Being a non-mother

Let’s talk about children. Let’s talk about motherhood. I’m sure some of you who are reading this are mothers and some aren’t. Some have borne children while others are stepmothers, foster mothers, godmothers or something like a mother. But what if you aren’t a mother at all? What if you never carried a child in your womb and gave birth? What if no one calls you mom? Does that make you less of a woman? Does that make you less of a person?

This is not a post about what a mother is or what it means to be a mother. This is a post about what it feels like to be a woman who once wanted children but never had them and now physically can’t. These are my initial thoughts on what it feels like to be “gutted” and physically unable to bear and birth a child.

What does “gutted” mean? How about this: In July I had a total hysterectomy, a bilateral oophorectomy and a stage four endometriosis excision. The surgeon removed everything except for my vagina. It’s all gone. Gone. Talk about a gut job. I mistakenly believed I would be okay after a few weeks. I discovered the hard way that my case was radically different.

I’m not going to try and describe what it feels like after this surgery. Besides the pain and discomfort, my body was thrown straight into menopause which caused hot flashes, emotional turmoil, a big hormone imbalance and resignation that my body would never feel the same again. And it didn’t take long for me to feel the effects of never being able to get pregnant. Never feel my baby kick or know labor pains and the sheer joy of seeing, hearing and holding my child for the first time. All gone. Never gonna happen. There were tears.

Of course I knew this when I agreed to the surgery. But I needed the surgery and I’m beyond childbearing years. It should’ve been fine with me. But maybe it never was. Maybe this traumatic experience forced me to review my history and my wishes and decisions. I’ll never really know if I was able to get pregnant and have a child. In the short window when it might have happened, I decided to let it go and not try. But that’s a long story for another time.

I’m sitting here writing this and my insides don’t feel like they’re missing. But the truth is, I’m barren. I will never get pregnant. I will never be a biological mother.

Can I make peace with that? Do I have a choice? And how about another kind of mother? I’m not a foster mother or a godmother or even an aunt who is like a mother. I was a nanny to a wonderful two-year old many years ago and it was probably my favorite job. And I have friends with kids and I love them and enjoy being with them, but that’s something different.

How about stepmother? Technically I am. I married a man with a teenage son. He never looked at me like a mother, never initiated a relationship with me as anyone other than a woman who married his father. I never tried taking his mother’s place and wanted only to have some kind of a friendship with him. It was my one chance to feel like some kind of a mother in a small way. I would’ve happily been his stepmom, but he wasn’t interested. Despite years of trying, I never changed his mind.

Today, I respect his decision and I don’t consider myself his stepmother in any way other than through the title by marriage. He has four beautiful children and they won’t see me in any way other than the woman married to their grandfather. It’s taken a lot of time and tears to feel okay about this, especially these days when I’m battling pain, regret and emotional stress.

There’s beauty in acceptance. There’s surrender. There’s the weight that lifts when you know who you are and who you’ll never be, and you’re okay with it. We all have roles in life and it’s okay if one of my roles isn’t mother. Do I have days when I cry with the desire to hear my child call me mom? When I think about what I’m missing not being a mom? Of course, and I probably always will.

As I struggle with my continued physical healing from extensive surgery, I also struggle emotionally. But I’m putting it out there. I’m owning it and that’s an awesome thing.

Here’s to all the mothers out there and all the non-mothers. You are all amazing.