That’s it, It’s over, I’m too old.
I’ve kind of known for a while that having a baby wasn’t going to happen for me. I remember my gynecologist giving me the baby talk at every annual exam I had in my thirties. My Aunt kept telling me about women she knew who’d had babies into their late thirties, but when I hit forty she stopped, I guess she didn’t know anyone who had babies in their forties. I stayed blissfully in denial that it was over until just the other day. I had been thinking that if I couldn’t live that dream myself that maybe I’d help someone else live that dream by being a surrogate, but when I saw the age range for surrogates it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m too old. The oldest qualifying age is 42, and I am 44. I burst into tears feeling like my life was over. It wasn’t fair, my circumstances had robbed me of ever having the daughter I wanted, the one I was going to name after my mother who passed away when I was seventeen.
The tribe
I am just one of many in the tribe of involuntarily childless women, and men. There are many reasons why we were forced into this tribe, be it infertility, illness, disability, and in my case, circumstances, but we are all grieving a child that never got to exist. I never saw my baby in a sonogram or held a positive pregnancy test in my hand, but I have dreamed of my baby for years and now she’s gone. Our grief isn’t accepted in society, we’re told we should have tried harder and sought out other options. That our childlessness is because we failed in some way or that something is wrong with us. I’m here to tell you that society is wrong, and to help give my tribe a voice.
Circumstances
I know this sounds terrible, but I am envious of women who had infertility problems because at least they got to try to have a baby. Infertility is the most common, and most mentioned circumstance for being childless, but it’s not mine. I wanted the deal, the package that a lot of women want. You know the one with the husband, the babies, and the house with the white picket fence. I have yet to find a husband, and I don’t have the financial or living situation to do it alone. That same situation also makes me unsuitable to adopt or foster children. If you’ve read my blog then you know that I am also a survivor of rape. Being raped left me unable to date throughout the rest of my thirties, a time when I would have still been able to have a healthy baby. Again, I was robbed.
Let us Grieve
Telling me not to give up is not helpful. I am not giving up I am thinking logically. Telling me my options as if I don’t know that there are other options is also not helpful. If I wanted to or could have used another option I would have. My childlessness is not a problem to be solved it is a loss that needs to be grieved. Childlessness isn’t just the loss of having a baby, it’s the loss of ever being pregnant, of holding your child’s hand, of being woken up at 4 am on Christmas morning by excited children, of taking that first day of school photo. It’s a loss that many men grieve too.
Life goes on
Even though coming to terms with my childlessness made me feel like my life was over, it’s not. I have other goals, and my hope is that focusing on these goals will help me cope with the loss I feel of never having a child. If you’re also a member of the tribe, remember your emotions are valid. You are allowed to grieve this loss. I also want you to know that I see and I hear you. You are not alone. If you want to reach out to me feel free to email me. You can follow me on Twitter and Facebook.
Love and Blessings, Carrie.