If I had the power to help just one girl avoid how I feel now when she grows up, it would be enough. At least one person didn't have her breath held in anticipation for decades over something that never happens.
Oh, it happens to the majority. But I feel it should be taught from a very young age that not only is it okay to not want marriage and children: but the fact that because it simply may not happen before her childbearing years are over. Or some medical condition changes everything.
I know it's virtually impossible for the beloved wife and/or mother to understand. After all, I'll be the first to admit it's difficult to imagine yourself in the shoes of another. I've been single and childless for so long that it makes me tired to think of the challenges wives and mothers endure daily.
But honestly.....shouldn't we be telling the children that they might never get married? And that it's okay?
Well, because I'm not a mother (and probably never will be), maybe I don't realize perhaps it's something you in fact shouldn't tell a child.
However, I feel that my seemingly assigned plight in life would be easier to digest if hadn't been programmed into my head at a young age, although kindly, "you'll get married and have kids one day." Not only by just my parents, but pretty much everyone in society. The words "you'll have a family of your own one day" have been said with so much certainty and conviction, that there was never a doubt in my mind that yes, even I too will actually have a husband and babies made in our images.
So, like most women, my twenties were a time of discovery about men and relationships. One serious, most fleeting. Never more had anyone heard "you're cute, you're nice, but let's be friends." Of course this bothered me deeply, as I felt the clock was ticking away. But many folks reassured me that I had more than enough time to become a family woman as I so desired. I tried packing away my jealousy of the women who found it all in their twenties; handsome adoring husbands and gorgeous babies. I tried focusing on just being me and discovering who I really am.
My thirties bought only more relationship disappointment. For the most part, I kept to myself and had pretty strong faith that the Lord would drop the right one in my path at the right time. Around the age of thirty-five, I started panicking a little. Thirty-five, officially "advanced maternal age," although still a young person. I never envisioned being an older mother, but if it was God's plan for my life, I was happily ready to embrace it. After all Charmin, women are having babies well into their forties. Chill out. It's gonna happen. Be patient. Wait on God, I told my impatient self. After all, there's someone for everyone, right? You're quite the peculiar blend; indecipherable to most, but someone's gonna take a sip and claim you for their own.
It did happen. Precisely a year before I turned forty. I met someone, we dated, and finally, finally, I'm actually having a conversation with someone who says he loves me, wants to marry me, and have at least one baby of our own. When did we hope to have this accomplished? By at least 2020. Ironically, which is now.
Now, where this someone turned out to be a monster from a Stephen King novel and had to be dismissed. Now, where I am still recovering from a medically necessary total hysterectomy that occurred only a month and a half ago. Now, where I know that I will never biologically give birth to my own child. It's something I had dreamt of my entire life. I have always been fascinated with pregnancy, wondered what it would feel like, even the birth and delivery part. I always fantasized what a child of my own would look like, always dreaming he or she would resemble me for the most part, loving on him or her and doing the best I could to be a good, loving mother. Being a good wife to his or her father.
Now...no.
While I praise God for seeing me through the ups and downs, the emotional roller coaster has been miserable. Not just the myriad of hormone-fueled emotions typically experienced after a hysterectomy, but the overall disappointment of not experiencing that golden fairytale of love and legacy. That fairytale that everyone told me would happen, yet it didn't. Again, I find myself annoyed that it's automatically told to children that it will happen when I know good and damn well it's not guaranteed for everyone. This isn't me being negative or pessimistic. It's just me being real, raw, and honest.
One of the hardest things to tolerate after having a hysterectomy or enduring any other fertility issues is being surrounded by all of the people that the fairytale have happened for. It seems that the moment I learned of the need for my hysterectomy, everyone around me started popping up pregnant. Literally. One of my coworkers, a very nice young lady revealed her pregnancy at virtually the same time. Although I've never been happier for this young friend of mine, it was a silent yet sharp kick in my side to see her grow with a beautiful new life inside of her, knowing it will never be me. The kicker is, she wound up giving birth on the same day I had my procedure. Any time I went out of the house after surgery, BOOM! Roundly pregnant women everywhere! Beautiful babies and children innocently smiling or waving at me. The worst place a woman can be after learning of her infertility/becoming infertile, is social media. Admittedly, Facebook and Instagram posts of pregnancy announcements and newborn babies have gutted my soul. It's really something to be genuinely happy for a family member or friend; like and comment with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. Us childless ladies can say "team no kids" all day, but deep down in my heart, I know we're missing out on the job of deepest satisfaction in life (so I'm told): motherhood.
Infertility. It's a time when you as a woman think of pregnancy scares of the past only to wish those scares would've came true. I find myself beating myself up for not using my uterus when it was healthy, before the fibroids. All those years, wasted on undesirables and mainly, by myself. Single mothers that I somewhat had judgment about now easily sources of envy. I'm sure they can vouch that single motherhood isn't nearly as boring and unfulfilling as having no children is.
Everyone keeps throwing adoption in my face. I know they mean well, but it's still hitting me wrong and awkwardly. I would never rule out adoption, but it's something my mind can't comprehend right now. Firstly, men hate me, so I don't have a significant other to help out with a child that I chose to adopt. Secondly, it's no secret that sometimes children that are put up for adoption come with unforseen issues. Issues that only true golden hearts can handle. So that entire idea is on the backburner for now.
Maybe the good Lord will see to it that I have a caring, loving mate one day, but I've learned not to hold my breath. Wait a minute, let me correct myself. I've taught myself not to want it no longer. I'm no counselor (yet), but I'm almost certain I've done this as a defense mechanism. In my mind, it's just not possible, someone actually loving me for me. My inside as well as my outside. In 42 years, I've never experienced it so why keep hyping myself up expecting for it to happen? Not that I feel I'm a lesser person for it because I think very highly of myself. But it just goes back to my original point. That there isn't someone for everyone. That marriage and children is purely a fairytale only meant for some select people.
I have no shame; I've been seeing a therapist occasionally for about two years now. I'm trying not to cuss so much these days, but she's f*ckin' awesome. The way she listens to me with no bias or judgment is f*ckin' awesome. I'm not sure if I ever experienced that in my life. When I poured my heart out to her a couple of weeks ago, she encouraged me to blog and journal my feelings. I told her that although I already enjoy doing so, that I hadn't in a while because, life. We discussed that besides me getting my feelings out and having a more positive outlook on life, that perhaps and maybe I can help others out as well. Now that there makes me feel really good, the thought of helping another who needs comfort, soothing, and understanding. Which is why more than ever, it's time for me to yet again return to school. With no children and no spouse, I can focus on being an even better me. I'd love to become a therapist myself.
Maybe you read this because you actually love and care for me. Maybe you read it out of curiosity. Whatever your reason, I hope I gave you something to think about. Maybe you'll hug your children a little harder today, despite their temper tantrums, you could not have them in your life. Kiss your husband or wife a little longer, although he left the toilet seat up or perhaps she spent a few more dollars than she should have at the mall.
Or, maybe you'll tell your children/teenagers that maybe they won't get married or have children. Not that they're undesirable, but that sometimes, it just doesn't happen that way. That there's other life outcomes. And that it's okay.
-Charmin
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