I haven’t donned a bathing suit in public since I was 13. The summer after, I experienced a sudden growth spurt—five inches in just four months—and my body changed from a size zero to a size six. This transformation made me acutely aware of my shape, especially when I looked in the mirror. From my waist down, I felt like I had developed a figure reminiscent of the golden arches, and it left me feeling confused about my identity.
No one had ever discussed the reality that becoming a woman often means developing curves, particularly hips that seemed to rival the width of Texas. Growing up with four older brothers in a male-dominated environment, the concept of womanhood was rarely mentioned. Eventually, someone told me that I was endowed with “birthing hips,” as if my worth as a woman was tied to my potential to bear children.
My mother often expressed her disapproval of working mothers, viewing daycare programs as a threat to traditional family values. It was ingrained in me that I would grow up, marry, and have children—there was no room for dreams of a career or travel, which we labeled as the pursuits of “selfish” women. I often felt pity for those who chose a different path.
As I matured, I came to understand that womanhood is not confined to a singular experience or a rite of passage. Now at 28, I’ve never been pregnant, yet I wholeheartedly identify as a woman. If someone inquires about my children, I proudly recount the 17 countries I’ve explored with nothing but a backpack. I don’t believe that my femininity hinges on having a man’s child. However, my family might have a different perspective. For instance, my sister-in-law frequently sends me articles highlighting the risks of waiting too long to conceive, as if a child with Down syndrome would be a consequence of my delayed motherhood. On my 25th birthday, she even shared statistics about my dwindling egg supply, reminiscent of burnt quinoa stuck at the bottom of a pan.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy children—I’m actually the Best Aunt Ever. I hope to have kids one day, just not right now. My boyfriend and I have a light-hearted agreement: for every year past 32 that I don’t have a human baby, I get a baby animal. I have my eyes set on a kitten or perhaps even a baby goat.
When the time comes for me to become a mother, especially if I have a daughter, I will not pass on a narrow view of femininity. Being a woman is a multifaceted experience—whether you’re pregnant, parenting, trying, or have chosen not to have children. There’s no hierarchy that places one experience above another.
Watching my nieces, with their spirited and clever natures, reminds me that we are born with an innate understanding of our potential, but societal limitations often stifle this awareness. I wouldn’t trade my journey for anything, but if I could go back and advise my 13-year-old self about true womanhood, I would share insights similar to those I hope to impart to my nieces and potentially my daughters one day.
In conclusion, the essence of womanhood is not determined by any singular event or societal expectation. Each woman’s journey is unique and should be celebrated, regardless of her choices regarding family and career. For those seeking more information on pregnancy or home insemination, resources such as Mount Sinai’s Infertility Resources can be invaluable. Additionally, for those considering at-home options, exploring the Cryobaby At-Home Insemination Kit could be a worthwhile step. If you have a partner, you might also want to check out fertility boosters for men to enhance your journey.
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