One of my longtime blog penpals once observed that women without children after infertility are extraordinary — in large part because we have to examine ourselves, our relationships and our place in society in a way most ordinary people don't. Furthermore, we redefine and find our happiness at a point in life when most people, busy raising kids, are on auto-pilot.That puts us much further ahead and able to roll with the changes that life inevitably throws at us...

That's where I left off in my comment to Mali who wrote a passionate post titled, "She has no children. She has nothing," in response to two other equally heartfelt posts, one on Simply Inconceivable and one on Real Life & Thereafter. Each ignited conversations and comments.

And that's a good thing because the more we (and I mean that to be all inclusive) hash ...

Strong, honest and profound friendships can be hard to come by in a fast-paced world characterized by constant interruptions, overscheduling and lives shared in 140 characters or less. Sure, we can graze all day long but we often don't feel fully satisfied.

A hearty friendship feeds your soul. This weekend I feasted.

Friday night the lights twinkled on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco as I drove down the Embarcadero. Beneath the warm light of the Ferry Building slow-walking tourists mixed with locals racing by in running gear. Just beyond the entry of a bustling restaurant and into a noisy bar I saw a friendly face scanning the crowd. My soon-to-be dinner companion knew what I looked like, but I was operating at a disadvantage. While I knew some of her deepest thoughts I couldn't exactly hold up "B's" blog post and say, "is this you?" Her wave in my direction clinched it.

What followed was a 4.5 hour meal that moved effortlessly from one story to another revealing a kaleidoscope of overlapping experiences and emotions.To anyone nearby we appeared to be longtime friends animatedly catching up over edame, wine and fusion cuisine. Laughter tumbled easily.In truth we had ...

...not having what you want, but wanting what you have.

That's just one of the many lessons our guest contributor has gleaned over the course of 49 years. Mali, a New Zealand-based blogger — a self-described kiwi — writes on a variety of topics. Here, in her words, is how she arrived at her fresh start.

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I didn’t always want children. I know that’s not the typical confession from someone who has dealt with infertility, but I married young, and resisted and resented the almost immediate pressure I felt to have children. I was in a new exciting world where women had a choice. I was insulted by the inference that my biology would decide my place in the world, not my own thoughts, decisions, and talents. My husband was a little more traditional, but he also knew who he had married — that I could only have children when I was ready. I spent many years brushing off unwanted questions about when we were going to have children, building up a persona of the career woman who wasn’t interested in having children.

The "why" didn't fully dawn on me until I was in the final burst of packing for a Thanksgiving family visit.

Our direct flight was just under an hour and half. The destination: a picturesque part of the country, home to the world's largest international independent film festival, a former winter Olympic site, and some of most breathtaking national parks on the planet. Our relatives, peers in age and interests and genuinely warm and lovely people, had lived there since 1998.

There was only one reason why it had taken us 13 years to arrange a proper visit. The why was so large and obvious as to be the elephant in the room.

Our trip would involve spending several days in one of the largest child-centered cultures in the U.S. — the greater Salt Lake City region.

How did it go? Surprisingly well. In fact, I'm chuffed to say that I didn't break a sweat or find my dander rise even when the local hotel where we'd book a room, with its complimentary breakfast, was over-run with toddlers cooing over waffles, or when two new BFFs earnestly set up a Candy Land board game at the base of the one and only coffee station, or when I found myself in the midst of parents swapping stories about the upcoming holidays and plans to entertain ...

The leaves on our trees have reached crimson in their last best performance before taking their inevitable fall. Holiday ads are proliferating. I've just gathered all the canned goods and non-perishables we're not going to consume any time soon for the local food drive. The days are growing ever shorter. The Detroit Lions (yes, I remain a hometown fan) are gearing up for their annual Thanksgiving Day football match.

It seemed only right and proper to partake in a gratitude inventory. In no particular order, here are just some of the many, many things I'm thankful for...

Now, your turn...

You might think this blog title was my response after a recent mainstream media interview that led to the headline, Infertile and Proud ...

But, there's some part of me that doesn't want to change the subject. What I'd like instead is to get beyond the nervous, uncomfortable awkwardness, the sense of being accountable somehow for why I don't have children. As I said in the article, there are many shades of gray when it comes to a person's family status. Just for kicks, imagine with me what it would be like if parents regularly faced the question "why do you have children?" Wouldn't it be a hoot to see how that conversation would go down?

You might say we've been inoculated against the idea that there's more than one hunky dory way for life to unfold. Since we're inundated with glowing messages about motherhood and fatherhood, encouraged to conform, to go with the herd, it's not surprising that we're scrutinized when we don't.Fortunately, there are those willing share their stories and expand the universe of thinking. They'll come in a series of guest posts from around the world — all the better to illuminate the many paths where life can take us. The first comes from Jody in London.
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I'm not sure what possessed me to write it. Was it my cumulative annoyance at People magazine for devoting so much editorial real estate (for instance every week!) to celebrating all aspects of parenthood (hey - how about some equal time, People editors)? Was it the veiled tone of pity, the whiff of judgment, or the implication that there is only one happy ending to the infertility story?

But write I did, and I'm glad for what came next...

Dispatch from "hell:" It's not all bad became an Open Salon

"I found it really refreshing to ...