The Hidden Woman: What I Learned About The Modern Female Dilemma

Written September 2023

Since becoming a married woman, I’ve started to experience a new kind of fear—fear around having a baby.

Truthfully, I don’t fully know how to think about childbearing.

When I talk to my mom about it, she doesn’t quite understand. In her generation, having children was natural—almost second nature. The mindset seemed simple: “We’re married, so we’ll have children.”

Today, the questions sound very different: “Should I even have children?” “Can I afford it?” “What about my freedom?”

It makes me wonder—this shift in thinking… is it normal?

I remember asking my dad a few years ago, “Why would you even consider having children?”

His answer was simple: “Because your parents had children.”

At the time, that answer felt almost too simple—but lately, I’ve started to understand it differently.

Not long ago, I asked my doctor how common fertility issues are. He told me:

“Infertility is on the rise. It’s a real problem.”

That stayed with me. It introduced a deeper layer to my fear—not just whether to have children, but whether I’ll even be able to.

This led me to reflect on my life as a woman.

As a young girl, I was very feminine. I loved pink and purple, dressing up, playing with Barbies, and watching romantic movies.

In my teenage years, I shifted. I became more of a tomboy—competitive, sporty, and less connected to that softer side of myself.

Then came adulthood.

In my early adult years, I felt like I was following a script: Go to school. Build a career. Figure out your future.

For a long time, society pushed women toward early marriage and children. Now, it feels like the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction:

Focus on your career first. You can figure out marriage and children later.

And that influence is powerful.

For me, that message pulled me into my mind—and away from my body.

At 18, I was expected to logically map out my entire life. So I did what many women do: I went to college, explored different jobs, and focused on building something “practical.”

But in doing that, it felt like my body was put on standby.

I began to think of it this way:

Living in my mind was like being in “man mode.” Living in my body was like being in “woman mode.”

Others might call this masculine and feminine energy.

This doesn’t mean women aren’t intelligent—far from it. The body carries its own kind of intelligence. But for a long time, I was disconnected from it.

In my early 20s, I was almost entirely in that “man mode.” In some ways, I even resisted being a woman.

In my mid-20s, something shifted.

My dad introduced me to the work of Jordan Peterson, and that became the beginning of a different perspective.

Through lectures and ideas about responsibility, meaning, and the differences between men and women, I started to develop a deeper appreciation—not just for men, but for the unique roles we each play.

I even found myself writing anonymous letters to tradesmen—people working in construction, plumbing, carpentry—thanking them for doing difficult, often overlooked work.

That experience gave me a new kind of empathy.

It also made me question the modern message of “just worry about children later.”

Because here’s the reality:

A woman’s body is not on the same timeline as her career.

My husband once said something that stuck with me:

“The difference between a man and a woman is the womb.”

It’s a simple statement—but a meaningful one.

This doesn’t mean women can’t do what men do. Of course they can. I can work long hours, compete, lift heavy things, and push myself physically and mentally.

And sometimes, that’s enjoyable.

But the real question is:

Does it come at a cost?

Am I out of balance? Has my personal pendulum swung too far?

There are consequences to every choice we make—whether we acknowledge them or not.

That applies to both men and women.

As women, our bodies give us signals from a young age. Our cycles are a constant reminder: pay attention to me.

So why are so many of us afraid of having children?

I’ve come to believe that fear is often shaped by external influences. Over time, those influences become beliefs—and those beliefs become our daily mindset.

For me, that mindset created a disconnect between my mind and my body.

The good news is—we’re not powerless.

We don’t have to blindly follow societal trends.

Yes, building a career has value. It can create stability, growth, and opportunity.

But at the same time, my body has never cared about my résumé.

So I’ve had to ask myself some difficult questions:

Would my life be fulfilling without children? If I have the ability to have them, would I regret choosing not to?

Some women may not be meant to have children—and that’s part of their path.

But for others, the hesitation may come more from fear than truth.

Are children expensive? Sure.

But there are families who raise children with far less and still create meaningful, loving lives.

When I think about my own childhood memories, I don’t think about cost.

Those moments aren’t for sale.

I’ve come to this conclusion:

Having a child isn’t something you fully rationalize.

It’s something deeper than logic.

Every person you’ve ever met was once a baby—born from a mother and a father.

It’s not just a life choice. It’s part of our nature.

If you’re able to conceive, that ability is a gift.

And even having the choice to decide whether or not to have children—that itself is a privilege of modern society.

But like all privileges, it isn’t guaranteed forever.

Biology doesn’t wait. And fertility isn’t something we can fully control.

This realization has given me a deep sense of gratitude for being a woman.

A womb-an.

And to the men—we can’t do it without you. 😉 * * * "But women will be saved through childbearing - if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety." - 1 Timothy 2:15