I Am 40 Years Old & It’s Not Going to Happen.

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stork in the rain

For years, I had perfectly sound arguments to postpone the decision.

I was too young, too busy with my career, too busy travelling. I was still smoking or I was enjoying an extended sabbatical.

I really wasn’t sure I wanted to anyway.

There were the that years we were working on a boat as diving instructors. And then the years we didn’t have a fixed job nor a fixed place to live, that I chose to spend a few months in India, a few months in Europe, a few months in Egypt followed by a few months in Bali. Not the most practical of times to go for it.

And then we were waiting to emigrate to Australia…

All this while, my answer to the question asked with increasing frequency was: maybe later, when the circumstances are right, but not now.

A few months ago, I started noticing that my response was less resolute, that the maybe started to shift towards the probably. The later was drawing near. We were about to move to Australia, looking at settling down and my 40th birthday was fast approaching. That tic-toc that had never bothered me before, I could now hear loud and clear.

When we finally made it to Australia a couple of month ago, I brought up the topic, knowing it was going to be a tough discussion.

My husband has, after all, has always said he does not want any. I knew this from the day we met, over seven years ago. He considers himself too old to become a daddy. I had never tried to convince him otherwise until that moment. I had—until then—not been sure I wanted to have children myself.

Why fight a battle you may never even need to win?

And very presumptuously, somewhere deep down inside, I believed that—should the day come that I would change my mind—I would be able to convince him too.

So, a few weeks ago, we talked about it seriously. After we talked about it, I cried.

For days.

I still do sometimes.

It turns out that all the times that I said “if I have children,” I actually meant “when I have children.” I found out that all the times that I talked with my friends about the joys and sorrows of raising their children, I was in fact visualizing how I was going to raise my own.

I dreamt of falling asleep together with a little bundle of joy in between us, of buying his first bicycle, of going to her first fencing competition, of harvesting our own grown tomatoes and carrots from the backyard in the weekend.

I had visions of sitting at the dinner table, with a cute little curly-haired muppet who would speak perfect Italian to her dad, fluent Dutch to her mom and flawless English to the both of us.

I could picture how a mini-version of my husband would learn how to operate the pasta-making machine or how a mini-version of me would stomp her feet when she would not get straight A’s at school.

I was sure that my husband would teach me how to be patient with our over-active monster, while I would teach him to not be afraid to confront our pubescent and rebellious daughter.

I imagined family road trips in a camper van across Australia, backpacking through Asia with a toddler, visiting universities in Europe with our soon-to-graduate genius.

I knew I was going to be strict but fair, teach etiquette as well as stimulate free spirit. I also knew they would always going to run to their dad to get what they want, because he would never be able to say no.

I hoped they would love vegetables and home-made smoothies and hate fast food and coca cola. They would have his kindheartedness and my determination. His hair and my skin. His connection to the sea, my passion for adventure.

None of that will happen.

I now mourn for the children I will never have.

Let me be clear. I am not blaming my husband for the—to me sudden and painful—realization that we are not going to have kids. He always said he did not want children and never lead me to believe otherwise.

If anything, it’s my own fault for not dealing with my personal hesitation earlier.

As it turns out, it is now a conscious decision for us to not have children.

It could just as well have been a choice of nature. Perhaps, if I would have tried to get pregnant, I might have be unable to conceive anyway.

Whatever the reason, it is simply not going to happen. Which is why I cry.

I am strangely upset. I am sad that I will never have any offspring of my own, but I am mainly troubled because I am so terribly blue about it.

I am distressed by this unexpected grief.

I sometimes ask myself what I am so upset about. Is it really about not having children? Or is it about not getting what I want?

Either way, it is a very selfish kind of sadness really. It is my very own sorrow. To the unborn child, the problem is implicitly non-existent. For my husband, extending the family has never been the objective.

So I am alone in my regret.

Regret. Do I really regret it?

I am 40 years old and it is not going to happen.

I won’t have to go through sleepless nights, thousands of nappy changes, nipple thrush or post-natal depressions.

We don’t need to start saving for college or university for a child that will turn out to be a drop-out and will choose to elope at the age of 16 with the kid of the biggest criminal in town.

We will be able to go on travels or move house, city, country whenever we want, wherever we want, not caring about school holidays or child friendly destinations. We can go out all night and sleep in, if that’s what we want to do—who needs nannies and babysitters, anyhow?

There is no need for us to live in a neighbourhood with a decent school, nor do we have to push for gymnastics, piano, judo, hockey, chess, dancing or any other sports or hobby that they are not really talented in anyway.

There is no worry about his drug abuse, her unwanted teen pregnancy, none of their choices in life. I will not have to stress about sugarless diets, maximum times on the iPad, homework supervision, inappropriate friend requests on Facebook, make-up at the age of 10 (well, it would be cool if he asked for it), the amount of pocket money, curfews, their first holiday without us or the police knocking on our door holding a very guilty looking kid by his collar.

None of that will happen.

I cry and I mourn, yet every day a little bit less because I know it’s okay.

I have him and he has me. And that is all we need.


Walk the Talk Show with Waylon Lewis—On How to Find Clarity:



I Never Wanted to Be a Mom.

Author: Yaisa Nio

Editor: Renée Picard 

Photo: Pixabay/Robert_



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About Yaisa Nio

Yaisa Nio is an ex-banker, ex-diving instructor, yoga teacher, amateur blogger, columnist at elephant journal, foodie, white wine lover, flexitarian and has been a global nomad for many years. After seven years without a permanent address, she emigrated to Australia where she is now trying to find a compromise between eternal travels and blissful routine. You can find her latest blogs here or follow her random Yoga and other (non)-spiritual contemplations on the page Yoga Here & There.


43 Responses to “I Am 40 Years Old & It’s Not Going to Happen.”

  1. RJ says:

    What you have said here mirrors exactly my own statements, thoughts and sentiments. My partner and I ultimately decided to part ways (though there were other disconnections this was the final blow). I had swung from maybe, to most likely…

    funny enough, she and I have been spilt for over a year now and I now find myself at similar age to you and dating another person who doesn’t want children. (You would say lesson not learned?) But the truth is — I know in my heart as much as it hurts if I REALLY, really wanted it that I would make having a child happen even if it meant going it alone.

    So while it is unlikely to happen in the usual form, I am content for now and set on crafting a life that will allow me to be a “Mother” in other ways…

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear RJ, though I would like to say that I'm "sorry" to read about your situation, it is probably not the best response. As you say, you are content for now and you never know what life will bring in the future! One of my friends said: Every choice means that some doors are closing but only for others to open… thanks for reading and sharing your story xxx

  2. Sarah says:

    Thank you for sharing your experience, Yaisa. As a near 37-year-old single/never-married woman, I sense that I am sliding into grieving over the loss of a version of my story that my life likely won’t bring to fruition. It’s the lack of choice (or seeming lack) that breeds shades of anger/grief. Thankfully, there are other versions and visions of my life that are full and nourishing. Thanks again for putting words to this not often discussed slant on relationships/children. Best to you!

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Sarah, you phrase it in a beautiful way… I am glad my story resonated with you and I hope that whatever turn your life takes, it will bring you love and happiness. Love xxx

  3. whatiwastryingtosaywas says:

    Lovely article. And I'll look it up again if I hit forty and nothing has changed. Our story is different, we lost our baby at four months – I know what I'm missing and I know it's all worth it. And I'm fearfully tick tocking my way into my very, VERY late thirties. It's becoming very clear to me that my body just doesn't want to – maybe I'm still too sad – and I'm terrified. Terrified that it'll happen. Terrified that it won't. Good for you on making your decision. It's a big one.

    • Yaisa says:

      Oh gosh, so sorry to hear about your loss… I can't imagine what it must be like, to have it and then for it to be taken away… I'll have all ten fingers and toes crossed for you that things will work out for you, whichever way it goes. As for me, yes, it was a big decision but it gave tremendous peace of mind… Big hug.

  4. whatiwastryingtosaywas says:

    I only hope to have a tenth of your strength of character should this not go my way. 🙂

  5. Bhagavati says:

    I dare say that this is quite natural at this age. I have felt like this too, although I dreamed a lot less about scenes with a child. It lasted a few years, and now I am fine again. It's when the clock strikes and you know: so. That's it now. It's similar to losing a loved one to death: in almost the same way final and irrevocable. But you will find, if you want to, that there are so many other ways to live motherhood. Whether as "professional aunty", like me, or otherwise. It doesn't even have to be work with children or youth. Anything that contributes to people, to the community, can become your baby. And the world needs mothers of this kind just as much.

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Bhagavati, comforting thought, thank you so much! And yes, it's like mourning in a way… you get over it and continue your life in whatever way makes you happiest! Thanks again xxx

  6. EH says:

    Dear Yaisa,

    Thankyou for your article. It made me cry, such honesty and openess in what you had written. It was like I was reading about my own life (minus the husband of 7 years). I too have travelled, lived and taught abroad and had an amazing life so far. Yet at the age of 42, I am yearning to have a child and be a mum. I could have been 20 years ago, but it wasn’t to be. When I hit 40 years old I started questioning everything about my life and becoming a mother (something I had never taken seriously or thought too much about before). I wonder if it’s something to do with my biological clock ticking loud and clearly in my ear. I’m not sure. But turning 40 was a massive milestone. I would love to meet someone special and have a family, but I feel time is slipping away. But I also don’t want to appear desperate either!

    Thanks again for your article, I can relate very much to your grief and longing and hope you find peace soon xx

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear EH, I try to find comfort in the thought that my life has been fantastic without children until now and that I should be able to enjoy life just as much in the years to come without them in the years to come… I do believe that ultimately, happiness is a choice, I'm sure you feel the same after all your travels and adventures! Thanks for sharing. Sending you love xxx

  7. Fenella says:

    At 35 I was “eternally” single and following my life plan to retire at 44, adopt 2 babies from a third world country and raise them happily as a single mum. Then I met a man who said he wouldn’t mind adopting, and I married him. He immediately changed his mind about adopting and the only way I would have kids was naturally (he’d never wanted kids ever). So we got pregnant and I had huge complications, our daughter was born very very dangerously early. She’s three now and fine. We as a couple are struggling; he doesn’t enjoy kids at all but I am loving it. We had an exciting child free life and now we are tied to bedtime routine etc. managing his happiness as well as our daughter’s is so hard. It would be much easier emotionally as the single parent I always aspired to be. I will regret to my grave not adopting. My daughter is the best thing ever and I wouldn’t change her for anything. But regrets? Yes, plenty…

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Fenella, how remarkable the way you say it: You wouldn't change her for anything, but still, plenty of regrets. For me it seems to be the exact opposite. No regrets, yet I wouldn't mind if it had gone differently… Our choices led us to different sides of the spectrum yet we are both struggling. I wish you and your family much strength, love and happiness. x

  8. Elisabeth Grace says:

    I was touched by your honesty and openness, thank you for sharing. I want to share a bit of my story. I did have a child, he is now 18. When he was less than a year old, I was diagnosed with a heart condition and by the time he was three, I was struggling so much with my heart health that I was told not to have any more children. To complicate matters, by then we knew my son was developmentally different (he has since been diagnosed with autism and a mood disorder) and I suspected my husband had bipolar disorder (he was diagnosed later). My cardiologist warned that having another pregnancy would be “opening the gates of hell.” And given the strains on our family, I did not want to adopt. The decision to stay with one happened 15 years ago and I can say now that I am grateful. It was all divinely perfect: I had the time, energy and resources to heal my heart (literally and figuratively) and be there to support my son. Now I am divorced, an empty nester and thrilled to only be responsible for myself and my goldfish.

    To grieve the event that did not happen, to grieve the children we did not have is complex and slow to heal. Very slow. The desire to have children defies logic as it comes from deep in our consciousness and deep in our DNA. Though you may be partly grieving because you did not get what you wanted, I think the grief about not having children is real, very real. If I could send a box of tissues to Australia I would. Rock on, rock your grief. Your honesty, awareness and self-reflection will see you through. And who knows! Strange things happen. My goldfish is proof, he’s all I need.

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Elisabeth, I did get your box of tissues and it was of great help. Thank you for sharing, it's beautiful to read how you seem to have found peace and happiness after dealing with all the challenges life has thrown at you. Your words are very comforting. As soon as the hustle and bustle of finding a new home, job, routine, etc… settles down, I might have to consider a goldfish too. 🙂

  9. Margot says:

    I appreciate someone addressing this issue which doesn’t get the right amount of attention…

    I personally always said if it happens then it happens , whether adopting or artificial or any other type of way , but i knew i’m already behind in time if i wanted it naturally… don’t get me wrong i’m 31 so technically i still could , however i had some life struggles that kept me from where i want to be career wise or having a partner of a longtime, i always pictured myself of devoting my time to helping out others and and building a school or a hospital in a community and in a country where it was much needed , i always saw that as a ultimate goal in my life , and if i would not be able to achieve that then my goals have just gone down the drain.. and if you’re someone who has a certain set of goals set in your mind for a long time you can’t just easily get rid of them…

    And so , yes , many people around me are having babies , and i wish nothing but joy and am very happy for them , but i guess i am lucky to live in this brooklyn neighborhood where the alternative choices are not completely looked down upon…

    So i go on with my journey and maybe i will or i won’t have one of my own or an adopted one , but i know i must fulfill my mission as random as it sounds which is not just fulfilling my imediate needs but rather a vision thar has been stuck with me for years.

    Alternative ways to the so called normal lifestyles should be encouraged as someone else’s reality.


    Much love,


    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Margot, I was often told that having children does not prevent you from realising other goals in life and perhaps that's true, I'm sure many people manage to do so. But I, like you, chose to postpone and that is why I am where I am now. But everyone's journey is different and I hope that yours will bring you exactly where you want to be, with or without kids! Hugs xxx

  10. Margot says:

    I appreciate someone addressing this issue which doesn’t get the right amount of attention…
    I personally always said if it happens then it happens , whether adopting or artificial or any other type of way , but i knew i’m already behind in time if i wanted it naturally… don’t get me wrong i’m 31 so technically i still could , however i had some life struggles that kept me from where i want to be career wise or having a partner of a longtime, i always pictured myself of devoting my time to helping out others and and building a school or a hospital in a community and in a country where it was much needed , i always saw that as a ultimate goal in my life , and if i would not be able to achieve that then my goals have just gone down the drain.. and if you’re someone who has a certain set of goals set in your mind for a long time you can’t just easily get rid of them…
    And so , yes , many people around me are having babies , and i wish nothing but joy and am very happy for them , but i guess i am lucky to live in this brooklyn neighborhood where the alternative choices are not completely looked down upon…
    So i go on with my journey and maybe i will or i won’t have one of my own or an adopted one , but i know i must fulfill my mission as random as it sounds which is not just fulfilling my imediate needs but rather a vision thar has been stuck with me for years.
    Alternative ways to the so called normal lifestyles should be encouraged as someone else’s reality.
    Much love,

  11. Christine says:

    Though it sounds like you are with a partner who doesn't want children- if you really really wanted a family either 1. He would love you in a way where he would see how much having a family means to you or 2. You truly do not want children and using your husband as an excuse. I know plenty of women who either left their marriage and found someone to start a family with or the love you have is so deep with your husband he can see your pain and would truly start a family with you. I feel you need to own your decision. No one is stopping you but you.

    • Barbara says:

      Christine, I totally agree with you! When I was 40 my boyfriend at that time didn't want children (yet). He kept saying "not yet". We split up because of this. Now I still haven't found the right man to have children with but I'm considering other options…
      Yaisa, if I were you, I wouldn't give up having children if that was biggest desire… You still have the choice to become a mom – with someone else or alone…

      • Yaisa says:

        Dear Christine and Barbara, I think that going through this process I have discovered that having children is not my biggest desire in life. I totally agree with you that if it would be, I should do something about it. One of the other readers, Bebe, left a comment below that really resonated with me: my desire to have a child stemmed from being with my husband. My desire was to have a baby with him, a family with him. Taking my husband out of the equation would make that whole image disappear. I stand by my decision 100% and although that doesn't mean that I still occasionally feel sad about the idea that it is now a definite "no", I have no doubt that he loves me as much as I love him and that is the greatest of comforts.

  12. Liz says:

    Christine, wouldn't it be wonderful if life was that simple? Any statement that begins with "I know plenty of women…" means you don't know all of them and you clearly do not understand.

  13. Meg says:

    I was married to a man who said he didn’t want kids and at the time I didn’t want them either! But when I turned 36 I realised having a child was what I really wanted. My husband and I, separated it was painful because we still lived eachother very much but in the end that wasn’t enough! The baby would always be there between us, a wall of sadness. I went travelling met a man and at 40 had our son! His father and I are not together anymore but still very close! Being a mum is the BEST thing I ever did, even if it’s just me and him! Reading some of the other comments here I have to just say if you are in your late 30’s early 40’s waiting for mr right to come to start a family, don’t! You need to decide what you want more a child or a husband! If you wait for both it might not happen. I have seen so many of my friends miss out on having babies because they were so fixated on having to have mr right first! And they haven’t ended up with either!

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Meg, I am truly happy that you chose that path and that it turned out the way it did for you. As I answered to Christine and Barbara above, having a child was not my end objective. It was having a baby with my husband. Not alone, not with someone else. We all have our own journeys to travel and from the enthousiasm in your post, I can tell that you chose what is right for you! Time will tell if my choice is right for me, at this point I'm confident it is!

  14. Jen says:

    Thank you for every word of this.

  15. Bebe says:

    Thank you so much – like others have said, we need more of these conversations. I just turned 40 myself. I have always been on the fence about kids. I am very nurturing but had so many medical obstacles and psychological issues to work through – and I never felt the sharp longing I heard other women talk about. I figured I had too many challenges to plow ahead to motherhood until and unless I too one day felt that deep desire. Then 3 days before turning 39 I met a man whose partnership made me start feeling that desire. But he is 44 and already has two kids, 12 and 9. He is terrified having a baby would devastate our relationship because this has been his experience, even though what he and I have is much deeper than his prior relationships. I have always put more stock in finding a life partner than having a family. Friends say it's not too late to leave him and find someone who wants kids. But my god the whole reason I finally feel the desire is because of the beauty of the bond I have with this particular man. I would not give him / us up for anything. Yet I have been through boxes of Kleenex, my partner at my side nearly whimpering as he witnesses my deep grief and mourning. Some part of me hopes it somehow works out anyway (but when? I'm already months into 40!) and another part thinks I can put all that nurturing into other things – my work as a teacher, maybe being a stepmom to my partner's wonderful kids. Will it be enough? I do not know. But I know there are no guarantees. After all my medical problems (including 14 surgeries, trauma, PTSD, chronic pain) I may not be able to get off meds and conceive, make it through without serious post partum depression, run around after a toddler, find all the energy and strength I'd need to get through sleep deprivation and unrelenting demands…

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Bebe, thank you for putting it as you did, you hit the nail on the head with this one sentence: "the whole reason I finally feel the desire is because of the beauty of the bond I have with this particular man." I wish you all the best in finding the strength you need to follow the right path for you, which I think you have already chosen, despite the fact that it may feel terribly wrong… The moment I chose and accepted my decision, it unloaded a big burden of my shoulders. I hope it works the same for you. Much love xxx

  16. Angelsirius says:

    Hello All.

    i have enjoyed this read very heartfelt. In my youth i was scared of children i used to say i would never have them…. then at the age of 21 yes still young going through some emotional turmoil i wanted someone to love selfish i know so i had my son. to me he was the best thing ever to have happened. I split form his dad and raise him alone. Eventually i was in another relationship after 10 yrs i had my daughter again a split was required so i have tow kids single mum. Not much money one has completed his University looking for work the other about to start secondary school. Doors closed as in career in personal selfish stuff that many have. But through all the up and down it has been wonderful. At first i was angry why i was a single mum then i had to accept the universe had plans for me lessons to be learnt in my situation. IN yours you had much to offer the world and many people you have met it was not your path in this round. Feel the lost but know that in the next life plan you may have many more.

  17. nyleen says:

    I’m 42, just married the love of my life earlier this year, and it’s not going to happen. Thank you for this. Thank you for letting me grieve alongside you, if just for a moment. Light and love to you!

  18. AJ says:

    Wow…I just happened to pass by this article on facebook and it just stopped me in my tracks. This is something I think a about everyday. It haunts me actually. I’m 39, never been married and seem to not be too successful in dating. Family, friends and even strangers think I’m wonderful balls of of fun and love. But I can’t seem to find my other half. It’s so disappointing and I do feel that my time is running out…I have so much love to give to a child and just to feel love growing inside would be one of my greatest joys. But it seems like a nothing but a dream or fantasy. Always wonder if this is a punishment…no partner and no children and 39…never in my wildest nightmares did I ever think this would be my position at this point in life. Gotta figure out away to be ok with whatever happens or doesn’t happen….thanks for sharing your story. 🙂

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear AJ, I guess that expectations are the dangerous part of the whole situation… Ten years ago, I never imagined that I would be in this position either, but that includes where I'm living, who I'm with and what I am doing. The only thing I struggle with, it the childlessness and I think that that is because I expected to have one/some, I love the rest of my life totally and completely… Perhaps our lesson lies in learning to not expect anything and just live and enjoy the best we can? I'm sure you will figure out how to be ok, I am sure you ARE all fun and love! xxx

  19. Jen says:

    Please consider being a mentor, help out a single Mom, or a family with many kids. Big Sisters is an incredible foundation, and my friend was a big sister to a little girl who just now graduated college. The relationship she has developed is so incredible. There are periods of time when every kid needs space from their parents, but still need a role model. You have such gifts to offer. And yes, you can still catch a shower and a good night's sleep. I know it is not the same, but you could change a life, many lives, YOUR life with this sort of love. Best wishes! Turning 40 makes us think about SO many things in life. Great article!

  20. Beth says:

    Yaisa, I’m sending you a virtual hug. Can you feel it? I faced a similar situation. At 30, I married a wonderful, older man who had never had children and didn’t want them. At the time, that’s what I thought I wanted, too, but a few years later, I changed my mind. For us, marital counseling to help each of us better express our feelings and understand each other was the right answer. We agreed to try, but no interventions. Going through that together drew us closer though it was difficult. After a few years, I slowly came to accept that, as a couple at least, we were infertile. It still makes me sad sometimes, even though it’s been a few years since I let go of the idea of being a mother. It comes up in the strangest ways sometimes, the comments from newer, younger friends who assume we’re childless by choice and make thoughtless comments that sting a little. I love my life and have children in my life who I love. But there’s still the occasional pang that there will never be a child who is a little piece of me and a little piece of my husband. On the other hand, I would be in a different place in my journey if I had a child to care for. And I’m very happy with where I am now. Wishing you peace on your journey.

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Beth, thank you, I feel the hug and I feel for you. I think it may have been even more difficult for you than for us, as I won't have to deal with the possible disappointment of trying and not succeeding, but the result is the same and I will probably go through the same process as you have and still are… It's comforting to hear you are happy with the path you are on, I'm heading the same way. Big hug back and thanks again x

  21. Ben says:

    40 is still very young, I would not even worry because you are still young enough and pretty enough at that age to compete with twenty somethings. Thirty and forty are not like late fifties, who cares as long as you look good, have no ruined your looks by popping out loads of kids and are not late fifties, enjoy life and look attractive. Still very young.

  22. Isa says:

    Traveling will never make up for it. Don't give up only because he does not want the same as you.

    • Yaisa says:

      Dear Isa, thank you for your support. We are okay. I am okay. The decision was hard because I decided it was to be a final decision. I had postponed it for years already and apparently for all the right reasons. It was hard because I have been spoiled in life and have always managed to get everything I wished for, even when it wasn't necessarily what I really wanted or needed. But having a child is, from my perspective, not only about me. It involves three lives, at the very least. Now that I look back, I know we have taken the right decision, no matter how emotional it was at the time. Thanks again x

  23. Ella Birt says:

    I have been feeling exactly this same way at 38, with a husband who has never wanted children also. It’s so conflicting – the mourning of what will never be, and the celebration of our forever freedom. I will always be a mother though, caring for so many women younger than I am – sharing my journey and assuring them that they are exactly where they need to be. I could always get a silicone baby, or just continue to watch Youtube videos of epic diaper explosions and babies laughing at paper crumbling. All of my mourning is put into perspective when I sit back in silence this evening, sipping my glass of wine, reading a book and thinking about my next vacation. 🙂

    Sending lots of love your way sister, and to all my sisters!

  24. Suzanne says:

    Dear Yaisa,
    This post has had 479 shares and 52,308 views. Please do not say you will never have children. They may not be as your friends have, small and helpless, with the DNA of you and your husband. But we are here, we have your words, and shared in your wisdom. We are your children.
    Love always,
    Your 50 year old “daughter”.

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