People Like You Should Never Have Children

I was shocked beyond belief, when she said that to me.

I was completely confused by it, wondering what I had ever done to deserve such a judgment.

This happened during a conversation about marriage and children. It left me reeling.

My age put me at higher risk, but that wasn't the issue with this person.

This kind of condemnation from my own kin was something I never imagined. Now, I'm left trying to make sense of it all

The same old question again. What I've done, again?

Whether through adoption or pregnancy, it didn't matter.

I yearned to break the cycle of my toxic relationship with my own parents, to shower a child with the love I never received. These were the desires I held close.

The thought of creating new memories and experiences with a child fills me with hope and happiness.

Maybe it's a way to rewrite the narrative of my past, replacing the pain with the joy of nurturing a new life. Building my own family feels like the most meaningful way to turn the page.

After a string of failed relationships, I met my current partner, and we thought it was time for the next stage of our life.

I was making good progress on my mental health, but then some triggers set me back. This means putting things on hold for a while.

We figured it out, my doctor and I, but I couldn't just tell him that his mother and sister are making me sick.

Family dynamics made it a delicate situation. I had to communicate with him about my need to avoid certain situations that negatively impact my mental health without going into the specifics.

Unlike some medical conditions, there's no definitive test that can pinpoint the exact trigger, especially when it's related to interpersonal stress.

As it drags on, the window for biological children narrows with each year. I had some perimenopausal symptoms that remind me - my womb is reaching its expiration date.

Adoption is a viable option for me, but my country's laws require a five-year marriage before applying. There might be exceptions, but I haven't found any yet.

Even if adoption were a possibility, my partner doesn't seem too enthusiastic about it.

It feels like he might be influenced by his more conservative family background, with their 'medieval' traditions.

I can almost see myself in that soap opera drama where the daughter-in-law is kicked out of the house when she can't conceive.

This is a difficult reality to accept. It feels like a personal failure, a path I didn't get to walk.

I find myself quietly grieving, mourning the life I envisioned.

There aren't words for this kind of loss, but the feeling of being robbed of a dream is undeniable.

Now it's even worse with salt rubbed into my wounds by my own kin.

This person who once seemed supportive turned distant and critical.

The implication, in her own words "People like you should never have children."

Like I'm some kind of monster, unfit to have children, that was a cruel and hurtful accusation.

This kind of judgment feels like a social form of sterilization is far more damaging than the impersonal negativity of cancel culture because it comes from someone close to me.

Her hurtful words are stuck on repeat in my head, like a broken record.

Now, a persistent question haunts me: am I truly unfit to be a mother?

It's not something that I can just shake off and move on.

Mother's Day always feels particularly painful. It's a stark reminder of the toxic relationship I have with my own mother.

The knowledge that I may never experience motherhood feels like a double blow to me.

This is difficult for me to talk about it with people around me, but I can't hold it in any longer.

It's a constant weight, a voice whispering negativity that cuts deep. It's killing me inside.

Knowing I shouldn't let them affect me doesn't make it easy.

Putting this all down in words turned on the waterworks, but it's a relief to be able to have it out in the open, even if it hurts.

Mother's Day can be a bittersweet reminder of a different path for me because motherhood isn't something I'll experience in the traditional sense.

To all the amazing mothers out there, I wish you a joyful day filled with love.

Previously published on Medium

©Emika Oka

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