Rubbing Salt into the Wounds Years ago, when I was still trying to hang onto hope, I did everything my OB/GYN suggested. One of those things was to take an injection that was available in a monthly or 90-day dose.  The medication was used to dissolve fibroids. Unfortunately, one of the side effects of this medication was menopausal symptoms. I called it man-made menopause. I had hot flashes, mood swings, depression, and sadness. I believe the depression and sadness was also due to the fact that I was dealing with all of this drama in an effort to buy time while waiting to meet Mr. Right. I had considered IVF and I made two attempts at adoption. But I decided against IVF, for two reasons. It was too expensive and my mom compelled me not to take that avenue. But God was not answering my prayers. The prayers I sent up to him for more than a decade. I begged him to forgive me for whatever sins I had committed.  I asked him to forgive my family for any generational curses that were causing these cursed fibroids. I bargained with him. I begged him for a husband, I begged him for a child. Silence. The silence was deafening. Sometimes I would feel Him impressing upon my heart that everything would be alright. But it was not. I wanted a child. Nothing would ever be alright without a child. I never met Mr. Right, I never had the baby, and I ended up having to have a hysterectomy. Silence. Now I am going through natural menopause. It is nowhere near as bad as the man-made menopause. I am not depressed and I am not having mood swings, but the incessant flushing is almost impossible to bear. It feels like salt is being rubbed into the wound. The wound of everything I have had to endure. How many people do you know who have gone through menopause twice? They say God will not give us any more than we can bear, but honestly, I believe that is just a saying. I am not whining, because many people around the world, children and adults alike, are enduring unbelievable grief and sadness. As a fellow human being, I think about people around the world on a regular basis. I think about childless women, I think about abandoned and enslaved children, and I wonder what I can do to make things better for others. The fact is, although my heart is broken, it is healing. But nothing that breaks will ever be the same again, whether we are talking about broken china, a broken leg, or a broken heart. They will never be completely brand new. But they will be functional. And the level of functionality depends on use. We can walk on a leg that was broken after it is healed. We can use broken china after it is glued. We can function with a broken heart. But it is up to us. We have to choose to function with the broken heart. There is a lot to be done in this world. And I believe we can do our part broken and healed.       Hello everyone! Welcome back to Childless not by Choice, where my mission is to recognize and speak to the broken hearts of childless not by choice women, and men, around the world.  Civilla Morgan here! I am spreading the great news that we can live a joyful, relevant, and fulfilled life, although we could not, did not, have the children we so wanted.   Patreon Contributors: (Patreon contributors are those who have taken an interest in my platform whether they fit the childless not by choice demographic or not. They have decided to contribute a certain dollar amount on a regular basis to help fund my dream of creating awareness and conversation for the childless not by choice community globally. Click the Patreon link for details and to become a Patron!) https://www.patreon.com/21stcenturyhannah   Jordan Morgan   What I read to you earlier was my latest blog post dated April 2, 2018, called ‘Rubbing Salt Into the Wounds’. Any leader of anything will tell you that what they are leading is not about them. Yes, many times the leader of any platform or organization will tell you they started the organization because it was needed and it did not