I Have Never Had a Child

I Have Never Had a Child

Is there still hope? Or does the possibility loom before me like the black silk of the ocean under a midnight sky?

Do I hang on to hope?

My faith radiates as the starry glow of the moon when darkness falls. It is Luminous in its beauty, as it cast its silvery beams out as a beacon of light to illuminate the true color of the waves.

Shall I recognize that each undulation feels like the motion of that hope…backwards and forward…forward and backwards…there’s time…it’s too late… it’s too late , there’s still time…?

Shall I listen to the statistics?

It’s too late.

Family?

There is still time.

Friends?

Enjoy the freedom.

My thoughts shine before me like the colors of a rainbow; I have felt each myriad of its vibrant language.

Red- Rich with passion and fire. I know I can find my way and blaze a path that leads me to my destiny.

Orange- That simmer, that slow burn, where I find my strength and my courage to move beyond the odds and know that timing is different for everyone; quick, fast, or slow, but perfect in its evolution.

Green- lustrous and plush, with thoughts and wisdom, I prepare my mind to nurture that imminent life.

Blue- A peaceful calm, a patience born of love; cool and serene I stand still as my future aligns as it should, without me being in control, releasing the outcome to something infinitely greater than myself.

Indigo- I feel a mixture of peace and a spiritual knowledge. I find my maternal ability within myself, even before the child exists. I nurture this gift within.

Violet- Here is my sense of power, strong enough to have battled the storms, but soft enough to know the storms are only a lesson. You wear them brilliantly like a piece of handcrafted jewelry. You find your pride in giving. You discover that giving is only the door opening in order to receive the truest gifts of love.

Yellow- This is the exuberant day of happiness and joy, the fulfillment of a lifetime. Though I have never had a child, my heart opens to share the glory of those who have gone before me. It opens my curiosity to explore that connection, the never-ending bond and I am able to reflect…

I have never had a child. I have never felt the merging of life. That moment when your physical body lends itself to the creation and formation of another living being, living soul.

I have never had a child, so I ask those who have gone before me to explain. Tell me of this unexplainable torture; try to verbalize how the electric jolt of each contraction moves you to the very core of your being. Tell me how time stops and then elongates into a torturous pulse that makes you question every decision you have made until this moment.

Tell me of the journey. The little quivers in your body’s center that lets you know it has now taken on the role of Mother Nature; it supports and nurtures and opens itself to the signals of what another life form needs. Tell me of the bond, of the movement that flips and turns as if you carry the ocean in the center of your womb.

Tell me of the sickness, the queasy rejection of everything you used to love. Smells, textures, scents, all reform themselves into something that makes you rethink what you could have ever loved about them before this moment.

Tell me of the pain of walking, sitting, relaxing, sleeping, or standing. How can your feet swell so large, your ankles function when they carry a pool of water and you feel as though you have to struggle for every breath?

Tell me how you manage to carry your own body from one place to the other, and demand that your back muscles pull against the gravity of the weight extended before you in order to remain upright.

Tell me of your emotions swinging like a pendulum between joy…, pain…, agony…, excitement…, and gratitude.

Tell me of the moment you feel the warning signs. The little tremors letting you know of the earthquake to come.

I have asked for descriptions of those of you who have gone before me and have heard of pain that was never felt before. I have heard of bolts of lightning that runs through the body as though you are being ripped in two. I have heard of labor that last hours and even days.

I have been told of agony so shattering that letters cannot form syllables to express. So how do you get a sense of the indescribable, if these descriptions can never fulfill the meaning behind the experience?

The mutual experience is different for every woman, but so similar that just the word ‘mother’ makes another mother shake their head in understanding.

I have never had a child, but the memory of my foremothers help me to understand.

Your child merges with your life. Your life supports their life and their life reaffirms yours. This is the one being outside of God for the duration of nine months that you can truly say was with you every minute, every hour, and every second of the day. You share emotions and feelings and food, and you teach each other even in times of rest, what they like, what you like. You influence each other’s dreams.

Then the release comes, the tidal wave that signals the beginning of independence. The very core of your being prepares you to weather the pain of separation. You push, the child struggles. The child struggles as you are told not to push. The pain reverberates until your body cannot comprehend the rupture of one life form breaking free of another. The core of every vulnerability is open for this attack, and words, nor screams, nor expressive language can relay the loss, the war, the struggle as your child vacates their first home.

Your body stretches to become an open door for the child to walk through, and it sometimes rips the very material that makes the foundation of the doorway. Tears bathe your face as one pain politely bows to the replacement of another. How can you survive this?

Then the sun comes, that first acknowledgement from your child as they bask in the love that helped you both endure. That one separation made way for an everlasting bond. It was worth it. You never want to do it again, but you would- without regret, just to see each tiny finger, each smile of adoration.

I have never had a child, so how can I speak of it? How do I place a description on the indescribable? I have asked myself many times as I try to prepare for this possible journey. The answer is simple and complex all at once. It is the love that is built within me, the spirit of the love of generations of women before me; the experience is fixed into the life that flows through my body. It is reminiscent of a rainbow of knowledge and I can feel the sacrifice and the joy all at once. It reads across my memory like the greatest story ever told.

I know the pain, because it has already been felt, my woman’s soul holds the root of this secret to giving life…

Here, is my brilliancy of the golden sun…though I have never had a child.

Written by: Yolanda Olivia Anderson