I Didn’t Choose Not To Be A Mother (What If You Didn’t Get What You Wanted?)

I didn’t choose to not be a mother. Well, in a way I suppose I did. I chose to not be a single mother. I chose to wait for true love before I chose to try to get pregnant. I dreamt of a little girl named London. Yet now, my window has passed and I didn’t get to have a child of my own. Which means that I won’t have milestones and family around in the same way that others do.

Life is real. Sometimes the milk has spilled, and you can’t put it back in the bottle. So, cry about it, if you want to, and then move on, because it’s time to.

I have a dear friend who is in her early fifties and she’s never been married, not yet anyway. And while she absolutely believes that she will be married one day—because she wants to spend her life with a committed companion, and marriage is something that she desires—at the same time she knows that there are life moments that she can’t get back. She shared with me, “I can never go back and get married young, like other people. It’s too late for that.” Now both of her parents have passed away and she won’t have them physically at her wedding. And she, too, will not have children of her own.

So what if it’s too late for you to get what you wanted? What if a great loss or circumstance or tragedy or just time has taken away your options?

I believe that I’ve been a mother, perhaps hundreds of times, in my previous lives. Or a father for that matter. And I’m sure I will be a parent again, in another lifetime that is. Shortly before she passed away, I had a reading from renowned psychic medium, Elizabeth Barron, who told me, “Your life’s purpose is not about those things. Your life’s purpose is to write and to share your knowledge and your presence with others.” Because I truly believe this, it gives me some comfort. (Maybe in my last lifetime I was a mother to 14 kids, and when reviewing my life, I said, “That’s enough already! May I please have my next lifetime be about something else, pleeease?”)

It also gives me comfort to think of parents who sincerely wanted to be a parent and were able to fulfill that dream. Even though it is not my experience; I’m happy that it’s someone else’s experience. I can see it that way because I believe that we are all connected. I want for others to live in deep happiness, just as I want for myself. I want others to be successful, healthy, and abundant in all ways. I’ve learned to be very happy for the joy that others experience.

Get this—when you truly believe that we are all connected, eventually that energy circles back to you: What you want, wants you.

Nowadays, I think of it this way—maybe my London is a piece of writing that encourages many, or a work of art, or some other creation bearing her name.

For many years I have saved a fortune cookie message that reads: “We are here to create not merely survive.”

It’s always what you didn’t create that you regret the deepest.

Cast off the smallness of focusing on what you didn’t get. Free yourself of it. Instead, get in the energy of what you can create now.

What’s your London?


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