Member-only story
A Letter to My Daughter
And anyone else who cares about women and choice.
Early in my early adulthood, I made a choice not to proceed with a pregnancy that would have severely diminished my spirit. Regret never entered into the picture, then or now. Instinctively, I knew it would not have ended well for me or the young man in my life at that time. Living in a judgemental midwestern small town, I was ill-equipped mentally and physically to deal with the stares, the disappointment, and the financial responsibility.
Continuing my nonconformist ways, I deliberately decided not to have children at the beginning of my marriage. It would have been impractical as we struggled financially while completing our education and moved several times across the country during those first years. I wanted things for my life that would not have been attainable with children in tow, and I was not concerned with my biological clock ticking away as I entered my 30s. This cultural ruse guilts women into staying home to raise children and keep a house, only to fade into the background — all part of some archaic patriarchal plan. I would not be duped.
Growing up with three other siblings prompted me to explore a world beyond a crowded family unit. I was never content with the status quo or the unfair and discriminatory expectations hoisted upon the female psyche.
