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| January 4, 2017 Basic masses integration (BMI) with the farming community of Brgy. Calsadahay, Tanauan, Leyte |
While I still retain these characteristics, dreams and plans don't quite stay the same the older you get.
I'm not as consistent as I'd like to be as far as relationships with other people are concerned. But one thing I know I've always wanted is children. (Not now, of course. But at some point.)
By the time I was 12, I decided that I loved my then-6-year-old cousin so much that I wanted children of my own. A child I could care for and protect and love to the best of my being.
When I was 15, I decided that, if my first child was going to be a girl, she was going to be named Andromeda so that her nickname would be Andi (based on Diandra Xenia "Andi" Alpers from Jennifer Donnelly's Revolution). This was maintained for a long while. Almost all my friends knew this. Andromeda, though non-existent, became the symbol for my motherly aspirations.
In 2015, I found out that, because of the lupus, it would be hard for me to give birth if I wanted to in the future. It wouldn't be 100% safe.
And it could even cost me my life.
That took a while to sink in. I think there is always that fear at the back of every girl's head that giving birth is scary, not to mention extremely painful. But I was willing to go through all that if it meant I could have children of my own.
So when I was told it would be too risky, it fell heavy on me. This was something I was always so set about, something I knew I really wanted regardless of the consequences. And when I was told it couldn't be, it felt a lot like a rug being pulled out from under me.
Even then, I was still hopeful somehow, if the List of Names for Future Children I kept in my phone was any indicator. Another girl would be Valerie June (from June Carter-Cash, because I am a low-key Johnny Cash fan) and the first boy would be David Emile (from David Emile Durkheim, but for no particular reason; it just sounds good). I updated the list at some point, though. I renamed it.
After more thought on it, I did understand the risk. I have lower pain tolerance compared to most people I know. I imagine childbirth to be something I'd be physically unable to do. There was also the consideration for the upbringing of the child.
The more I thought about it, and the more I dived deeper into my Personality class, the more it felt inevitable that I'd become an abusive parent at some point.
It hurts to think that this would be one of the foremost legacies of my parents, of most Filipino parents who don't realize the abuse, and it hurts more that it is all the more difficult to rectify this. It is already bordering wishful thinking to believe that this generation, my generation, could be the game changer.
"Why do you want children?" I don't know either. But I figured that if other children that aren't my own could make me so happy, what more could my own do? I've really considered it all: the caretaking, the diaper changes, the feeding, the eventual distance as they grow into adolescence. The inevitable reunion. The connection only felt with family.
Maybe, in a way, the want to have children stemmed from the need to rectify my parents' shortcomings.
I know, I am only turning 19 this year. It is too early to think about this. I don't even have a significant other. There's no certainty even with marriage. I am still recovering from the trauma of my previous relationship. There is still fear. There is still the anxiety that comes with it all.
But I am someone so organized that I plan ahead. I always plan ahead.
With that, I also crush my own dreams before anyone else could. I let go of plans that I've been set about before life decides to reject it for me.
This is a goodbye to the children I could never have.
Always,
Claire
[on medium.com]
