When I was lying in bed last year recovering from a major operation I joined Twitter. That might seem like a frivolous, trivial thing but until I went into hospital I’d been fiercely private and ferociously protective about my life. I was a closed book, guarded my secrets and certainly didn’t discuss my dark lows.
Everything changed the day I went into hospital. I walked in with my ability to have children and came out without it; it’s changed me forever and given me a passionate honesty I didn’t foresee.
One thing’s for certain; not being sure you want children is entirely different to knowing you can’t have them. I’m surprised by how much it’s affected me.
I overthink too much
Because my father walked out when I was very young, I had a complete mental block on having children of my own. When he walked away, he took a huge chunk of my self-confidence and left a raw, gaping hole that didn’t heal. The pressure to pick the right partner who would always be there and never bolt was overwhelming.
I had spells of feeling broody but I was never maternal like some of my friends. I watched them become mothers and doubted I had the patience to be as amazing as they were. Looking back, I wonder what my life would look like today if I’d just got on with it.
I’m not as invincible as I believed I was…
I’ve bounced back from all kinds of lows in my life; divorce, depression, nothing has defeated me. It’s strange grieving for something that you never actually had. What you’ve lost is just a fantasy. Days can tick by and I don’t even think about it, then I’ll see a little girl looking up at her mum as she walks down the street holding her hand and have to quickly make a detour so they don’t see my tears. I feel winded and have to really focus on snapping myself back into the moment.