The inescapable cruel facts are that I will never be able to bear children. If you aren’t born with a uterus, you’ll never have one. I chose not to have children as a male, or to save sperm. It was the right choice. I couldn’t have children like that. A gay transgender woman would have a hard time adopting. Yet I have a biological clock too. My biological clock barely ticks along on a battery nearly dead, running on the limited time I get with friends kids in passing. At this point in my life, even if I could, it might not even be the right choice to have children. What, see them graduate when I’m sixty? My transient lifestyle? No partner to assist? It’s a fact I am okay with, but still one that saddens me.
This image deals with issues of never having a uterus, never being able to make that decision. It secondarily deals with suicidal thoughts. Though never serious, I doubt there is a person who has attempted a transition that has not had their mind at least wander that way. Pain is a constant, you learn to live with it and let it slowly subside with time. But, like the rocks and stones and mountains, it takes the wind and water a long time to wear away their jagged edges.