“This process of acceptance is not without pain and sadness, but as time passes, there is also a residue of relief, a feeling of having narrowly escaped a critical trap.”
I am not one of those women who instinctively knew from a young age that they did not want children.
On the contrary, I always imagined that at some point in my life, I would be a mother. However, that moment was always situated in a more or less distant future.
This year I turned 43, and that ideal time when my desire for motherhood would be realized has still not arrived, nor is it expected to. Therefore, I find myself forced to review it and to assume that it will most likely fall into the abyss of never-realized possibilities.
The reasons for this are multiple, profound, and complex. To start with, I have not had an appropriate partner at a suitable time, nor felt it was right for me to embark on the project alone. Besides, I had a difficult adolescence and youth, I struggled enough to take care of myself as to consider taking care of a baby.
I place a high value on freedom and independence, I have a calm and solitary nature that craves time and silence to grow, and all those needs are clearly incompatible with being a mum.
So, faced with the persistent doubt for over twenty years, my infinite and lacerating ambivalence, I decided to abstain, especially considering that it is an irrevocable decision which involves such an absolute responsibility as engendering and nurturing a new life.
This process of acceptance is not without pain and sadness, but as time passes, there is also a residue of relief, a feeling of having narrowly escaped a critical trap.
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