perspective
Speaking to others without kids helped me find a future after IVF
The past few years have included many big changes, including stopping IVF. (Supplied: Juliet Lemon)
If I'm a woman who wants a child and can't have one, is being sad and lonely my only destiny?
That's the question I've mulled since my husband Charlie and I stopped IVF in April 2024, after five years of nightmares on fertility street.
On screen, any woman who couldn't fulfil their "sole" purpose of having a child appears to embody the vibe of Miss Havisham in Great Expectations. Frozen in mourning, unable to move past the moment her future didn't turn out as expected.
So I went looking for real stories and wondered if it was too personal to ask strangers about not having kids. Then I thought — is it? Every second person I meet asks if I have kids and when I say no, they say — ah, but soon?
Seeking out others without kids
Sashi and her husband Charlie have spent time travelling around Australia and overseas since stopping IVF. (Supplied: Juliet Lemon)
I chatted to other people who didn't have kids. Some by choice, others by circumstance.
Those who never wanted kids have money and time to spend at will. Those who wanted kids but couldn't have them liken it to grieving the loss of a loved one.
You think you'll be sad forever and one day you laugh. Another day you laugh, quicker and for longer.
One day, you catch yourself feeling guilty because you've found many reasons to laugh when you're supposed to be sad forever. But life relentlessly moves along and there's always something to celebrate.
Suddenly my future opened up
The more people I spoke to, the less frightened I felt of my future.
After these conversations, I shifted focus to what I can do because I don't have a kid, instead of what I was missing out on.
I left my day job, became a full-time comedian and spent four months in Sri Lanka writing a book and exploring my country of birth with Charlie.
Meeting up in Queensland for a midweek holiday. (Supplied: Sashi Perera)
After we returned to Australia, he volunteered at the Garma Festival and I met him in Cairns on his way back from Arnhem land.
We found ourselves exploring the Daintree and the Great Barrier Reef midweek, where we didn't have to get leave approved by anyone other than ourselves.
We looked at each other and said, how is this bad?
On good days, it's an exceptional existence
Backstage preparing for a comedy show. (Supplied: Juliet Lemon)
This shift in focus has helped my feelings of limbo.
Surrogacy and adoption appear to be legal and medical quagmires, taxing in time, money and emotions with uncertain outcomes.
While working out our options, or lack thereof, I'm between two sets of friends. One is experiencing the adventure of motherhood, the other the adventure of being child-free.
I feel like an alien in the former and an imposter in the latter.
I'd love to know what community I end up in, but it's a question I have to live out.
I can only happily say I'm in the best mental and physical health in five long years.
I spend most days waking up with the love of my life and doing exactly what I wish. On good days, it's an exceptional existence. On hard days, I grieve. Most days fall in the ho-hum between.
But isn't that the norm for all humans, no matter what we get in our lives?
I keep focus on what I have and will keep writing my own narrative. So far it's hard to see how it ends up all sad or lonely.
Sashi Perera is a comedian, writer and author of Standstill, a memoir. She is based in Naarm/Melbourne and you can find her on Instagram and Substack.