Our Unborn Daughters
I’ve contemplated whether having children for a few years now. I have had what I can only assume to be the fucked up, biological, animal-driven desire to have my own children. The one that overrides any logical thought. But the desire is so strong— in my heart especially. I’ve had vivid dreams of giving birth to a daughter and have fantasized about it endlessly. I can almost taste that kind of love that is so different from all the other kinds of love I have known.
But with the climate crisis and the place that I’ve been racing to save before bringing her into this world, I know now it is too late. Since the election, I have been privately mourning the loss of a child I will not have— as dramatic as that might sound. I never thought I could feel this way, and yet here I am. Distraught and confused. I think about it in nights alone in bed, while drinking my morning coffee, or looking out onto the river. I think about how there is an alternate life somewhere out there where I am a mother, and that holds me over in my mind. But here, in this reality, I love my children enough to not bring them here.
And please, don’t get me wrong— I’ve been saddened and angry with everything else going on here that exists and is real… I’ve been physically going out there and doing something about it! But with this, I have to keep private to myself; grieve alone, accept it, and carry on the fight with the threats here and now.
I saw this poem today by To Be Human and thought I’d share it here:
Aurora
I have an unborn daughter,
her name is Aurora
she stays tucked inside my heart,
safe and warm,
where no one can hurt her,
because how could I deliver her
into this world,
a world that wants to consume her,
leave her screaming that her home is on fire,
surrounded by men who want to swallow her whole
with teeth, skin and bones
maybe in another life she will have the chance
to live and be happy,
with a passion for art and poetry.
just like her mommy,
maybe in another life she will run free
with the wolves,
and experience the feeling of soft grass
touching at her feet
but in this, I mourn the loss
of the daughter I never had
From my manifesting future Pinterest board
