People ask me why I don’t have children. The answer is simple: I wasn’t chosen.
It’s not because I don’t want them. I do. I still do. But wanting something isn’t the same as being able to manifest it. Life doesn’t bend to desire alone. And in my case, it never aligned with the people who might have shared that path with me. I’ve been the one others rely on for support, for counsel, for companionship. but not the one they build a future with. I’ve been the safe harbor, not the foundation of a home.
Motherhood is often romanticized...like it’s a role every woman is naturally equipped to take. But my body tells a different story. My physical structure is the same as the average woman’s. I'm built to carry the standard load of pregnancy and gestation. I’ve tried to imagine it. I’ve even wanted it. But the truth is, my body isn’t just different. it’s a limit, a boundary I cannot and will not push past recklessly. I don’t shy from honesty, and I don’t lie to myself.
Some people stumble into parenthood early, swept up in desire or circumstance. They take the leap without thinking, without knowing if they’ll be ready, if they’ll be chosen in return, if their bodies and minds will hold up. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But I can’t force a life where it doesn’t fit. I can’t coerce love, or family, or physical reality to conform to my hopes.
I don’t beg to be loved. I don’t pressure anyone to align with my vision. If it’s not mutual, I let it go. I honor myself enough not to pretend, enough not to create false hope, enough not to gamble with the sanctity of a life I cannot safely carry. That’s just real.
This doesn’t make me incomplete. It doesn’t make me less human. It doesn’t make me unworthy of joy, intimacy, or purpose. My body, my heart, my choices, they define me, not someone else’s inability to see me fully.
Motherhood, in every form, is sacred. But it is not my path.I am whole. I am chosen by myself. And that, more than anything, is enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment