JG
Do you have kids?
No. I have scars.
I have scars in my chest and belly from over 30 incisions made during the seven scheduled and emergency surgeries for endometriosis complications.
I have scars from every time I am asked about having children.
Every pregnancy announcement.
Every gender reveal.
Every ultrasound posted to social media.
Every baby shower I’m invited to.
Every negative pregnancy test I ever took.
Everyone else’s unplanned pregnancies.
Every parent that complains about their child.
Every family gathering where we are the only childless couple.
Every time we are not invited to something because we are childless.
Every Valentine’s Day with no child to make valentines cards with.
Every Easter with no child to do an Easter egg hunt with.
Every spring with no child to pick flowers with.
Every Mother’s Day.
Every summer with no child to teach how to swim.
Every Father’s Day.
Every back to school week.
Every fall with no child to take to a pumpkin patch.
Every Halloween with no child to take Trick or Treating.
Every Thanksgiving with no child to watch the parade and cook with.
Every winter with no child to sip hot cocoa with.
Every Christmas with no child to open gifts on Christmas morning.
Every time a baby smiles at me in the grocery store.
Every time I see a mother nursing.
Every pregnancy test commercial.
Every birthday.
Every vivid dream I’ve had of becoming a mother only to wake up in tears knowing it can never be.
Every day that my parents and in laws will never be grandparents.
Every family heirloom that I will not know what to do with when the time comes.
Every cherished memory and family tradition I have that will just die with me.
Every time I wonder who will be there for me in the end.
Every uncomfortable look I get from strangers asking a question that I don’t want to answer.
The scars that hurt the most are the ones we cannot see.
