In my younger years, I dreamed of having a life similar to my parents’ life together. I would meet a man in college, fall in love, get married, and raise children. To reiterate an article I recently published, this plan was set in motion by playing with my sisters and living life through Barbie.
Playing with Barbie had its flaws. One of the largest problems was having only one Ken doll surrounded by several Barbie dolls (I’m quite certain he had no complaints). The bigger issue was that the game always ended in happily ever after with marriage and children. We had no idea what life held in store for real people beyond that.
My childhood fantasy of marriage and children continued well into my adult years and I looked forward to a wedding day, a husband, pregnancy, labor, and kids. That is what it was, though–a fantasy. I didn’t think of the struggles of marriage, the sleepless nights when children wake or never sleep at all. I did not consider the financial and physical strain of real life; I only dreamed of having a family of my own.
Though I know that the life I wanted then is not the life I want for myself now, life dealt me a cruel hand. My illness is too severe to toy with the idea of sleepless nights, carrying babies, or stress the size of elephants. My mind and body have suffered so much trauma that I have a strong probability of developing postpartum depression, psychosis I may never be able to shake, or worse.
The sense of loss I feel is not tied to the reality of what parenting involves. I would have liked to have the choice, though, to physically give birth, to create life. Sometimes it feels to me that life didn’t even give me lemons. On the upside, I have not given up on love and marriage no matter how complicated that may be. I know that in this world there are people who love each other unconditionally and I definitely want to be part of that. Not following directly down my parents’ path, but forging my own.
I have a husband now, and he makes me happier then I have ever been. I can’t have children, and at times that still feels like a heavy loss. I realize now that Barbie and I share something in common–the fantasy. As I have grown older and have accepted my fate, I appreciate the course my life has taken, and know that even though I cannot bear children, I can be happy. I do not think that having children is what defines a woman. I am a woman, but my purpose here is not to be a mother. I want to be helpful. I want my life to mean something to others and not just to myself. I wish to be a mother of words, of books, of change.
—SJB