More than anything in life, I wanted children. I was preparing for my children all my life. I was the neighborhood baby sitter. Even when I was still in college, the neighborhood kids would come to the house and ask my mother “Can Wendy come out and play?” I became a school teacher. I worked with the kids at church… And yet it was not meant for me to have children. For a long time I was angry with God, because he knew my heart.
I always had kids with me and around me. I always saw my future as having a husband and a house full of children. As time moved on, I began to see, this was not to be.
What hurt even more was finding out that my ex-husband did not really want children. And even though we had many conversations, before we married, about having a family, the reality was that he did not want children, or at least not with me. Looking back on our ugly experiment of a marriage, this now explains so much. I was constantly talking about wanting to have a baby, and he was trying to avoid one at all costs. Those two polar opposites cannot exist in the real world, but still did not change the fact that I continued to stay, hoping that he would change his mind. (This probably explains the having sex fewer than 12 times in the seven years we were married… but that is another blog…lol)
There are times when I look at other women with their children, and there is a pain that is deep in my heart.
I know that people tell me that I have lots of “children”, and I love each and every one of my “kids”, but there are times when that is just not enough. The old church mothers say that the Lord will not give you more that you can bear. My faith is unwavering, and my love does not change for Him, but there are times late at night when I quietly pray, Lord how could you not give me the one desire of my heart.
Sometimes I get lost in the pit of having no children. It is a place that quite a few of us live. It is a place that is filled with tears. A place that has an overwhelming sense of sadness. A place that is cold and damp. A place that is void of furniture, drapes on the windows, ….it is a lonely place, a desolate place…and it can be hard to escape. I still find myself there, though I don’t go as often as I used to. There was a time when I used to live there, and it was bad, very bad. These days I make an occasional visit, well it is more like being kidnapped. When I feel myself slipping there is really nothing that I can do about it until I get out. Usually around holidays, or sometimes when I am in the middle of a pity party, those times are the most difficult. It is hard to talk to my friends because they have children, and it is hard for them to understand. So it becomes an internal anguish and silent struggle to find my way out, but I do make my way out.
I have come to believe that there is a purpose for my not having children, and these many years later, while I am still looking for that purpose, I am more at peace with it. Maybe the purpose is to simply share this part of my story. Maybe it is to show others that even if you don’t get what you want, life does go on. I think one of the lessons is that you can not only live through pain, but you can live with the hurts that come your way. The life that you have planned for yourself, may not be the life you get, but how you live that life is the true test. I don’t know what it is, and I may never really know…but each day that goes by, is another day that I have survived. Each passing day is another day I have lived, and I have lived it, happily ever after.