For more than two decades, my greatest prayer was to hold a child of my own. I got married young and, like most women, assumed motherhood would come naturally.But year after year passed without a pregnancy. At first, people told me to be patient. Later, the whispers began: “She’s barren.” “That marriage won’t last without children.” The shame cut deeper than any physical pain.
My husband stood by me for years, but the pressure from relatives and the community was unbearable. Eventually, the marriage collapsed. I was left heartbroken, divorced, and convinced that I would never know the joy of motherhood. Doctors had labeled me infertile after multiple failed treatments, and by the time I turned 40.To read more,click here
