Because of those times when she was younger when the only response ever provided to her unhappiness was that she should be thankful they were putting a roof over her head and food in her belly.
Because the women in her lineage had spent so long repressing the need to follow their own passions and desires in order to procreate that she had to find out about herself, but also all the things they didn’t know they could have taught her.
Because she had seen two people so out of love for each other waste a decade of their lives, solely for the reason of making the children happy.
Because despite this, the children were not happy because it was glaringly obvious that the parents were only staying together “for the children”.
Because of the expectation that family “does not hold grudges”.
Because despite the clear genetic trauma passing through her family, no one acknowledged that every child born to this line suffered from crippling depression and resentment towards living.
Because more than she was afraid of having kids she was more afraid of being convinced by someone she loves more than anything she needed to have kids.
Because even when she found someone who aligned with her desires, she still couldn’t feel safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t request it from her.
Because of the time she came home complaining about doctors who never took their patients seriously due to their age, but brushed it off as a routine check up when asked why she went.
Because of the referral he found to a clinic she’d never mentioned with the words “tubal ligation” followed by the doctor’s recommendation to wait.
Because maybe she had heard the words “you’ll change your mind when you get older” so often that her heart had formed into a cold stubborn resistance to those very words, or maybe her mind just wouldn’t change.
Because maybe being a woman who didn’t conform to the idea of her role within society was a significant part of finding out who she was.
Because the world still needed to see that the body of those with a uterus didn’t owe a contribution to the greater good, and maybe being on the receiving end of those confused stares and pestering questions until she was old and barren was what she needed to do to make those that followed less subjected to cruelty from being misunderstood.
Because she didn’t know how to love something that felt like a parasite growing in her body, who she suddenly owed her own happiness to, that happiness she had worked so hard to achieve for herself. Suddenly it was not hers anymore, and she had to give that parasite everything.
Because she had been that parasite once upon a time, and her mother made the wrong choice that she felt like she had to make.
Because she grew up not on the receiving end of unconditional love and acceptance and nurturing.
Because the template of love she had experienced did not allow for her to develop the ability to love as she needed to feel capable and sure of bringing something solely her responsibility into a world so deeply troubled already.
Because she was not a mother.
Because she would never be able to align herself with those maternal instincts.
Because she had to write this list of reasons.
Or maybe, just because.
Lana Andrews 