate living towards new culture building.

Shauna is a cis-gendered queer woman of Northern European descent who lives with an invisible disability, is a survivor of complex trauma, and who has chosen to be childless, to live solo, and to nurture chosen family and relationship structures outside of heternormative monogamous ideals. You can read her full bio here.

Here’s what to expect from this event:

We will begin with a rich dialog on the meaning of intimacy, and I will explore with Shauna how she has integrated intimacy into her own life. We will also discuss how intimacy intersects with our lived experiences of not having kids.

Then, space will be open for attendees to share, reflect, and ask Shauna questions.

She will then guide us into collective sharing and experiential reflections to explore our own longings around intimacy as childless/childfree individuals.

We will conclude with more time to share, reflect, and engage with Shauna.

Bring a journal and an open heart and mind as we create a beautiful connective time together that uplifts the many ways that both our joy and grief and the presences and absences in our life can be grounds for deep intimacy and fulfillment.

You can read more about the event here.

Purchase Your Ticket

Event Details:

• We will meet on Zoom — you’ll receive the link after you register.

• A recording will be available for 1 week after the event for anyone who can’t attend live.

Tickets are $25 for paid members of Making Meaning Without Kids, and $35 to the general public.

Want to join Making Meaning Without Kids to get access to this event at a discount, along with upcoming events at no cost/a discounted rate? Join the Paid Tier here.

Purchase Your Ticket

XO,

Quick reminder about our March Event: Creating an Intimacy-Rich Life: An Interactive Discussion with Special Guest Shauna Janz, founder of Sacred Grief

Thursday, March 19 from 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST

This event will be a rich dialog on the meaning of intimacy. We’ll learn from Shauna how she has integrated intimacy into her own life, and how intimacy intersects with our lived experiences of not having kids.

Participants will be guided to explore our own longings around intimacy as childless/childfree individuals. You can read more about the event here.

Purchase Your Ticket

As the upcoming event with Shauna Janz on intimacy approaches, I can’t help but think of our current times.

The Epstein files.

The war in Iran.

ICE raids.

All the violence and dehumanization that pours from these open veins.

How can we host intimacy in such a dehumanizing time?

I am a word nerd. I love looking up their ancient origins. In preparation for my chat with Shauna on 3/19, I learned that the Latin root for the word intimate is “innermost.” The prefix in- originates from the Old English word “inn,” inferring the word “habitation,” or “to inhabit.”

Therefore, the word intimacy describes the act of inhabiting an experience from the innermost depths of ourselves.

Think of intimacy in the common ways we encounter this word.

Like within relationships: How do you inhabit the experience of being in relationship with lovers, friends, and family from the innermost places within yourself?

How about intimacy with your body: How do you inhabit the experience of being with your body from the innermost spaces within yourself?

The same questions can be used as a lens to your experiences with:

• the earth

• your larger community

• your soul

• your spiritual practices

• parts of your identity

And on and on. The list of applicable experiences may very well be endless.

Radical Approaches to Loss and Grief

I’ve been reflecting on how I met Shauna early on my continuing path toward a deeper understanding of radical grief. Her name came up in my trainings with therapist Francis Weller, who discussed the radicalness of grief in his book The Wild Edge of Sorrow.

After attending her workshops and consult groups, I found Shauna’s perspective on grief to be liberatory and soulful. I did not expect grief to be a portal to a more felt connection to the living world, but this is what resulted for me after studying with her. Shauna perfectly encapsulates her approach to grief on her website:

Deepening our capacity to grieve, to heal trauma responses, to live a ritual life in reciprocity with the animate world, and to relate meaningfully with our ancestors expands our resiliency and belonging with our self, others and the wider web of relationships we are embedded in. Dedication to (re)learning these skills supports liberatory change towards sustainable, loving, and just futures, personally and collectively.

Radicalness and grief are also something that Activist Malkia Devish Cyril also spoke to in terms of loss. She defined radical loss as a portal that “explores the role of grief inside of social movements as well as the capacity of grief and grief narratives to transform and change our conditions.”

They advised how radical grief and loss are the medicine for these current times:

“The idea is that grief is any response to loss, but radical loss is the ability to move grief in the direction of justice.

Right now, I think we’ve been living in a historical period where the right wing and related forces have manipulated grief toward that to serve the politics of resentment.

They have wielded a reactionary grief that has moved constituencies toward their regressive policies, and I think the left — and those who care about justice and freedom and a future — have to learn how to wield grief for a more radical end.”

Here I am, nerding out again: Did you know that the Latin origin of the word radical is “root”? If we re-vision grief as something radical, according to Shauna, Malkia, and Francis, could we then re-vision grief as an act of returning to our roots?

Tossed about in the choppy waves of collective and personal trauma, even our own bodies–our own sense of self–can feel unsafe. Can approaching grief through intimacy restore us to ourselves in a way that “wields grief” toward collective survival?

Radical Grief is the Realm of Intimacy

Grief activist Holly Truhlar explained that politicized grief work recognizes that grief is never just personal, it’s communal, collective, cultural, spiritual, ancestral, and ecological.

From that framework, we can then see how:

1. The collective is the realm of intimacy.

2. Grief, in its radical, politicized forms, is the portal to this realm of intimacy.

3. Intimacy is the antidote to the illness of individualism.

A recent interview with writer Rebecca Solnit in the New York Times comes to mind. When asked who she believed our next “savior” is, she reflected:

“One of the great weaknesses of our era is that we get lone superhero movies that suggest that our big problems are solved by muscly guys in spandex, when actually the world mostly gets changed through collective effort. Thich Nhat Hanh said before he died a few years ago that the next Buddha will be the Sangha. The Sangha, in Buddhist terminology, is the community of practitioners.”

The emphasis on community is my own. I am so grateful for Rebecca reminding us what Thich Nhat Hanh revealed. And it makes me excited to be fostering a newly forming community of childless and childfree folks, surrounded by other strongly rooted communities of childless and childfree folks. Thich Nhat Hanh’s revelation provides me with hope and a surge of excitement for what we can manifest TOGETHER rather than individually.

In community, we enter the realm of intimacy.

If we can approach our grief as a community with intimacy, we will be able to tolerate the ever-revealing truth together: that these atrocities have been laying dormant like shallowly buried land mines, fed and watered regularly by systems that literally survive off of violence and dehumanization.

Through inhabiting the innermost experiences of our grief, we begin to see, as Holly revealed, all our grief lives downstream from systems of supremacy—white supremacy, human supremacy, patriarchy, settler colonialism, [and] extractive capitalism.

If we can grieve these understandings intimately, perhaps we can re-member what has been dis-membered within us.

Then we can help others re-member what has been (and continues to be) dis-membered in themselves and our shared lineages, communities, and our achingly beautiful Earth.

Radical Loss, Grief, and Intimacy for the Childfree and Childless Collective

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the experience of grief is not one with a clear end, especially for individuals who feel the sorrow of childlesness .

Additionally, it’s okay to grieve the losses that come as a childfree person, even if you are fully confident that you’ve made the right choice.

Paired with the great grief that is felt by the world right now, both childfree and childless folks benefit greatly from the intimacy that comes with community.

Intimacy within our relationships to others, to the land, or to our ancestors also can be a pathway to our way of making meaning without kids, and to our legacies. When we are in community we are uplifted and held just as we uplift and hold others.

Communal care can become a vessel for contributing in a way that counters the social scripts that tie worth to parenthood.

When intimacy is seen as an antidote to grief in this radical framework, it becomes a way for childfree and childless people to reclaim family outside of the nuclear system. Instead, it’s relationships that are chosen, shared, and embodied. This is where the meaning, the healing, and the legacy-making happen.

Thursday, March 19 from 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST

$35.00 | General Public and Free Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids
$25.00 | Paid Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids

If you wish to attend but are experiencing financial hardship, please contact Jackie. No one will be turned away due to financial limitations.

Purchase Your Ticket

I’m sending this note to you from the depths of thesis season. Aside from nurturing my therapy practice and Substack community, I also serve as a Research Associate in the thesis department at my alma mater, Pacifica Graduate Institute.

Every year around this time, I get to shepherd students through the finalization and publishing of their thesis projects. Although it is hard to have a life during this season, it is always a sincere joy to witness the culmination of such an arduous journey that unfolds for each student over a year’s time. Plus, I get to be immersed in a rich environment of potent, innovative research by these amazing authors; I am always transformed by their work every single year.

I feel so lucky to be able to learn from their soul-full studies.

As I think about the upcoming community events here on Making Meaning Without Kids, I can’t help but appreciate the sense of community, mentorship, and connections that are made within bonding educational experiences such as a Master’s program.

While the research portion of writing a thesis can be lonely, it’s the community of peers and mentors that help graduate students overcome obstacles, find clarity, and learn about themselves through the entire process.

As I’ve talked about on this Substack, being a childfree or childless individual can be lonely in our culture as well. But my goal here is to create a community of peers and mentors who can support us to find our path in life–in much the same way a thesis topic can.

Speaking of, I am honored to be hosting some dear mentors and wise guides over the next couple of months right here on Making Meaning Without Kids, and I can’t wait to share more with you!

March Event: Creating an Intimacy-Rich Life: An Interactive Discussion with Special Guest Shauna Janz, founder of Sacred Grief

Thursday, March 19 from 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST
Can’t make it live? A recording will be available for 1 week after the event

$35.00 | General Public and Free Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids
$25.00 | Paid Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids

(No one will be turned away due to financial hardship. Please reach out to me if you need to discuss alternative payment options.)

Purchase Your Ticket

How do you create an intimacy-rich life as a childfree or childless-not-by-choice person?

Join me and my esteemed guest, educator, grief activist, and edge-dweller Shauna Janz for an interactive discussion on how connection, community, and identity can be re-visioned — beyond cultural norms.

I met Shauna several years ago through her online school Sacred Grief, which focuses on the reclamation of life-ways for grieving, ritual healing, ancestral connection, and animate living towards new culture building.

Shauna is a cis-gendered queer woman of Northern European descent who lives with an invisible disability, is a survivor of complex trauma, and who has chosen to be childless, to live solo, and to nurture chosen family and relationship structures outside of heternormative monogamous ideals. You can read her full bio here.

Here’s what to expect from this event:

We will begin with a rich dialog on the meaning of intimacy, and I will explore with Shauna how she has integrated intimacy into her own life. We will also discuss how intimacy intersects with our lived experiences of not having kids.

Then, space will be open for attendees to share, reflect, and ask Shauna questions.

She will then guide us into collective sharing and experiential reflections to explore our own longings around intimacy as childless/childfree individuals.

We will conclude with more time to share, reflect, and engage with Shauna.

Bring a journal and an open heart and mind as we create a beautiful connective time together that uplifts the many ways that both our joy and grief and the presences and absences in our life can be grounds for deep intimacy and fulfillment.

You can read more about the event here.

Purchase Your Ticket

I am beyond delighted to host Shauna in this space after attending many of her workshops, consultations, and gatherings over the years. It has been an honor to join her in a collegial space of childlessness, and our conversations working up to this event have been transformative and joy-inducing. Shauna is an eloquent speaker, truly gifted in channeling wisdom in a down-to-earth way. Her humor and compassion create a warm atmosphere for those in her presence. I trust that you will be moved, stirred, and inspired by Shauna, just as I have.

Event Details:

• We will meet on Zoom — you’ll receive the link after you register.

• A recording will be available for 1 week after the event for anyone who can’t attend live.

Tickets are $25 for paid members of Making Meaning Without Kids, and $35 to the general public.

Want to join Making Meaning Without Kids to get access to this event at a discount, along with upcoming events at no cost/a discounted rate? Join the Paid Tier here.

Purchase Your Ticket

Meaning Making for Childfree and Childless Women in Mid-Life and Beyond: An 8-Week Support Group

Held Weekly on Wednesdays from 5:00 - 6:30 pm PST
Sessions Held on Zoom | Max 10 people

I currently have a few openings, so contact me for a screening!

Learn More About This Support Group

Childfree people approaching or arriving upon middle age may begin to internalize negative messages around the taboo of not becoming mothers or following a non-traditional life script, resulting in feeling depressed, anxious, or like they are a failure or let their loved ones or ancestors down. Self-doubt and regret are prone to creep in at this time, even if an individual has felt confident about their choices throughout their life.

Loneliness and isolation are common, and feelings of loss and grief often emerge. Questions on the legacy one wishes to leave—or even how to leave a legacy without signing on to a traditional script—can cause feelings of being lost, un-anchored, or without value or purpose. This time of life brings up the importance of having a community of support that can provide us with validation and a space to be seen and heard in our unique stories. Having a community of support helps us see ourselves more clearly, encouraging us to embrace our present with more vigor and face our futures with more hope and purpose.

​Join us in a welcoming space where you are invited to sharpen your sense of identity in order to reclaim your voice and inspiration that can lead to reconnecting with a happy and meaningful life.

To schedule your initial screening or to get more information on the group, please contact me at jacquelyntoth.com/contact.

Upcoming April Events:

Sensory Awareness for Childfree and Childless Individuals with Ayana Amoa: Saturday, April 11, 10-11:15 a.m. PST

$25.00 | General Public and Free Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids
$10.00 | Paid Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids

Get Notified When Tickets are Available

Our first Sensory Awareness event in January hosted by Ayana was a surprisingly powerful and unifying event for all who attended.

Ayana’s steady guidance to make contact with our bellies turned out to be a potent experience that attendees were able to reflect upon during the sharing period.

Here is a comment from one of the attendees:

“From beginning to end, the experience was calming and heart opening, giving me a new sense of listening from within.... Ayana is a gentle and gifted guide into the realm of the senses.”

For me, this session inspired me to write my latest Substack post titled My Big, Fat, Childfree Belly, which includes not only a more detailed description of this event but also a consideration of how childless and childfree individuals can reclaim our childfree bellies from the grips of patriarchal, pronatalist culture.

This time, Ayana will be picking up the thread of intimacy from Shauna’s March event, guiding attendees to explore what may be encountered in the contemplation of self-intimacy.

Ayana is a certified Somatic Awareness facilitator. Here is how she explains this practice:
“Sensory awareness is a somatic practice that gives space for one to discover, be with, and hold oneself for all that you innately come with. This practice embodies and supports the flow of what is already here and offers an opportunity to connect deeper into what is already within. To be aware of who you are. All of you.

This practice is an invitation from you to you in order to explore the moments of each moment anew, fresh, and alive. It is an exploration of the body, breath, and environment.”

Creative Rest Vigil with Jackie Toth, Childfree LMFT: April Date TBD

Exclusively for paid subscribers to Making Meaning Without Kids! Creative rest vigils are intended to be a place where you can make a soft landing, with no expectations to “produce,” “process,” or “work through” anything.

You are welcome to simply “be” and share a quiet, undemanding space with other childless and childfree folks.

An evocative playlist will be offered in the background as you choose your mode of rest: draw, paint, meditate, grieve, dance, nap, daydream, create or tend to your altar. There is no wrong way to creatively rest together!

You can click here to read more about past vigils.

Always free to paid subscribers.

I hope to see you at one of these upcoming events—and in the meantime, stay warm and dry out there! Remember: Spring is right around the corner!

XO,

Thursday, March 19 from 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST

$35.00 | General Public and Free Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids
$25.00 | Paid Subscribers to Jackie’s Substack, Making Meaning Without Kids

If you wish to attend but are experiencing financial hardship, please contact Jackie. No one will be turned away due to financial limitations.

Purchase Your Ticket

What does it mean to live an intimacy-rich life as a childless or childfree individual in these current times?

Event Details

What does it mean to live an intimacy-rich life as a childless or childfree individual in these current times? Join me in conversation with educator, grief activist, ritualist, and edge-dweller Shauna Janz where we will delve into this question and dream together our longings for intimacy.

We will ponder: What does intimacy mean to me? Where do I yearn for more depth and closeness? Where are the places of absence in my life that are guiding me into more intimacy?

Shauna and I will share in conversation about how she has come to understand and cultivate many kinds of intimacies in her life, guided by what it means “to see clearly what is” and to allow “the absences in her life” point the way towards deeper self-intimacy and fulfillment.

We will then open into collective sharing and experiential reflections to explore the nuances of intimacy from our lived experiences of not having children. What unique challenges do childless and childfree people face in regard to enriching a sense of intimacy in their lives? How can grief be a portal into a more deeply felt intimacy? How do our identities as nonparents serve as a radical ground to re-vision what intimacy means, beyond traditional family and relational structures?

Bring a journal and an open heart and mind as we create a beautiful connective time together that uplifts the many ways that both our joy and grief and the presences and absences in our life can be grounds for deep intimacy and fulfillment.

Purchase Your Ticket

Open to the general public; special discount for paid members of Making Meaning Without Kids

*Recording of this event will be available to ticket holders for one week, through Thursday March 26th.

About Our Special Guest

Shauna Janz, MA, is a teacher, mentor and ritualist in service to personal and cultural change through the heart of grief. Her online school, Sacred Grief offers programs on the reclamation of life-ways for grieving, ritual healing, ancestral connection, and animate living through decolonial, trauma-informed, and dignity-centered approaches.

Shauna is a cis-gendered queer woman of Northern European descent who lives with an invisible disability, is a survivor of complex trauma, and who has chosen to be childless, to live solo, and to nurture chosen family and relationship structures outside of heternormative monogamous ideals. Many of the identities she holds live at the edge of normative culture, and her life has been in invitation to unlearn the conditioning that does not serve her, and to find the joy, medicine, and belonging that reside in the edge places. One of her guiding values is to live an intimacy-rich life in all ways possible - it is a life-long discovery! Outside of her vocation you can find her motorbiking, gardening, communing with forest, river and mountain kin, Westcoast swing dancing, in contemplative practice and study, and being an auntie and friend.

About the Host, Jackie Toth, founder of Making Meaning Without Kids

Jackie is a licensed psychotherapist in California who offers deep, transformative therapy through a radical grief lens. She offers a special focus on childless-not-by-choice and childfree individuals through individual and group therapy. Her substack, Making Meaning Without Kids, is a community designed to support, unite, and inspire childless and childfree folks through thought-provoking writings and events.

Creating an Intimacy-Rich Life:

Exploring Childfree Connection, Community, and Identity Beyond Cultural Norms

Thursday, March 19, 2026 | 12 p.m. - 1:30 p.m. PST

$25 for paid subscribers of Making Meaning Without Kids
$35 for the public; sliding scale available for those in need

*Recording of this event will be available to ticket holders for one week, through Thursday March 26th.

Purchase Your Ticket

From this point forward, my pooch became a frequent object of scorn and speculation, even when she was no bigger than a small pup. She worked a lot of people into a lather, transforming them into wanna-be health czars or self-esteem gurus who proselytized about how whittling down my pesky pooch would enhance my physical and emotional wellbeing. In high school, my beloved grandmother even suggested I start wearing a girdle. “I can take you to May Company and buy you the brand I use,” she offered with earnest.

I grew up in the era of Janet Jackson’s abs. This did not bode well for someone like me whose pooch hovered around the spherical end of the continuum at the peak of my 20s, when I played tons of tournament-level racquetball (hey, it was the 90s!) and worked out several times a week with a personal trainer. Eventually, I pushed aside any notion of transforming my pooch from soft to firm and instead directed my aspirations toward other examples of female strength celebrated by the media at the time, like Linda Hamilton’s biceps in the Terminator II movie and Madonna’s chiseled thighs.

Although I gracefully turned down my grandmother’s girdle offer that day in high school, I can’t deny that I spent the next couple of decades elevating the stock value of industries peddling “control top” accoutrements. I get short of breath just thinking about the many years I spent squirming into undergarments that were meant to flatten or “minimize” my pooch, even if it meant waistbands that violently dug into my skin, or fabric that was terribly itchy and unbreathable to the point it constricted my movement and simply eradicated any notion of feeling joyful in my body.

Despite all the “tummy-trimming” tricks of the trade, I was often asked if I was pregnant, which I found horribly intrusive. It was also incredibly shaming. That the answer was “no” took away any justification for me to have a protruding belly.

Now, at the verge of menopause, my pooch has continued to stubbornly insist on taking up a little more horizontal terrain than is socially sanctioned. The proselytizing continues, but the questions on whether I am pregnant have thankfully ceased. This offers little relief.

Just like all of us, I swim daily through a swarm of billboards that loudly renounce perimenopausal belly fat as something to be feared and disdained, triggering manic conversations about diet plans, creams, supplements, shots, chia seed water, exercise “regimes,” surgery, vagus nerve meditations, and affirmations that promise to cut, vacuum, or melt off whatever excess middle-aged women have shamefully allowed themselves to gather at their midsection.

Worse, it seems that most of my fellow sisters I encounter these days—at the gym, waiting in line at the brunch spot, chatting in between work meetings, even painting across from me at a community table during a watercolor class—become talking sandwich boards that publicly promote the crusade to eradicate their “middle-age spread,” lamenting its existence, sputtering in desperation over its petulance and the resulting necessity to commit to a lifelong “battle of the bulge.”

Sucks for me, because now that I am on the verge of menopause, no matter how much I spin my butt off, lift weights, or avoid carbs, my pooch, it seems, is here to stay.

This essay is meant to be a proclamation of Childfree Belly Sovereignty, which celebrates all forms of pooches: large and small; flat and round; soft and firm; fat and thin. I do not intend to imply that women should not prioritize their health, especially in middle age and beyond. I am all for honoring each woman’s path toward wellbeing, whatever that may mean to them.

I am not here to hand out prescriptions. Instead, I wish to intentionally side-step these all-too-familiar narratives in this essay to liberate and center the sacred voices who reside deep within all female and AFAB bellies, and who have too long been corseted, constricted, minimized, flattened, colonized, or shamed out of their right to be heard, seen, and revered.

This call to host such an alternative conversation on pooches has landed in my lap rather unexpectedly. I won’t lie: It has proven challenging. My imposter syndrome is flaring up like a four-alarm fire. Why in the world would a childfree woman like me be considered to host such a conversation?

(Mainly) choosing to not have kids, I never considered my belly as something important to think about. My own internalized shame about her roundness combined with the decision to forego pregnancy made it easy to render her nonexistent. A lost cause. A heap of blubbery rubble to toss aside from my consciousness.

This makes me sad.

I am sad about being terrified of my pooch, panicked that if I don’t make her disappear ASAP, I could drop dead at any second. I am sad for rendering her a mere death sentence. I am sad for a lifetime of feeling embarrassed by her, of binding her with my shame, sad for all the millions of times I have tugged at my shirts to hide her from view to the point where all those shirts end up having microtears in their midsection. I am sad that I have apologized—to myself and others—for her taking up “too much” space. I am sad that I have not spent enough time telling her how much I love her. I am sad about my lengthy crusade of trying to eradicate her existence.

I take this grief as a sign of an awakening.

Grief therapist Francis Weller said that when we awaken to our grief, we refuse to be small. We reclaim our right to be big. To take up space. To be seen. Well, perhaps my big, fat, childfree pooch deserves a long overdue reframe. In her persistence to not be small and to take up more space than is socially sanctioned, has she all along been beckoning me toward a revolution?

Here Poochie, Poochie, Poochie!

I didn’t even realize how marginalized my belly was until…unexpectedly, remarkably, perfectly, she “popped up” during the inaugural event for this Substack community a few weeks ago. I’ve talked about the slippery fish of the unconscious before: wouldn’t you know it, one of those buggers flopped literally right into my lap during my guest host Ayana Amoa’s January Sensory Awareness event.

As we sat there eye-to-fisheye during a quiet moment of personal reflection offered by Ayana to all of us in attendance, it suddenly occurred to me that I have lived my entire life within a culture that asserts the only way a woman is “allowed” to have a big pooch is if she is pregnant.

The only “legitimate” reason for a woman to have a protruding belly is if she is going to have a baby.

Any other reasons for having a big pooch are illegitimate and forbidden.

Suddenly, in real time, I realize the word I keep interchanging with belly as I write:

Pooch.

I do not believe this is an accident. I believe that slippery fish uttered this word into the little air bubble that emitted with a soft “pop” from her mouth as she settled into my lap.

Why pooch? I mean, there are plenty of other terms to choose from. Potbelly, bubble belly, paunch (sounds like the name for the color of puke), spare tire, breadbasket (so yeasty), pudge, beer gut (also yeasty), apron belly (so “trad grandma”), FUPA (i.e., fat upper pubic area; ew!), muffin top (always hated this one), pouch (nope, not carrying an ornery kangaroo in there), bay window (WTF?), love handles (GTF-off-of-me), tummy fat. These are quite polite compared to what I glanced at in the dark corners of the internet.

In contrast to these silly, derogatory terms, we know the common ways a pregnant belly is referred to: Baby bump. Blossom. Bun in the oven (ugh, still yeasty). In a family way. Carrying. Expecting.

I am not a mother, so I wouldn’t know for sure, but I bet a pregnant woman has never been accused of having a beer gut. Just a guess.

This has me thinking about something, and this something feels like it has the potential to be so potent that it could maybe even travel backward in time to destroy some of the internalized bedrock that formed long ago around the legacy of shame and hatred toward nonpregnant bellies. I think of Superman in the first original movie, when he discovers his beloved Lois Lane crushed to death in an earthquake after failing to save her in time, his rage and grief so huge that it shoots him off into the cosmos and gives him the superhuman momentum to reverse the Earth’s rotation in order to turn back time, rescue his lost love, and commit himself to protecting her for all eternity.

What if I could do this for my belly: my big, fat, childfree belly? What if we could all throw a lightning bolt into that hard foundation of belly shame, fortified by thousands of years of female oppression and patriarchal pronatalism, an icing of white supremacy as hard as marble glazing the top; reach through the rubble to obtain the golden orb of female belly sovereignty; and then swoop back into the present with that orb lighting the way so we can scoop up our childfree and childless pooches from the clutches of patriarchal perpetrators and hold her tightly, tenderly, lovingly, never ever letting her out of our embrace again?

Perhaps choosing to use the word pooch is an intuition, already flirting with a personal revolution through simple word play. For a reason I trust has to do with ancestral wisdom eons beyond my own, I have apparently decided to claim this word to reclaim my nonpregnant, childfree pooch from the crushing crevasse of racist, misogynoir/misogynist, heteronormative systems.

Pooch.

Something not shaming. Something not oppresive. For goodness sake, something not YEASTY. Something not given to me by another for another’s use, like “pouch” or “love handles.” This is MY Pooch.

I like the sound of it! I like how it conjures the adorable image of a golden lab with big brown eyes and the kind of face that makes you just want to moosh and squoosh and nuzzle with her and then spoon and take a long nap together. My pooch. My big, fat, adorable, cozy, cuddly, beautiful, childfree pooch.

Hello there. It’s been a long, long while. Let’s cuddle.

Sensory Awareness and The Macy’s Lady

All it took was a simple prompt:

Place your hand on your belly, under your shirt, flesh-to-flesh.

Then, an invitation:

Let your hand move around your belly, noticing the curves and contours and softness. Spend some time here, just you and your belly. Welcome whatever comes.

I was not expecting so much to come up for me from this prompt, offered with gentle and sturdy wisdom from my guest host, Ayana Amoa, during her Sensory Awareness event for Making Meaning Without Kids.

Do I have to? This was my first thought before a sense of responsibility came over me. Well, this is the inaugural event of my Substack community, so I guess I should be a good sport.

My palm was already sweaty as I slipped my hand under the stretchy waist band of my yoga pants and rested it on my belly. My skin was cold, like the cheek of an old woman accustomed all of her life to turning into the icy wind to reject a kiss. So neglected….so numb. I wanted to yank my hand away, but coaxed by Ayana’s trusting voice, I lingered.

Awkwardly, I moved my hand around my belly. Too big. Too soft. Too roomy. Too much. Swells of grief rose within me, quickly subdued by a shiver of silliness.

This is nuts! I said to myself as my hand found itself cupping my lower belly. Who cradles their belly like this?

The Macy’s lady, that’s who.

A few days after the Sensory Awareness event, I was surfing through Macy’s website looking for a top. My eye rested on a particular item I considered purchasing, until in shock and horror, I realized it was a maternity shirt. [Why does it feel like a cardinal sin to mistaken maternity clothing for “normal clothing?] The thing that tipped me off was the image itself: a tiny blonde woman with delicate arms, donning this black tunic-like shirt. Sounds innocuous, right? Well, it was her gesture that exposed the maternal purpose of the shirt: while one of her arms dangled at her side, the other curved toward her belly, which she cupped gently with one hand, as if she was holding a fragile baby bird.

This gesture we all recognize, not only from websites and catalogs advertising their maternity clothing lines, but also from interactions with the general public. It is not uncommon to see at family gatherings, the café, on an airplane, at the park, or other public spaces of leisure a woman lovingly caressing her rotund belly. Without even needing to ask, we know the deal: She is pregnant.

Because why else would a woman lovingly caress her rotund belly in public—or even in private?

What would it be like if a nonpregnant, childfree woman gently caressed her belly in public? Or cupped her hand to cradle the bottom of her pendulous pooch? Or simply rested her hand on her protruding stomach while lovingly staring down at it?

The answer is obvious.

It would look ridiculous!

Can we even imagine in our Western world a woman sitting with a friend at a café lovingly caressing her nonpregnant, childfree belly while her friend coos sweet things to it?

“Oooh, look at your doughy self! It makes me just want to pinch you!”

“Awww! Look at how it wobbles like a souffle. Soooo adorable!”

“I just love seeing how attached you are to your pooch. It really inspires me.”

“[Sigh…] How I wish I could have a big ole belly of my own to love.”

Back to reality, here is how I bet a scene like this would unfold:

Woman is sitting with female friend at a café. She reclines in her chair, fully exposing her rotund belly. She gently caresses it.

A stranger notices and approaches.

“How far along are you?” they ask.

“Oh!” the woman exclaims as her friend giggles. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Uh…,” stranger sputters, a bewildered look on their face. “I apologize. It’s just that I saw you sitting there rubbing your belly—and you seemed to be glowing, so I guess I just assumed…”

“It’s OK,” the woman says, eager to get back to her private conversation with her friend.

With a slight nod of comprehension, stranger reaches into their bag. “I have some Gas-X if you need some?”

A few days ago, something caught my eye as I walked to dinner. Taped to the window of a salon was a flyer with two black and white photos of the same woman, who was donning a black sports bra and yoga shorts. She was headless and legless: only her torso was centered in the frame of these two images placed side by side. A closer look revealed that these photos were meant to depict before-and-after snapshots of liposuction surgery.

In the photo on the left, the headless woman’s pooch was barely noticeable, accented only by the slight shadow cast by the photo itself, which made her tummy look like a dimpled smile. The “poochy” parts of her belly looked like apple cheeks. Instinctively, I felt the corners of my mouth curl upward as I smiled back at her grinning, adorable pooch.

My eye then traveled to the photo on the right. Those apple cheeks were gone; her belly was no longer smiling. It seemed to fall silent. I felt my own gut lurch with a spasm of nausea, which then gave way to a gastric storm of burning rage. A well of sorrow pooled in my throat.

Why are women’s bellies so hated? What makes our bellies so feared? And how the hell did we end up buying into all this crap for so long?

Who’s Afraid of My Big, Fat Pooch?

When Ayana and I were planning the Sensory Awareness event, I was not sure about her idea to briefly focus on the belly in a gathering of childless-not-by-choice and childfree women. Something felt…dangerous about this. What if someone is triggered irreversibly in some terrible way? Or is carried away by uncontrollable grief? Or melts in shame right in front of our eyes? Or revolts over calling attention to an area of the body so heavily associated with motherhood?

Now I am wondering: why did childless and childfree bellies feel so dangerous to talk about and pay attention to?

It turns out that all of those things I was afraid of arising indeed surfaced for not only me but for the other participants too. During our share after the exercise, grief, shame, and unexpected comfort were some of the experiences that others spoke to. Associations with our fat-phobic culture and admonitions of women being “too much” in a society that hates women were also enlivened within the group.

But no one melted. No one was carried away by a rogue river. No one raged against our nerve to discuss childfree and childless bellies. Instead, our shares served as kindling to the fire Ayana lit for us. We bellied up to that fire and sat together for a short but potent time, keeping warm.

CC 4.0 by Bjørn Christian Tørrissen

Childless or childfree, pregnant or nonpregnant, our bellies have an ancient history of serving as an alembic—a sacred vessel.

Of course, they have not always been treated this way. Present day included.

Both pregnant and nonpregnant women’s bellies—or bellies that ever held a uterus—are the most colonized, sanctioned, and oppressed parts of the body in the history of human bodies since patriarchy. This is not ancient news. It is recent history, alive and well up to the present day. Whether drawing from the origins of slavery in the U.S.—which colonized Black female bellies with the aim of exploiting their reproductive faculties, a lineage that snakes into the present with the continuation of reproductive injustice focused primarily on Black women—or facing the sobering reality of living in a country that holds legal authority over all bellies with uteruses and ovaries, or swimming through the flood of messaging on social media, all forms of advertising, and even conversations over Sunday dinner that vilify big bellies on women (and no doubt contribute to the prevalence of eating disorders), it is not hard to understand why women have such a troubled relationship with their bellies.

But I do believe, as a childfree person who has never been pregnant, that bellies, specifically those belonging to nonpregnant women, continue to be one of the most hated, most feared, most shamed areas of the body in the history of the human body since patriarchy.

Why?

Childfree bellies, uncentering pregnancy as their only recognized and valued function, remind all women that there is more purpose to reclaim within and among ourselves.

Childfree bellies, unencumbered by the demands of hosting pregnancy and giving birth, become essential tools to the resistance.

Childless-not-by choice bellies who alchemize their grief over nonparenthood become essential tools to the resistance.

Our bodies are literally and figuratively built to tolerate the heat of holy rage and sacred grief bubbling away in the cauldron of our bellies. Withstanding eons of misogyny, misogynoir, white supremacy, and patriarchy, our bellies alchemize ancestral lineages of oppression into reclamation.

Because our bellies persist despite not ever bearing children, they get to focus on keeping our cauldrons simmering. And when we come to a steady boil, our nonpregnant bellies threaten the system.

The work of racial justice and body activist Sonya Renee Taylor comes to mind here. In her book The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love, she said, “When we decide that people’s bodies are wrong because we don’t understand them, we are trying to avoid the discomfort of divesting from an entire body-shame system.”

There is a lot to gain from the system’s attempts to oppress female-identified bodies, especially the nonpregnant ones. Fatphobia, with its roots in white supremacy, is so far an effective way of grooming women to dis-member ourselves (sometimes literally). To sequester ourselves through body shame. To police each other so that we stay separate, frozen numb by the loss of warmth that comes from gathering at the community hearth, where all our voices are welcome.

Because when we start talking out loud to each other about all of this, we begin to re-member ourselves.

Once we begin to re-member together, we gain the momentum to divest from hateful systems, which include patriarchal pronatalism.

Once we gain the momentum, we build tolerance around the discomfort of taking apart those systems and reconstructing them according to the blueprints of liberation.

What would it be like to re-member ourselves and divest from this entire system of hate that is at the root of all the atrocious injustices we are weathering today?

Can you imagine the revolution that would begin if we all re-membered?

Perhaps you are already dreaming it.

I am…. And one thing is for sure: My big, fat, childfree belly will be the first to arrive at this revolution—and so will yours—in all of her ungirdled power. Like a beacon, she will guide the rest of me into the center of our collective cauldron, where hopefully I will meet all of you who followed your own guts. Then we can let our pooches run wild together.

Photo by Bharathi Kannan on Unsplash

Meaning-Making for Childless and Childfree Women in Mid-Life and Beyond: An 8-week Support Group

Weekly on Wednesdays 5:00 – 6:30 p.m.
Starting in February 2026
Sessions held on Zoom | Max 10 persons

Who is this for?

Childfree (by choice) and Childless (not-by- choice) Women and AFAB individuals who are in their second half of life, nearing or having reached the end of their fertility cycle.

Do you crave a community where you can be understood around your life choices and circumstances?

Do you desire to reconnect with a deeper meaning and purpose as you approach mid- life and beyond?

Do you experience increased pressure and self-criticism to have it all by now, or to feel “settled” and satisfied?

Are you curious about the legacy you wish to create as a childfree/childless woman?

Childfree and childless women who are in mid- life and beyond face horizons and milestones that are different from women with children.

Many experience loneliness, unexpected grief, or find themselves in deep states of reverie with- out spaces to process these feelings and reflections.

This 8-week online support group is a space to delve into your unique story where you are in community with others who are on a similar path. You’ll be able to deepen connections to yourself and others by exploring ageing without kids/as a nonparent. Together we can be witnessed and companioned by each other to reinvigorate our worth, purpose, and joy.

A Message from Jackie:

Our first cycle of the 8-week support group for Childless and Childfree Women in Mid-Life and Beyond took place in the Fall of 2025.

It was nothing short of magical, if you ask me. I am still profoundly moved when I think about witnessing the authenticity, compassion, and curiosity each member brought to the group.

I saw deep connection happen among members, even across vast differences around what brought each woman to a life without children. It was inspiring to see how members continued to open up and expand their awareness about their life, even in ways that surprised them.

We covered the gamut too: There were the “biggies,” like legacy, grief, navigating relationships with friends and families who are parents, and aging without kids.

But there were also a lot of “nooks and crannies” discovered as our discussions deepened: The complexities of childfree grief; meditations on female identity, especially around qualities like “nurturing,” “caregiving,” and “mothering” as nonparents; the truth about what it is like to live in a pronatalist world as we age; resilience around finding meaning and purpose in a world that is often patronizing or judgmental to women without kids.

It is fair to say there was not a dull moment to be had, and those 8 weeks seemed to breeze by! I find myself bursting at the seams to see what this next cycle will manifest together. I continue to be honored to host a space for robust self-exploration and abundant support from others.

About Me:

I am a licensed psychotherapist in private practice and a Gen-X childfree woman. I work with individuals looking to reconnect to or reclaim their core selves. I am a published writer and professor in the thesis department at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Carpinteria, CA.

Message Me to learn more about the group and how to register for a screening.

Feel free to download the flyer below!

2026 Making Meaning Support Group Flyer

654KB ∙ PDF file

Download

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Hi friends,

You’re getting this email because you’re a paid member of Making Meaning Without Kids.

If you’d like to attend, please pre-register here. You’ll receive the Zoom link in that way, and also…

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You’re getting this email because you’re a paid member of Making Meaning Without Kids.

We have our next event tomorrow: A Creative Rest Vigil! I’ve put more details below for you to look o…

Read more

Join The Paid Community

🔑 Here’s what you unlock as a paid member:

When you join, you’ll get member-only access to:

• 1x/month live community zoom events, hosted by me, designed to support your nervous system and hold space to rest

• 1x/month special guest-hosted community zoom events, where we’ll get to experience different kinds of presence and engage in a range of meaningful discussion

• A community of like-minded individuals who are championing each other in exploring their childless/childfree identity

• Special discounts to upcoming in-depth programs.

Join The Paid Community

Am I doomed to be stuck in my grief if I wanted children but never was able to have them?

A few weeks ago, I wrote this post:

While those who are childfree by choice may worry that their grief isn’t valid, those who are childless - not by choice - may fear that the grief will never end.

Childless individuals may feel pitied by those around them and then dismissed when they exceed the “expiration date” of their grief.

Childless people often feel rushed by others to “move on” and “stop feeling sorry” for themselves.

Just like childfree individuals, their grief is also unseen and unheard. Those facing infertility may feel “disenfranchised grief,” a term that describes the unrecognized and unsupported grief resulting from societal expectations about womanhood (Wilkinson and Rouse, 2023).

Grief therapist Francis Weller (2013) clarified that we get stuck in our grief when we are unable to be joined in it.

Our ability to grieve is what makes us exquisitely human. But in a culture that prefers to rush us to some “closure” or “resolution,” often we are made to feel ashamed of our grief.

We stop trusting its natural rhythms and instead get swallowed by its surges.

We need to move through our grief rather than around it.

This is often perceived as counterintuitive by our dominant culture.

The irony with grief is that in order to soothe it, we must move THROUGH it rather than AROUND it.

This is easier said than done, but it’s a powerful way to tend to the emotions within us.

Sometimes we must walk right into the eye of our grief storm in order to calm the hurricane-grade winds.

We need a sense of community to help us navigate those choppy waters of grief.

This can be harder to find for childless individuals who often feel isolated: neither in the world of having children nor in the world of not wanting to have children.

For us, cultivating community is especially important—it can be difficult for us to fit in, to find support, and to find resources. Loneliness and isolation are common. We are often misunderstood, stigmatized, or looked down upon.

One of the most effective ways we can soothe our grief is through finding ourselves in a community that not only gives us permission to grieve but also can “meet us” in it. This is why I started my support groups for childless and childfree women.

But the community one seeks doesn’t have to be in-person or even live. It can be created simply by writing, texting, or sharing something with others—like music or art—that brings us ease, comfort, and even joy.

It’s good to dose your grief, too.

In the grief world, we use the term “dosing our grief” to describe the importance of taking breathers from our sorrow.

This can be as simple as splashing water on our face, peeling and eating an orange, or engaging in a creative process that involves our thinking brain as well as our bodies.

Examples include painting, drawing, or singing.

Practice self-compassion as an act of resistance.

It is so important for childless women and individuals to insist on loving ourselves.

When we find self-compassion for…

• what led us to a life without kids

• the lost or strained friendships with those who became parents

• the workplace biases that expect us to forfeit our vacations or boundaries because we don’t have kids

• the claims from people in power that we are uninvested in our communities, or unproductive members of society

• the loneliness and stigma that exiles us to the margins

…we also give ourselves permission to exist just as we are, tenderness and all.

Just existing is an act of resistance. To exist openly and with meaning can be a portal for liberation. I mean this as liberation for all – both parents and nonparents across the entire continuum. Liberation inclusive of all genders, races, classes, abilities, and ethnicities.

When we allow ourselves to grieve, we insist that our experiences matter. We grieve what we love—what is important to us. Sharing our grief is a loving act. When we love ourselves, we insist that we matter. We insist on being seen as complex, rich human beings–-just as important to our communities as parents.

I’ll leave you with this powerful quote by Jody Day on the ache of childlessness.

, psychotherapist and founder of Gateway Women, a worldwide collective for women who are childless due to infertility or circumstance, said this about her own grief journey:

“The children I was never able to have, and which I have grieved deeply, live on in my heart, and age with me as I do. . . . Even though my years of mourning have transformed my inner world to the point where I sense that I might be as at peace with my childlessness as if I had chosen it, when the wind howls in a certain direction, the scar of my childlessness can ache. And that’s okay. It means they are still with me.” (You can read her full essay here.)

Finding Community

Are you interested in joining a community of childless and childfree women in mid-life and beyond? If so, reach out to me to learn more about my upcoming 8-week support group: Meaning-Making for Childless and Childfree Women in Mid-Life and Beyond

If you’ve been grappling with grief — around the state of the country/world, around childlessness, as a result of a loss— I invite you all to lay your weary and grief-heavy hearts down on the community well as you join me for the upcoming Creative Rest Vigil. This event is available for paid Substack members.

Join The Paid Community

🔑 Here’s what you unlock as a paid member:

When you join, you’ll get member-only access to:

• 1x/month live community zoom events, hosted by me, designed to support your nervous system and hold space to rest

• 1x/month special guest-hosted community zoom events, where we’ll get to experience different kinds of presence and engage in a range of meaningful discussion

• A community of like-minded individuals who are championing each other in exploring their childless/childfree identity

• Special discounts to upcoming in-depth programs.

Join The Paid Community

You’re getting this email because you’re a paid member of Making Meaning Without Kids.

We have our next event coming right up: A Creative Rest Vigil! I’ve put more details below for you to…

Read more

Upgrade Here

January is for Rest

And so is February, March, April, and....well, you get the drift!

But seriously, according to ancient pagan culture, January IS for rest.

Did you know that according to the pagan calendar, January 1 is referred to as Hag’s Day? Isn’t that delicious?!?! (This reminds me of the savory treat that is Sharon Blackie’s Hagitude.)

Did you know that this first day of the year is dedicated to the Goddess as a representation of She Who Transforms? I have chills!!

Well, this makes sense if we think about it--as well as the many other pagan holidays in January that celebrate the Goddess as an entity who assists with crossing thresholds, weathering the dark, and leading us toward the light--because, after all, we ARE still in Winter.

And if you think about it, transformation, approaching thresholds, and being in the dark evokes quite a Wintery vibe.

So why do so many of us get swept into the socially sanctioned fervor of New Year’s Resolutions and fresh starts?

During this first week of January, it is hard to resist the knee-jerk reaction to jump back into productivity mode after crossing into the new Gregorian year, much like sprinting out of the gate after the crack of a firework at midnight on January 1st as if we are rushing for some finish line that is actually nowhere to be found in the near horizon. (Really, where is it?!?)

Westerners have been wired to follow the Gregorian calendar as well as the patriarchal capitalist ordinances it centers like production, relentlessly hard work, harsh self-discipline, making immediate and permanent improvements, and pathologizing prolonged rest.

Here is the problem: Our energy cycles are inextricably tied to nature’s cycles. Winter calls us to slow, reflect, grieve, rest/hibernate, slow-cook the broth and ferment the yeast so our shelves will be stocked for the year ahead.

I don’t know about you, but this January has been like walking through molasses. And for the first time in a long while, I gave myself permission to keep myself at a slow roll. My body and mind have been humming along ever since I decided to let go of pushing myself into overdrive or criticizing myself into overworking and overthinking toward some obtuse “goal” of self-improvement.

There has also been so much more to grieve as we enter into this new year. The dark has been prominent. We need to remind ourselves: It is necessary to slow into the grief rather than run from it. Find the lanterns, light the candles.

That is all. That is all.

Creative Rest Vigil for Paid Members with Jackie Toth, Childfree LMFT

When: Saturday, 1/31 from 10:30-12 PST
Where: Zoom
How to Register: Upgrade to get access. Already a paid member? You’ll get a separate email soon with a registration link.

Inspired by the work of American poet, theologian, and rest activist Tricia Hersey, and grief activists Holly Truhlar and Alexander Jodun, this vigil invites you into a quiet, intentional space for slowing down in community by dropping into a flow of creative rest.

Winter calls us to slow, reflect, grieve, rest/hibernate, slow-cook the broth and ferment the yeast so our shelves will be stocked for the year ahead.

🎉 There are no requirements to be productive: there will be no processing, no analyzing, no requests for emotional labor. All you are invited to do is rest in community.

Upgrade Here

What to expect:

The vigil will begin with a gentle welcome, followed by an offering of a cozy writing exercise to warm your creative bones. Then, you will be guided into a space of creative rest, where you are free to engage in whatever expression of creativity feels right to you.

Write, meditate, move, knit, draw, nap, cry, sing, daydream, paint, tend to your altar—whatever your heart and soul desires—while listening to some inspiring tunes with other childless and childfree folks.

🌿 Here’s what you’ll access as a paid member in addition to the Creative Rest Vigil:

• 1x/month live community zoom events, hosted by me — like this Creative Rest Vigil and other supportive events.

• 1x/month special guest-hosted community zoom events

• Can’t make a live session? There will be replays that members can watch in their own time.

• A community of like-minded individuals who are championing each other in exploring their childless/childfree identity.

• Special discounts to upcoming in-depth programs.

Upgrade & Get Access

I wanted to remind you of tomorrow’s FREE event: Sensory Awareness with our first guest host, Ayana Amoa.

If you’re in need of some support for your nervous system…

…are hoping to hold some space for yourself this weekend…

…or would like to explore your own aliveness in a community of other likeminded individuals…

I hope that this event is something that you can fit in to your Saturday.

Register Here

Learn More About Sensory Awareness with Ayana Amoa

Free For All Readers!

When: Tomorrow, January 17th, 10 am - 11 a.m. PST (Feel free to cozy up into the zoom waiting room a few minutes early since we will get right to it at 10!)
Where: Zoom (Register below to receive the zoom meeting link)
What to Bring: Other than carving out a quiet and comforting space for yourself, please bring an object from your childhood, or one that reminds you of your childhood.

Register Here

This is the official launch of my community-building project for Making Meaning Without Kids! We begin with a Sensory Awareness event hosted by the wonderful and gifted Ayana Amoa. Read more about Ayana below.

In honor of this first, this event is free to all subscribers! Click on the link above to register.

What is Sensory Awareness?

I asked Ayana to describe her experience of Sensory Awareness so that we could all get a deeper understanding of the benefits of this practice.

Here’s what she said in response:

Sensory awareness is a somatic practice that gives space for one to discover, be with, and hold oneself for all that you innately come with.

This practice embodies and supports the flow of what is already here and offers an opportunity to connect deeper into what is already within. To be aware of who you are. All of you.

This practice is an invitation from you to you in order to explore the moments of each moment anew, fresh, and alive.

It is an exploration of the body, breath, and environment.

My vision for this community is to celebrate the abundance of our experiences, the expansiveness of our identities around not having kids, and the endless potential for deepening connection with each other through Care-Full and inspiring workshops, talks, and events. I hope you join us on the 17th!

Register Here

Meet Ayana, Our Inaugural Guest:

My name is Ayana Amoa and I have been a practitioner of sensory awareness for about two years.

Sensory awareness has given me a richer experience of who I am, deepening my intimacy and appreciation for everything around me—from the gentle touch of the wind on my cheek to the subtle sound of a change falling to the ground. This practice has helped me see myself in all that exists and connect with the aliveness of breath that we each carry within us.

This journey is not only about sharing sensory awareness with others but also about continuing to learn and grow through the ever-evolving experience of living and responding fully to what the moment is asking of me.

Register Here

If you attend, please bring an item from childhood (or something that reminds you of your childhood).

Have any questions? Just click reply or comment, I’m happy to help.

I hope you all are settling into this new year in a way that honors your own personal rhythms and needs.

I have a few events for both the public and paid members of Making Meaning Without Kids that I’d love to share with you.

These events are designed to support your nervous system, hold space for yourself, and to explore your own aliveness in a community of other childless and childfree folks!

Inaugural Guest Event: Sensory Awareness with Ayana Amoa

Free For All Readers!

When: January 17th, 10 am - 11 a.m. PST (Feel free to cozy up into the zoom waiting room a few minutes early since we will get right to it at 10!)
Where: Zoom
What to Bring: Other than carving out a quiet and comforting space for yourself, please bring an object from your childhood, or one that reminds you of your childhood.

Register Here

I am so excited to announce the official launch of my community-building project for Making Meaning Without Kids! We begin with a Sensory Awareness event hosted by the wonderful and gifted Ayana Amoa. Read more about Ayana below.

In honor of this first, this event is free to all subscribers! Click on the link above to register.

You might be asking yourself — What is Sensory Awareness?

I asked Ayana to describe her experience of Sensory Awareness so that we could all get a deeper understanding of the benefits of this practice.

Here’s what she said in response:

Sensory awareness is a somatic practice that gives space for one to discover, be with, and hold oneself for all that you innately come with.

This practice embodies and supports the flow of what is already here and offers an opportunity to connect deeper into what is already within. To be aware of who you are. All of you.

This practice is an invitation from you to you in order to explore the moments of each moment anew, fresh, and alive.

It is an exploration of the body, breath, and environment.

I think that it’s especially supportive for childless and childless individuals to give themselves space to, as Ayana put it, "hold oneself for all that you innately come with.”

For me, this connects to something I wrote about in my last post that I think we as a community need to dismantle and unravel:

As childless and childfree people living in this culture, we are groomed to think of our circumstances through the lens of a scarcity myth.

My vision for this community is to celebrate the abundance of our experiences, the expansiveness of our identities around not having kids, and the endless potential for deepening connection with each other through Care-Full and inspiring workshops, talks, and events. I hope you join us!

Register Here

Meet Ayana, Our Inaugural Guest:

My name is Ayana Amoa and I have been a practitioner of sensory awareness for about two years.

Sensory awareness has given me a richer experience of who I am, deepening my intimacy and appreciation for everything around me—from the gentle touch of the wind on my cheek to the subtle sound of a change falling to the ground. This practice has helped me see myself in all that exists and connect with the aliveness of breath that we each carry within us.

This journey is not only about sharing sensory awareness with others but also about continuing to learn and grow through the ever-evolving experience of living and responding fully to what the moment is asking of me.

Register Here

If you attend, please bring an item from childhood (or something that reminds you of your childhood).

Creative Rest Vigil for Paid Members with Jackie Toth, Childfree LMFT

When: Saturday, 1/31 from 10:30-12 PST
Where: Zoom
How to Register: Upgrade to get access. Already a paid member? You’ll get a separate email soon with a registration link.

Inspired by the work of American poet, theologian, and rest activist Tricia Hersey, and grief activists Holly Truhlar and Alexander Jodun, this vigil invites you into a quiet, intentional space for slowing down in community by dropping into a flow of creative rest.

Winter calls us to slow, reflect, grieve, rest/hibernate, slow-cook the broth and ferment the yeast so our shelves will be stocked for the year ahead.

🎉 There are no requirements to be productive: there will be no processing, no analyzing, no requests for emotional labor. All you are invited to do is rest in community.

Upgrade Here

What to expect:

The vigil will begin with a gentle welcome, followed by an offering of a cozy writing exercise to warm your creative bones. Then, you will be guided into a space of creative rest, where you are free to engage in whatever expression of creativity feels right to you.

Write, meditate, move, knit, draw, nap, cry, sing, daydream, paint, tend to your altar—whatever your heart and soul desires—while listening to some inspiring tunes with other childless and childfree folks.

🌿 Here’s what you’ll access as a paid member in addition to the Creative Rest Vigil:

• 1x/month live community zoom events, hosted by me — like this Creative Rest Vigil and other supportive events.

• 1x/month special guest-hosted community zoom events

• Can’t make a live session? There will be replays that members can watch in their own time.

• A community of like-minded individuals who are championing each other in exploring their childless/childfree identity.

• Special discounts to upcoming in-depth programs.

Upgrade & Get Access

Announcing: Upcoming 8-week Support Group for Women in Mid-Life (& Beyond) Without Children

LEARN MORE HERE

I’m running a new cycle of this 8-week support group starting in February! This is for Childfree (by choice) and Childless (not-by- choice) Women and AFAB individuals who are in their second half of life, nearing or having reached the end of their fertility cycle.

Our first cycle of the 8-week support group for Childless and Childfree Women in Mid-Life and Beyond was nothing short of magical, if you ask me.

I am still profoundly moved when I think about witnessing the authenticity, compassion, and curiosity each member brought to the group. I saw deep connection happen among members, even across vast differences around what brought each woman to a life without children. It was inspiring to see how members continued to open up and expand their awareness about their life, even in ways that surprised them.

We covered the gamut too: There were the “biggies,” like legacy, grief, navigating relationships with friends and families who are parents, and aging without kids.

But there were also a lot of “nooks and crannies” discovered as our discussions deepened, like:

• the complexities of childfree grief

• meditations on female identity, especially around qualities like “nurturing,” “caregiving,” and “mothering” as non-parents

• the truth about what it is like to live in a pro-natalist world as we age

• resilience around finding meaning and purpose in a world that is often patronizing or judgmental to women without kids.

It is fair to say there was not a dull moment to be had, and those 8 weeks seemed to breeze by! I find myself bursting at the seams to see what this next cycle will manifest together. I continue to be honored to host a space for robust self-exploration and abundant support from others.

Our goal is to carve out a meaningful place in mid-life (and beyond) that fits the unique shape of your identity. We’ll explore what it looks like for you to create and enjoy a life of meaning, purpose, and belonging.

LEARN MORE HERE