You know the one—the mom, dad, siblings, a dog, and the house with the white picket fence. Why do we all strive for the same thing, just for it to fall apart? In my case, I lost my mom. Others lose their dad. Some are raised in completely different family structures. Some have no structure at all. Some get the illusion of family through step-parents, but even then—it’s never perfect.
“The feminine urge to adopt a daughter and raise her as a single mom.”
We’re told to do everything right: go to school, work, then get married and start a family. But that’s proving harder and harder every day.
I didn’t grow up with the traditional family unit. My mom died, and my dad remarried. The relationship with my new parent grew tense when I entered my teens. No one really knew how to deal with a child who had lost her mother. So, I was labeled difficult and rebellious—whatever that meant. I never experienced the true love and compassion of a family. The deep belly laughs. The kind words spoken from the heart, not shouted in the heat of an argument.
Still, I believed real family existed. I desperately wanted it. So I told myself: one day, I’ll create my own. Until then, I’ll live this life and try to enjoy it.
Then I learned I couldn’t create the life I wanted, not fully. Not the kind of love I longed to be wrapped in. Not the family I so deeply craved.
My journey into womanhood was a tumultuous one. I often questioned if I was even a woman—sometimes, I still do. At 16 or 17, I was told I would never be able to carry a child. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I just didn’t want my doctor’s appointments to cut into time with friends. But in my twenties, it hit me: I will never be able to create the family I dreamt of. And that realization spiraled me into grief—grief that life isn’t fair. That I don’t have a mom. That I’ll never be a mom. I have so much love and nowhere to put it.
Now, as a woman in my thirties, I grieve who I could have been.
I hate how the world views women; as something to be possessed, not simply being. We’re expected to conform: get married, have babies, be the nurturer. But how do I conform when I can’t do the “babies” part? How do I find my place in this world? And if I can’t, how do I create my own?
I believe this new generation of women is here to break that mold, that cycle. We’re no longer bound to the old ways. We have the tools, the education, the power to build lives beyond what our mothers and grandmothers imagined. We don’t have to chase the traditional life anymore mom, dad, kids, and the house with the white fence. Now, it can be a single mom and her adopted daughter in a cozy 2-bedroom, 2.5-bath condo in LA.
Maybe the life I was meant to live isn’t the one I lost, but the one I’m still brave enough to build.
