She is overly chipper when she returns to the room.
I shouldn’t judge. Doctors are supposed to be happy to give good news.
“Well,” she chirps, “you are perfectly healthy!”
I am here for a routine check-up.
I don’t suspect that anything is wrong. And it’s not.
As I step out into the blinding sun, I can’t help but make space for it
The reality that this perfectly healthy body of mine will most likely never carry a baby.
Not because it can’t, but because of my choices.
Don’t get me wrong.
My life is full of much that I love.
I love my daughter (and the Little Ones) more than life itself.
But this was not the plan.
You guys, I thought there would be a soul mate.
(So help me if you leave a comment about your great aunt Myrtle who found her true love at the age of 82…)
I thought there would at least be a choice to carry a baby in my perfectly healthy body.
(I know there are ways to do this without a soul mate and I don’t judge you if you try them. They are not for me.)
It’s not something that I mourn intensely.
But it’s something that throbs a little at moments like this.
Do I wish my babies had a daddy? Yes.
It just doesn’t seem quite fair, you know?
And I can’t help but wonder about the what-ifs.
All of the places that things might have gone differently if I had walked a different way.
I don’t really want to speak this, because I know so many of you have stories that are harder.
Stories that seem much more unfair.
But it is true.
And if there is another mama out there with the same little throb,
I want you to know that you are not alone.
You are not alone
When you step into the blinding sun and your perfectly healthy body mocks you.