A few years ago I sat across a table from a friend of almost 30 years. I don’t even know how we got to this place in our conversation but she said, “Oh, I just assumed you never wanted to be married or have kids.” This is a moment I’ll never forget.
This week I sat beside an acquaintance of 15 years who is becoming a dear friend. She said, “I’ve always wondered… do you want to have kids?”
I was the one who played house and was always “the mom”. I was the one who played school and was always “the teacher”. The only “job” I have ever wanted is to be a wife and mother. While I appreciate these friends’ honesty, I was baffled. What vibe have I put off that communicates this “never”?
This is a new season for me. Biologically it’s pretty not possible for me to have children. Only those who have walked through infertility or are in my same place can understand this hole. It’s a deep ache.
This hasn’t been a choice of mine. You may beg to differ but it hasn’t.
Over the last three years I’ve watched Lisa Harper become a mom at 52 by adopting her daughter Missy. Oh, what a joy to follow their journey on Instagram. I don’t have the resources for that choice but it’s fun to watch her.
I am beyond grateful for dear friends who invite me in to their families’ lives – the ones whose kids call me “Aunt”. It’s a gift I don’t take for granted.
One friend who has walked through YEARS of infertility often includes me in those conversations. At those times I feel “seen”. I know it’s not the same but the ache is similar.
My peers now have kids in college. Many are becoming empty nesters. It’s like they have lived a whole 20+ year life I’ll never know.
I don’t feel less because I’m not a mother but I do feel different. Like there is something normal almost every woman experiences that I haven’t.
This is one of those journal-type posts I’m not putting on social media. Only those of you who subscribe to my blog will ever see it. I’m grateful for you, too. Thanks for allowing me to ramble tonight.