I’ve been reflecting lately on what a life worth living looks like. To expand on that a little further, I’ve been attempting to examine what quality of life means and how it differs from person to person. It’s been no secret that I’ve been on what’s felt like a never ending fertility journey for some time now. As time has gone on and no baby has eventuated, I’ve been forced to face a different set of possibilities for what my life may look like in the years ahead. It’s forced me to question what I envisage for myself and what I value the most in life, instead of focusing on something that continues to evade me.
I was watching something the other day on social media when an influencer challenged the people around her to identify what they would wish for if they were given 3 condition free wishes for what they wanted the most in their lives. When I thought about this further in my own context it made me realise that it had been a long time since I’d looked inward and focused on what I wanted. This being opposed to what was expected of me, or what I saw from others around me. The weird part of all of this, is that I’ve always known that how I see my life entailing is different from the majority. The things that I valued most and aspire for are not the same as others. So I’ve found myself incredibly surprised that in recent years, I’ve attempted to mirror the paths of everyone else, instead of forging my own.
When I think about what I want for my life, when I think about what I will say on my deathbed looking back; I hope for adventure. I imagine myself travelling with my husband on endless journeys around the world. I see myself vehemently fighting for social justice pursuits. I see myself writing, and continuing to write as I age. I hope to publish something of my own one day, maybe a novel, maybe a memoir. When I think about what I would hope others would say about me as potential eulogies, I hope they’d say that I was kind, compassionate and that I fought for what I believed in. I hope they would say that I was brave in forging my own path and that I was happy and content in my own way.
Of course there would be those who would say that I missed out something because I was never a parent. Or that I should regret not having a child, if that path eventuates. But I would argue that everyone has regrets or areas of sadness in their lives where they feel like they’ve missed out on one thing or another. For those who are childless or childfree, maybe they have weak moments where they wonder what if. But I’m certain that some parents out there wonder about the opposite and think about the things they’ve sacrificed or missed out on because they are parents. No one path is right for everyone and the individualistic natures of our personas, of our hearts and souls make us value things differently; and make us want for different things in life.
As I consider all of these things, it reminds me that my life will have purpose whether or not I become someone’s mother. I am reminded that my aspirations in life go beyond my reproductive ability. It’s made me realise that what I yearn for in life, is within my control and I’ll be okay no matter the result of my fertility journey.
I blog for Change. 