Guest Post By Anonymous
NOTE: Readers of this site prove time and again that among the community of women without children — more than 23 million in the US alone –no two stories are alike, even if they appear to be similar on the surface. It logically follows that a random selection of five NotMoms without kids By Choice or By Chance on any given day will reveal varying feelings about living child-free. It might be foolish, however, to assume that a single snapshot in time clearly defines their feelings.
I may have made that mistake in a recent post about how good it feels to realize that Facebook photos of a friend’s children don’t make me sad anymore. But, on the same day that post was published, I received this one from a woman who prefers to be anonymous and in a very different space. She reminds me — us — of the fluidity of grief. –kmw
I thought I was over it. Clearly I’m not. Actually, I thought I’d never actually been in it.
For most of my life I didn’t think I wanted children. I never had any interest in being pregnant and always believed strongly in adoption. But children weren’t ever really on my radar.
Then I got older and began to think differently. I had no interest in bringing up a baby, and had even less interest in carrying one inside me. Then I got even older, and I got married, and then I began to think about it. It didn’t happen.
Now, I’m in the age bracket where my friends are becoming grandparents, and although that brings a passing melancholy of its own, I didn’t expect my reaction to the post of a Facebook friend. Eight little words: “It’s confirmed, I’m going to be a Mommy!”