Today I gladly yield the floor to my longtime friend Lauren Esparza. After reading my piece last week about what I learned through infertility, she wanted to respond with her own piece about how God has used her childlessness to make her into the woman he intended her to be. It’s a beautiful and needed perspective and I’m glad to help her share it. So here’s Lauren in her own words:
I love kids. I think they are fantastic little humans who are honest and experience life with a freeness that we don’t really embrace as adults. Sure, sometimes they throw tantrums or their version of having fun gets out of hand, but in general I think they are pretty darn great. My life’s work has been built around studying children, being a voice and advocate for them, and teaching them to communicate. I know a lot about what makes kids laugh and cry, how they like to play, and how they respond to their environment. I have kissed skinned knees, wipes tears (and noses), and given about a million hugs over the years. I have loved deeply, nurtured their little hearts, and listened to their hurts and fears.
Despite all that, I still feel the heavy weight of the question ”How many kids do you have?” because I know there’s going to be judgement and follow up on the answer. “None. I don’t have any. I have all my kiddos at work, so I feel like I have several.” Those are my stock answers, and honestly, none of these answers is the right one- I can see it in the eyes of whomever I’m talking to. Polite people don’t say anything, but unfortunately they are few and far between. So many more begin blurting out questions- “Why haven’t you had kids yet?”, “Are you going to have kids?”, “Don’t you want your own?” Even the doctor asks questions like this. And then the advice comes- “Well, you better get started”, “Don’t wait too long”, “Well, you’re getting older so you don’t have much longer.” This doesn’t just come from women, but men too. More often than not, they are people I would only consider acquaintances.
I’m going to share something private here, because I feel so strongly that people need to stop asking women detailed questions about why they don’t have children or giving them advice. Yes, it’s ok to ask if someone has children. No, it’s not ok to ask why. Don’t try to mentally conjure up scenarios in which you think it is ok. It’s not. If they want to say why, they will. So, I’m going share my story publicly, because I want you to be able to understand why this is such a deep issue and why the answers to your questions aren’t simple. Often they’re so much more complicated than can be shared with inquiring minds in what you believe to be a casual conversation. Mine is just one story, but we all have them.
Here’s the truth- I can’t say exactly why I don’t have children. My mom says that when I was young, I told her that I was never going to get married or have children. Apparently, I’m a girl who sticks to her word! (Also, I’m a girl who likes to deflect from a situation with humor.) In my early to mid twenties, I had dreams of finding the right person and creating a family together. I had spent time volunteering in an orphanage and had this desire to adopt children who needed a better life. I’ve always loved kids, so it felt natural. I told myself I’d never be an “old” mom, which in my mind meant not having kids after 30. But, it just didn’t work out that way. As I got older, I began to have this feeling that I physically couldn’t have kids. I couldn’t explain why I thought that, but the sensation intensified as I got older. I just knew it in my heart and never really told anyone I felt that way. I cried a lot- which may sound silly because I didn’t have any proof. But, I couldn’t fight the niggling feeling that biologically being a mom was not part of my story. Over the course of several years, I worked hard to just let go and find a peace within myself that motherhood might not be the path that God had set me on. I didn’t want to just pretend I was letting go as a bargaining chip, like “Hey, God- I don’t care about this anymore, so you can just give it to me now.” I’ll admit it was really tough (especially when I was working with super cute babies.) Every time a well meaning person told me that I’d be a good mom or said they were praying for me to find the right guy and have kids, it hurt. It hurts writing it now. I didn’t want people to pray or wish for something that wasn’t meant for me. Oddly enough, I also didn’t want to be told by someone else that having kids wasn’t not an option. I guess I figured that either way, it was out of mine and everyone else’s hands and pretending otherwise was just too painful. Just because I came to terms with not being a mom, didn’t mean all my mommy genes and desires were dead.
In the last few years, I’ve struggled with my health. Through visits to several specialists I’ve been diagnosed with fibromyalgia and polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS.) As it turns out, infertility is quite common with PCOS, so it seems like my intuition wasn’t too far off. In retrospect, I wonder if that season of heart healing leading up to a diagnosis was God’s way of softening the blow. It gave me the ability to see that my battle isn’t trying to to figure out how I’m going to be a mother. It’s taking care of my body and getting to a place where I can use the gifts and talents I’ve been given to nurture other people’s children who need me. In many ways I’m grateful that I can have this season to focus on my health without the pressures and responsibilities that come with being a wife and mother. I can’t say what the future holds, but I don’t want to live a life of waiting to become something I’m not meant to be. There are so many things that I am- I’m a caretaker and healer, I’m a traveler and gypsy, I’m a musician and dancer. But, I’m not a mother…and that’s ok. Because above all else, I am a child of God and I am loved.
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