When the other kids in my class were dreaming of growing up and becoming pilots, astronauts, lawyers, nurses, and doctors, all I wanted was a family of my own. Yes, I was an odd little kid; but that was my dream, the one thing I knew I truly wanted in life. All these years later, there have been a couple career dreams that have come and gone but the most desired childhood dream is still at the heart of all I do, it is still what I long for. It is also never going to happen.
When I was fifteen, there were some problems. Nothing major, but things that needed to be looked into regardless. After many tests with many doctors over the course of four years, there was never anything “wrong” as far as anyone could tell. But the medical experts all seemed to share the same opinion on what the mysterious problem meant: I would never have kids.
I was young enough, then, to still have hope. Doctors can be wrong, afterall. I was young and there was plenty of time to prove them wrong. As I write this, that is no longer the case. While women my age and older have indeed had babies, those women did not have this mystery problem of mine, where nothing is wrong yet things are not right, either. That aside, you need a father and I apparently am completely incapable of selecting the right man for that.
For a while I had convinced myself I didn’t want kids anyway. Things changed briefly and I was given new, false hope that there might be a chance, however slim. I was wrong once again, though, and that hope was yanked away from me as suddenly as it had appeared. Now that I am once again facing the reality of an eternally childless (and in all likelihood also husbandless) state, I am finding it impossible to cope with. If I could just convince myself it isn’t what I want, maybe the hurt would stop. But, now that I no longer have time on my side in the matter, that is not as easy to do as it had been before.
My heart aches for you in a way I cannot describe. I think of you constantly. I wonder if you would have been a boy or a girl, what color hair and eyes you would have. I picture your face, your tiny little hands and feet, a smile that is a striking replica of your daddy’s. I imagine all the things I would do for and with you as you grow up – singing lullabies, changing diapers, reading books, coloring… I see the birthday parties with your friends and the fun themes of whatever I imagine your favorite thing is that year. Cowboy boots and hats, trains, building blocks, glitter, ponies, ballet slippers, adorable tiny little outfits dance in my mind; visions of all the things that could have been but will never be. It all used to be so clear in my mind – things that could have truly been, if only things would work out in the way I wanted. But it has become hazy now, relegated to an eternal dream that will never become reality.
I like to think I would have been a good mom. I probably wouldn’t have been, but I sure would have tried hard to be. I am far from perfect, but I would have done everything in my power to give you a life full of happiness. I would have loved you with everything that is in me, more than you could ever truly know. I DO love you with all I have, though you will never be. This void in my heart can never be filled. I don’t know how to ease the hurt of knowing it will always be there, where you should be.