Unchosen: A Reflection of “What Ifs”

You would never have complained about the word “Mama” being your least favorite to hear. You could have had so many other lives where that wasn’t your name. You might have become a professional tap dancer, an inspirational author, or a compassionate missionary. Maybe you would have changed the world. 

Instead, you got married in your parents’ backyard. You had flowers in your hair and wore an off-white dress. You stammered “I do” to love for better or for worse. Then you changed your last name. 

You might have had a stage name and danced in front of thousands. You could have worn a glittery costume and smiled to an echoing applause. You would have inspired hundreds of young girls to do what they love, and in your free time, you would have practiced different styles of dance. 

You really spent your free time sleeping because every waking hour, you were trying to sustain another human life. Your hobbies and passions were drowned out by questions and demands from your children. 

“Mama, can you help me with this math problem?”

“Hey, Mama? Can you read to us?”

“Mama, where is Africa?” 

You could have lived in Africa. In a small house in Tanzania, you could have planted yourself near the Indian Ocean. You would have boiled malty Tanzanian tea and listened to people’s stories as you sipped it. You would have been brought to life by the people there, and you would have given life through your charity. 

But you gave birth in a sterilized hospital room in the United States. You brought your babies home to a small house in the busy city of St. Louis. There, you put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner every night and complained about feeling alone. 

You could have had a voice that everyone heard. Your books and stories could have been published and added to the New York Times best-seller list. Your name would have been recognized in print. You could have given power to the black words on bleached paper. 

Your kids soaked up each word you said, even when you thought they weren’t listening. You pulled life lessons out of thin air, deriving them from a scraped knee, a missing toy, a lost friend. You taught them the value and strength of the smallest word. 

But words can’t always earn money; you might have struggled to earn enough of it. You feared financial debt. You were afraid of starting over and afraid of falling. A fog of worries followed you when you worked and when you dreamed. You thought about different endings.

What if you didn’t perform on stage? What if you lost everything? What if you never traveled across the world? What if you were forgotten? What about giving up? What if you gave up on them? What if you never wore that white dress?

You lay in bed. You might have drowned. Instead, a tiny hand slid into yours and called you “Mama.” 

You might have never hugged that precious human being inside your arms. You would have missed the laughter erupting from your son or daughter’s throat. You wouldn’t have been able to hang their drawings on the refrigerator and chase them around the house with delight. All the late nights that seemed endless as you rocked your babies to sleep, and all the peaceful mornings when they snuggled against you at sunrise. Their first birthday and their first kiss; their first heartbreak that you comforted them through and their first dream that you cheered them on in. Every word you taught them. Each moment you fought for them and each struggle you lived through. Every choice you made for them. Every decision you helped them make themselves. And all the memories you made and lessons you taught. Maybe it changed the world.