Most of my adult life I felt that something was missing.
I thought it was having children. I dreamt of having babies and being a mum since I was young. I just knew that having a baby would make me happy.
If it would have, I’ll never know.
What I do know, is trying to conceive made me miserable. It was the hardest, most isolating time of my life. Funny thing was, I didn’t even appreciate just how miserable I was. I was too busy focusing on achieving the goal, being ‘positive’ at all costs and never giving up hope.
Before I knew it, eight years of my life went past. Not only did I not have a baby, I’d given everything to have one.
After a miscarriage, I perhaps hit my bottom. I was exhausted. I was empty. And I was incredibly sad. I realised this was no way to live. Something had to change.
In that darkness, I lost hope. It was exactly what I needed.
I no longer prayed for a baby, I prayed for the strength and the love to create a life without one.
I made a decision. I decided that if trying to have a baby wasn’t working then I had to do something different. I stopped trying to control the outcome. I surrendered to life. I let go.
It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. It was painful. I grieved. Perhaps hardest of all was that I now had to face the gap in my life. Who was I now if I wasn’t going to be a mother?
It was uncomfortable. I felt exposed and vulnerable.
Letting go created space for other things in my life but it took time.
I began to realise that there were many ways to create family, to nurture, to love. Maybe we’re not all meant to be mothers? Maybe life has other plans for some of us?
I understood that letting go is a decision and it is a process. It takes courage, but most of all, it takes a trust that life is going to work out.