There is a part of life that every woman eventually reaches,
but no two women experience it the same way.

Some women welcome it.
Some fear it.
Some grieve it quietly.

And some of us do not realize how deeply it will affect us until we are standing in the middle of it.

Lately, I have found myself entering a new season of life — one where my womanhood feels like it is beginning to change.

I know this is a natural part of life.
I know it is part of every woman’s journey in some way.

But knowing that does not always make it emotionally easier.

What surprises me most is how many feelings can exist at once.

Part of me feels young again, almost like I am reflecting on the girl I used to be.

But another part of me keeps thinking:
Why did I spend almost forty years carrying something that I have nothing to show for?

I know there are many women who choose not to have children for their own reasons.
And I know every woman carries her own story about motherhood, loss, choice, or change.

For me, the decision was somehow both hard and easy at the same time.

Living with cerebral palsy shaped the way I viewed pregnancy and motherhood.
Deep down, I did not know if my body could physically handle pregnancy or everything motherhood would require from me.

So in many ways, I accepted that reality a long time ago.

But there is still something difficult about realizing that the chapter itself is beginning to close.

Even if motherhood was not the path I chose, it was still a possibility that quietly lived inside me for years.

And now I find myself grieving something I never fully had.

That feeling is hard to explain.

I think many women experience grief during this stage of life, but for women with disabilities, I think it can sometimes carry extra layers.

Because when you spend your life already feeling different from other women in certain ways, changes like this can stir up emotions you did not expect.

It can make you question your identity.
Your body.
Your womanhood.

But I am slowly learning that womanhood was never meant to be defined by only one thing.

Not by pregnancy.
Not by motherhood.
Not by what our bodies can or cannot do.

Womanhood also lives in our compassion.
Our resilience.
Our creativity.
Our softness.
Our strength.
Our ability to love and care deeply for others.

And maybe this new chapter is not about losing my womanhood.

Maybe it is about learning what womanhood means now.

— Marie W.O.W.C.P.
Seeing the beauty between the challenges.