The other day a regular customer of mine asked me "the question". I've worked in the same place for a little over 3 years but that was the first time he asked me that question. It was because I had finished worked and I was walking to my bike stand, so he asked if I had time to chit-chat and I said yes (we had a short convo while I packed some stuff into my bike's bags). When I said no, he immediately asked, "Are you going to try to have kids?"
I said no.
He asked, "But why not? Don't you think kids are fun/great to have?"
I vaguely answered, "Weeeeeellll..."
I was debating inside on whether or not I should tell him that we couldn't have children, but thankfully he let it go and we parted ways soon after that and to be fair, he gave me a compliment about my work before ending our chit-chat, so I thanked him.
Over the course of my IF journey, every now and then (esp. in the beginning) I felt this nagging question of "If you're not a mother/parent, what are you doing with your life?" There were times when I acutely felt the urge to find something "as grand/noble" to fill my life with, because if we really think about it, being able to be directly involved in the life of the future generation is really something. And because I'm not working in a place like that, that nagging question pops up every now and then, but so far I've countered them with these thoughts:
1. God wants me to be faithful with what He's entrusted me with no matter how "small" it may be, so I'm gonna focus on doing my best to take care of what I have (job, marriage, healthy friendships - don't need no toxic friends, thanks) every single day of my life.
Someone once suggested to me about being foster parents or doing things involving other people's kids, but I don't feel called to do those things, so I'm not going to force myself to do it even if I have the opportunity.
2. "If you think you're too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito." - Dalai Lama
I believe in the ripple effect. I believe that many times in life we don't know what kind of difference we may have made because the ripple effect is so subtle and we may not even know about it at all in our lifetime or we may only find out about it much later in life. But that doesn't matter. What matters is still back to number #1: making the best of each aspect of my life.
3. When all else fails, I'll keep recharging myself with God's words:
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
- Psalm 139:13
Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.
- 2 Cor 12:19
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The other day I think I had my first experience of crying with so much gratitude that my heart felt like it was going to burst mixed with some grief over the losses of a life as a non-mother. It was bittersweet. The tears didn't run too long, but it was cleansing. :-)
The triggers? The gratitude came from hearing positive feedback about myself from different people including from MIL. I was SO touched and thankful to be able to hear those words, but at the same time I realized how much more they meant to me because I'm not a mother. Only after I heard the words did I realize that I had actually been waiting for some confirmation that I was doing something right as a non-mom. Like I was secretly wishing that the universe would give me signs that what I was doing in the community was enough even if I could never become a mother.
The grief came much later that day while I was reading a manga series that dealt with cute little twins (a boy and a girl) that I had subscribed to (I had been reading it since ages ago and it's still not finished yet). Reading about their antics and how they grew not just in size but also in many different areas in life made me feel sad because I could never watch my own child(ren) grow. And that was when I remembered the positive feedback from all those people which counterbalanced my grief. It felt surreal.
It was probably the first time when I cried tears of grief that didn't weigh upon my chest. Instead, the feeling of gratitude gave the grief some wings...After they held me in their embrace for a little while, off they flew, leaving me sighing contentedly.
One of the aspects of reading that I like is that it may make me understand something about myself that I haven't realized yet.
During TTC, when I was so bent on joining the motherhood tribe, I always felt out of place or even "ashamed" to say that I had no kids, because that meant I didn't belong in that tribe I wished desperately to join. That I couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of having a life growing inside me, that I couldn't possibly understand how it felt like to give birth, to hold a baby for the first time in my arms, how tough it would be to find ways to make a child avoid certain kinds of food that may make him/her allergic, how to deal with the child's bullies etc. etc. etc.
Because of this shame (actually, Mali has written a brilliant and thought-provoking post on this topic: Infertility and Shame), I felt this urge to (over)compensate for the non-mom status in whichever way possible. I think the urge came partly from myself and partly from society because there was this little voice inside me that said that the world expected something else from me because I was a non-mom, so I felt pressured or even burdened to be able to "give more" to society in other ways so to speak. This urge wasn't constant, though, and it wasn't that strong, but I did feel it every now and then back then.
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And curiously enough during that time I remember having the wish to try to understand motherhood by reading blogs about child rearing, even though that actually never really happened because my bleeding heart couldn't take it (but I accepted my closest friends kiddies stories with open arms - probably because it's easier to accept the kids that had been born before we started TTC and because I know they love their kids).
Nowadays, though, I've sensed a shift in this area. These days I don't feel ashamed anymore about my non-mom status (though I can't say for sure when the shift started). I feel more like saying, "I'm a non-mom. So what? It's true that I may not understand too much of what parents are dealing with, but in the same way I don't expect parents to truly understand what I've been going through, either. Every journey is different and even a parent's stories will differ from another's. At least I have some people who understand what I've been going through and that's enough. I'm willing to enlighten anyone who wants to listen to my infertility story, but the bottom line is that I've let go of my dream to join the motherhood tribe, so it's okay even if I don't get it. It's okay even if I can't share my own motherhood stories. It's okay even if I can't share my own tips and tricks as a mother. It's okay even if I can't show you any kiddy pictures. I'm okay."
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P.S. Mind you, I'm not saying I'm "completely healed" and feelings may fluctuate (esp. during PMS), but I'd like to call this progress and I just want to write this down for future reference. :-)
