Carol Leigh Frye
I believe personal worth or lack of it is defined by how a person utilizes what they have for the benefit or detriment of others.
My upbringing instilled in me the rather problematic idea that the highest calling of a woman is marriage and motherhood. As a child, I was required to perform many childcare and household tasks as my parents achieved their goal of having 7 children together. At age 19, I was correctly diagnosed with severe polycystic ovarian syndrome and informed that I would never bear a child. That was only devastating in the sense that I had to find a new purpose for my life other than wife and mother, as I was single, and would remain so for the next 11 years.
Being single and childless made me worthy to achieve my personal desire to care for my beloved grandpa at the beginning of my career in geriatric medicine. I wanted to help take care of him more than anything. He had invested a lot of love into my first 3 years of life, and I got to give that love right back the last 3 years of his life. Of course, his 2011 death shattered me, but I loved my job, and other patients won a place in my affection and when they died I felt lost. I felt my single childless life made me uniquely qualified for this job because I was available for overtime. I was worthy of the exhilaration of knowing I mattered to my patients. They felt like I delivered excellent care, but more than that, I loved them.
In 2012, my 4 married sisters began having children. I was devastated because I felt less than any of them because of my infertility. What I couldn't imagine was that because of my infertility I was so much more than what my married sisters could be.
I was worthy to care for my beloved grandfather until his death.
I was worthy to care for other old people who became like family to me.
In 2014, I married my first husband Donnie. He had kidney failure, and died 5 years, 2 months after we married. I was worthy of both the privilege of love, and the agony of widowhood.
In 2015, I began grieving for my fertility loss. I am worthy of not only the pain of coping with my reality of a childless life, but the joys of learning to appreciate my freedom to do what my sisters can't do. I can pamper myself whenever, mostly do whatever whenever, learn new hobbies.
In 2022, I married my second husband and I travel with him in his job as a trucker. I love our life, and I see it as "more better" than my former career in health care. We see different places regularly, some of it so beautiful I cried, thankful for my infertility. I was worthy of these beautiful scenes because of my infertility.
Before this year, my married sisters with children enjoyed the majority of my parents' favor. My parents enjoyed their grandchildren, and I felt I was not valued because I was different from my sisters. Remember the problematic idea that marriage and motherhood was the highest calling a woman could aspire to? Well, uh, three of my sisters proved that idea wrong.
This year, my family was shattered when three of my sisters made some decisions that literally destroyed trust and relationships in our family. Now their fertility is a weapon meant to destroy, and I had to cut two sisters from my life because their choices were so toxic. My parents' 41 year marriage is under attack, stressed out because of my sisters' lies. Suddenly, I have more favor from my parents than I ever had, because I can't wound them like my fertile sisters have this year. I am worthy of my parents favor, always was.
I'm worthy of a life that has laughter and happiness and fulfilled dreams, not only shattered one's. I am worthy of challenges and successes and the learning curve.
And so are you.
