Sometimes I post things that so embarrassingly expose the deeper personal parts of myself, so I can look back on this time and see where I was at. I share as an open journal written for anyone who wants to read, It is personal, vulnerable, and provides a deeper insight into who I am outside of the professional scope, if this is something that you don’t wish to read you can stop here.
Dec 14, 2025. So many things have been circulating my head lately. I’ve been feeling a bit disconnected from parts of myself, maybe even majority of the year. The topic of motherhood has come up more in the forefront of my mind. I’m 32. When I was really young I day dreamed about having a bunch of kids, I would always say that I wanted 50 and I just pictured a whole school of kids running around, no care for the logistics of what that would mean for me. I would tell my mom about this goal I had and she would laugh. In high school, I remember starting to day dream about living in the middle of nowhere, just me my future husband and maybe 4-6 kids. I pictured a bunch of untouched land and a clean small lake with a river not too far away, where we could bathe and sustain ourselves. As I grew older, that vision became less, do I want to have kids? I knew I didn’t want to have them with the person I was with at the time, not yet at least I thought, but still the vision became less. One night I had a dream, I had a baby and I didn’t want to see it, I put it in a room and left it, I felt guilty and I went back to find it dead, it didn’t survive and I was mad at myself and I just felt a deep sadness seeing it’s lifeless body. I left that relationship at 27 thinking maybe it was just the situation I was in the reason I didn’t want kids, maybe it would spark again in the future.
The past few years have felt like for the first time in my life I can relax. For the first time I’m not being drained by the weight of the one-sided dependency of those around me. I’m an adult, in a healthy relationship where I am supported and I can rest and be at ease, and not feel like everything’s on me and it feels so good. Part of me just wants rest and live in this space for a while. But I’m 32, and my bio-clock is ticking and I ask myself have I rested enough to start again?
Sometimes I do day dream of having a girl where I could pass along the knowledge from the generations of woman I come from, but it seems like just a distant day dream thats built from an imaginary place that isn’t grounded in the reality of what that really means, to dedicate one’s life to support their children.
There are also so many variables that can come from having a baby as a woman, and so many reasons not to—that lady on tik tok with that long list has about 1,000 and counting. I ask myself am I prepared to face those? I ask myself do I care to face those? I hate the idea of feeling like a stranger in my body, my boobs getting saggy, looking at the mirror and not recognizing myself. My coworker recently told me about a friend of a friend who had a c-section and can no longer swim in the ocean because the muscle to her abs was quite literally cut in half, that terrified me.
I’ve been called selfish by my mom for these thoughts. Followed by “It’s so nice to have kids to see if they look anything like you”. Yes, I’ve read “Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents”. Yes, I’m scared I don’t have the best example of what it means to be a good parent. Yes, I’d love to grow and do better. Yes, I am trying. Yes, I am terrified.
In all these thoughts about motherhood, the prospect of it, what it would mean to care and raise little ones that would then go on to become adults of their own I started to think about little me. It’s a practice I learned about in therapy, you can go back to those moments sometimes happy, sometimes painful, sometimes moments that impacted some part of you and you sit with them, you are an adult now and you have the power to protect her, love her, listen to her, care for her. It’s a way to go back into the memory banks of your mind and spend time with that person you once were.
So I tried this and at first I couldn’t locate her. Like I couldn’t even remember who I was at that point in my life, what had compelled me to want those 50 children or what my happiness hopes and dreams really looked like at that age. Which is surprising to me, I usually make it a point to check in and I didn’t even notice “she” had been missing from my mind for most of the year. It made me feel sad to think about it. This year, I accomplished all the goals I had set out to do, I got a grant, I have an art show for 2026 and I am working a dream job. I’m very proud of that but I think this intense period of focus caused me to neglect this self. So I spent the day thinking about her. I decided to dance. I just needed to release, to move my body in a joyful sensual way and do it alone with myself. I did and I brought her back, and it was a emotional welcome, a blend of emotions changing from each song, one making me feel energized, another making me feel sensual, at one point a song came up that made me happy / sad cry while dancing. Cathartic and needed release. I remembered that little girl, how I liked to perform in front of mirrors with my friends, dance and toss my hair, how my mom would say “se le pego la locera” every time I would start getting into my joyful silly chaotic moods, I remember admiring the older girls and looking up to them, wishing my boobs would grow and learning to dance like them, how even at a young age I was understanding who I was, my womanhood.