Unhand my Uterus!

“When are you going to have a baby?”
“Well, what are you waiting on?”
“How old are you? You’re not getting any younger!”
“You know your eggs don’t act right after 35.”
“You’re in your 30’s, not your 20’s.”

These are all questions/statements I’ve fielded since the day I came home from my honeymoon. Some people mentioned a baby before I even walked down the aisle. At first, I just laughed it off. People are always ready for NEXT. No big deal.

But after awhile, it started to make me angry. WHY do people feel the need to bring up my lack of child? Why are people SO INTERESTED in the fact that I don’t have a child? Do people say this kind of stuff to my husband? Are they clocking his age, his sperm count, his ability to produce life?

AND WHY? WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY is it any of your business?! HOW does this affect your life?!

And before some of you get in your feelings, I get that some people are just off-handily mentioning it. They/you mean no harm. They/you are excited (in advance) for us. Please know, I get it. But here’s why it STILL has to stop and you STILL can’t ask some of these questions.

A couple I know have been married for almost a decade. She and her husband have been trying to conceive for the entirety of their marriage. I have been privy to their struggles as a close friend. She (and I’m sure he) have fielded those same annoying (and because of their secret struggles) HEARTBREAKING questions. People didn’t know that behind closed doors, she and her husband were trying (unsuccessfully up to that point) to conceive. Those asking were completely unaware of the Dr. appointments, the failed attempts, and the strain it was causing for them personally and in their marriage.

Can you imagine what it was like for them to hear “What’s taking ya’ll so long?” “Ya’ll have been married long enough.” “What’s the holdup?”

We are not always privy to people’s personal struggles. We don’t know what folks are dealing with. And pregnancy specifically is such a personal decision! Despite what you may think, it is not always easy for people to conceive.


Just because you and your boo pumped pelvises 2 times and conceived, that doesn’t mean it’s that easy for other people.

Just because your pregnancy was 9-10 months of harmony because you prayed and God stopped the nausea, THAT MAY NOT BE EVERYBODY’S TESTIMONY!

Just because you choose to have a natural childbirth, that doesn’t mean someone else’s choice to get ALL the drugs is wrong. AND VISE VERSA!

Just because your child came out and latched on to your breast immediately, for some, that was NOT the case. Stop shaming folks for using formula!

We HAVE to stop glorifying this fallacy that there is only ONE way to do life; your way.

And let me take it step further. Let’s stop doing this with EVERYTHING! All 👏The👏Things👏!

If ONE MORE PERSON says ONE MORE THING to ANY of my friends who are unmarried about why they are still single, I’m going to start blacking eyes & snatching wigs!

As my friend once said when someone asked her last name…

“Why? You know someone who’s trying to change it?!”



If you’ve been blessed in an area, that does NOT make you an automatic expert on the subject. That doesn’t mean it is now YOUR job to tell everybody you encounter how they TOO can get over.

Some folks ain’t trying to get over.
Yeah, sit with that for a minute.

Some people don’t want children. Some people don’t want to be married. Some people don’t want to buy a house. Some people are perfectly content being stay-at-home moms OR DADS. Some people are perfectly fine balancing work & family. Some people are JUST FINE BEING WHOEVER THEY CURRENTLY ARE!

And if they aren’t, (unless you are led of the Holy Spirit or invited; most of you are neither) let God deal with it. He’s big enough. He’s grand enough. He has ALL the information. YOU are on the other hand, don’t.

On a personal note, you REALLY have no idea why I don’t have a child right now. You don’t know if I have been trying to conceive since the honeymoon and have had a miscarriage every month since October 2015. You don’t know if hubby and I don’t want kids. You don’t know if we’re currently trying and just haven’t been successful. Maybe we’re not financially viable enough to have kids! Unless you got $20,000 in starter funds on it…keepmynameout

AND AND….stop assuming there is something wrong with the woman. MAYBE IT’S THE MAN! You asking me about my eggs when it could be his swimmers!


If you’re Peninnah, and Elkanah was able to impregnate you RIGHT away, don’t try to play Hannah cause she’s still barren. Cause real talk, when Hannah finally DID conceive, her baby was one of the greatest prophets of the Old Testament! (Samuel) Her wait was worth it.

And Sarah, if God promised you something and you’ve been waiting so long that you almost don’t want it anymore, please don’t forfeit it to Hagar trying to make it happen on your own. It doesn’t work out well. Trust me. (another blog coming on THIS story). And Hagar, don’t be walking around like a peacock, thinking you’re special. Cause Sarah eventually put your arse out to wander in the desert. I mean, God took care of you cause He’s good like that. But, don’t play yourself!

Eliphaz, Bildad & Zopher…DO NOT step to Job like you know why he’s been afflicted with trouble unless YOU KNOW WHY HE’S BEEN AFFLICTED WITH TROUBLE! You ain’t got the answers SWAY!

And Peter! Oh, precious nosy Peter. Asking Jesus, who’s going to betray him? Always checking for John talking about “Lord what about him?” Jesus was like “Aye, if it’s my will that he remain with me until I come back, how does that concern you? You just keep following me.”


In 2017, let’s all work on being more sensitive & wise in speaking on perceived gaps in other people’s lives. Seriously.
Carrying the weight of other people’s expectations can be dangerously heavy.
And frankly, you wouldn’t want to carry them either because they’re too heavy for you too.

“…and to aspire to live quietly, to attend to your own matters, and to work with your own hands, as we instructed you.” – 1 Thessalonians 4:11 Berean SB


The soundtrack for this blog is provided by Jonathan McReynold’s “Pressure.”



Dear Candace,

I have so much to apologize to you for, I don’t quite know where to start. I’ve not been a good friend to you. I thought I was, but looking back through the years, I haven’t. I committed atrocious crimes against you; thinking I was helping. In anger, I’ve called you names. Sometimes I said I was joking when I called you these names, but I only did it so someone else didn’t say it first. I thought you’d be able to take it better from me. I’ve called you stupid. At first, I don’t think you believed me, but over time I kept saying it to you. I’d say it in different ways so I wouldn’t overtly hurt you, but… I was calling you stupid. I said, “Well, you don’t have your degree.” I let other people say it to you too. But because you started to believe it, I stopped protecting you from it. I let you feel the full weight. I let it oppress you. I allowed you to believe because you didn’t finish school that you lacked intelligence & worth; that you didn’t measure up to others. I don’t think I realized what an anchor I was putting around your neck. It made you stop seeking. You’ve always loved learning but I made you feel too dumb to understand concepts on your own. You stopped reading to learn; you only read to escape. Instead of challenging you on it, I let the lie take root, set up shop and live in the cracks & crevices of your mind. Every time you misspelled a word, it reinforced how dumb you were and I let you believe it. I let you think that you were incapable. What’s really sad is I let it happen with relative ease & secrecy. On the outside, you seemed okay. You tried to intelligently speak on various topics and you even taught workshops to others. But on the inside, you felt worthless. You lived in fear that every day someone would find out the truth~ that you were masquerading as someone smart.

So I slowly started quieting you; after all, I didn’t want anyone to embarrass you in public. I thought I was helping you. There would be small moments of victory for you. Someone we respected would say something nice to you or about you; you could dine on that for weeks. But, alternatively, their silence could kill you. I allowed your esteem to get so low. I let every label that others put on you to define you.

College drop-out. Minister. Best Friend. Daughter. Big Butt Girl. Diva. Christian. Manager. Leader. Youth Pastor. Teacher. Introvert. Wife.

It started to overwhelm you, but I wouldn’t listen. I just told you to keep on…being. No matter that with every label you were struggling more & more with who you actually were. I heard you crying out. I gave you 20 minutes during Sunday Service to get it out of your system. I thought that was enough. I reminded you that there are people who you needed to be there for. There are people with “real” problems. I told you to suck it up. So you tucked those feelings away with the other ones and I locked the box to make sure they didn’t get out. I fixed your lips into a smile, slipped a pair of jeans over your ever expanding body, bought you a new pair of shoes and told you to keep it moving.

Can I just say, I’m really sorry about the whole weight gain thing? You hate working out and you love food (especially when we’re unhappy) so I just let it happen. The worst part were all those names I called you while you stood naked in the mirror. I hated you when I saw you in the mirror. I stopped you from taking pics. I was convinced no one wanted to see your sloppy fat self. I kept buying you new clothes but apparently, you can’t fix what’s broken on the inside with fixes for the outside. You didn’t feel sexy and I convinced you that you weren’t beautiful either. So when you weren’t satisfied sexually, I convinced you it was wholly your fault. “You’re too fat to be confident & sexy.” Making you feel this way just made you eat more. And because I’ve told you your whole life that you lack discipline, I made you believe there was nothing you could do about it. Of course, you felt ugly. I certainly didn’t try to convince you otherwise. When other people asked if you were pregnant or didn’t recognize you because of weight gain, I let you internalize that.

I really haven’t been so good to you. I never let you deal with the ramifications of your sexual abuse. I told you that you were fine and you believed me. You helped others deal with their horrible scenarios, but your own? You tucked it away. I convinced you that you only had minimal effects, but I was wrong. They loomed large and reared their heads more as you got older. It’s starting to erupt within you. I tried to quiet the screaming as I did before. I don’t need you putting your stuff out there, but you won’t be quieted anymore.

You won’t (can’t) stop screaming. It’s LOUD.

I realized that I only ever talk to you about what’s wrong with you. I hardly ever tell you the good. I never speak life to you. I get so angry when other people treat you like crap but well… I do too. Maybe that’s why you let them do it and say it because… I’ve already done it and said it. I don’t even let the good things people say about you to stick. It’s easier to manipulate you if only believe the bad stuff. I’m really sorry about that; controlling you with low self-esteem. It makes it easier to help you be lazy & unproductive.

For awhile, that was okay. It was easy. I’m all about easy. But lately, easy has been severely unsatisfying. The easy life I helped you build, sucks. At one point you had purpose & passion & confidence. I remember who you were before the abuse wrecked your moral compass  & sense of worth. I remember that person who wasn’t cynical; who believed good things (even about herself). Is it too late to get her back? Is it too late to dig up God’s original design for you? I know I told you it was too late to dream again~ to figure out purpose again, but I was wrong. I am so sorry I aided & a bedded in your demise. I really thought I was keeping you safe. When you shouted “I DON’T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!”, I put a bag over your head and suffocated you. It was only because I didn’t want you to get hurt. You couldn’t breathe; I was killing you. I thought I was helping.

Then one day, I couldn’t breathe either. I was gasping for air & I couldn’t gain control.

I realized that what I was doing to you, I was doing to me.

I could no longer control the perception & I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to act like you were free. I wanted you to be free. The best part was the freer you became, the freer I became. I want to love you for the very first time. It takes courage & faith, but the pair is all I’ve got. I don’t even have a lot of it; just a bit. I’ve got a little bit a courage, faith as a mustard seed and a promise to treat you better.

Maybe I can change our lives again.
This time, for the better.

For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
    my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.
-Psalm 139:13-16 ESV

~ C.W.

The soundtrack for this blog is provided by Kirk Franklin’s “Declaration! This is it!”