“It’s Not that I Can’t Have Children” is the title of a poem by Kai Coggin that was featured at poets.org recently. It really caught my attention. I think so many of us can identify with it. For copyright reasons, I can’t reproduce the whole thing here, but I encourage you to read it.
The poet speaks of the ways her womb could have been a home for children but never was, and yet she has been a mother in many ways.
I love these lines:
But perhaps that proverbial ship has sailed,
and the life that I have created
is the life I have the life I love.
Perhaps my womb has turned outward somehow
and my heart is fertility itself.
Isn’t that beautiful? “The life I have created is the life I love.” Think about that. Can you treasure the life you have right now, not calling yourself “less” anything but full of all that you are and all that you need?
“My heart is fertility itself.” This can mean that we plant seeds and grow all kinds of things, literal things like flowers and vegetables but also ideas and projects and love. For me, it’s books and music, which the readers and listeners take in and then create something of their own.
We may not have children, but that doesn’t mean we’re idle, that we don’t do anything. The things we make, the things we do, the love we give, wherever we give it—it all counts.
Coggin concludes:
I mother other kingdoms,
rock every other species to sleep--
the green and howl and pulse and bloom.
It's not that I can't have children,
it's that I already do.
Yes. We use our mothering energy in all kinds of ways, whether it’s with pets, partners, parents, friends, students, or through volunteer work. We use it with the flowers we nurture in our gardens and the birds we rescue when they fall. We use it when we clean up litter or fight for clean air and water or assist others with whatever they need, whether it’s a babysitter or help rebuilding after a hurricane.
We mother. And we father.
And it’s okay.
I know not everyone likes poetry, but I find that sometimes a poem can say in a few words what is impossible to express in a whole book. If you’d like to read one of mine, here at the blog in 2017, I posted this poem about being surrounded by grandmothers: “Sunday Brunch with the Grandmas.”
I welcome your thoughts.
Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com
More to Read
“The Son I’ll Never Have” by Mark Wunderlich
I Will Bear This Scar: Poems of Childless Women, edited by Marietta Bratton. Nearly twenty years old but still beautiful.
Nulligravida, poems and essays by Saralyn Caine—just arrived in my mailbox, but it looks goods.
Bearing Life: Women’s Writings on Childlessness, edited by Rochelle Ratner. This book includes poetry and prose about life without children.
Childless by Marriage 
I do feel younger than people my age with children. Much younger. Because I haven’t had the stress of children I do look younger. Not a lot, but enough that when I hit a milestone birthday people mentioned, “wow, I didn’t know it was THAT birthday. You seem younger.”
Sometimes I am so damn tired of all I create. My business is my baby – sort of. I’ve been running it a long time and I’m looking to change things up. Not sure how. You can’t just order a grown child to change and I can’t really snap my fingers at my business and generate success either. Grown and cultivated for 20 some years – I’ve built something. But it’s something that doesn’t have a mind of it’s own or really give back.
Luckily I work on different committees. I contribute in groups. I know people and they know me. There’s my human connection! My calendar fills quickly because I know many people, and have many interests. Eating good food is important and while those meals aren’t works of art – it’s a creation that others don’t always prioritize. My garden is elaborate and always changing. I gather free pavers and build, I plant, I watch. Each year it’s harder to move things or dig holes, but I still do.
I read, a lot, and those books are like friends. And my age is limitless as I travel through the pages of different times. It seemed like yesterday that I was pulling out my summer clothes and hoping they fit. Now I’m gasping because Christmas is coming. I don’t know how these parents keep up.
As the time flies I feel like I stand still. I’ve been mentoring a young woman at church. She’s been through a lot and has a young child. Very little support so I wanted to be a friend. I was shocked to learn that SHE is far older than I thought. I feel young and I just assumed that she was young too. Like a 21 year old just sorting things out. She’s not 21 or even 26, but 36 and I – am old enough to be her mother.
Another gal and I work together on a project. She is in her late 20’s and we connect very well. Her fresh ideas and my seasoned take on things. We meet in the middle and I feel . . . important. Then I remember her three beautiful little ones and I almost laugh at myself for thinking I know more than her. Our creations are not the same.
I feel like I’ve missed a lesson somewhere. And I’m searching and creating on all these levels to try to find something. With age comes wisdom. Even without children. I just have more time on my hands to scratch my head. I am tired but I don’t know any other way of being.
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Your comment is very well written. Thank you for it. I enjoyed reading it.
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