Childless Mother
A womb that will always be empty. A nest forever free of little hens. I thought I was okay. I am okay, right? Since having to make the decision, I’ve told myself so many things to make myself forget how painful this might be. I push, push, pushed it down, until I could pretend that it didn’t exist - the agony of knowing my womb will never grow a child full of both Ethan and I. I’d never know whose laugh that child would get, whose eyes, whose sense of humor. Whether he would have a strong personality like me or a gentle personality like Ethan. Whether she’d need braces, or get lucky like I did. Whether he’d be a ‘sports’ kid, or an ‘academic’ kid. No matter the option, it wasn’t choice. I knew in my heart that regardless of so many mothering possibilities out there, my physical body is incapable of caring for a child from womb through adulthood. I told myself it doesn’t matter, because I’d have been a shit mom anyways. I’d have little patience, I wouldn’t be loving enough, I would