By AMC Head of Communication Claudia Peschiutta
I woke up to the thought, “I will never know what it’s like to be pregnant. I will never know what it’s like to have a child.”
Why would this be my first thought of the day? I might have liked being a mother, but I’ve never had a burning desire to have children.
I think what’s bothering me is the feeling that windows of opportunity are closing. Getting pregnant naturally is no longer an option because I’m in menopause. I don’t like losing that possibility and wondering what I may have missed.
During my peak child-bearing years, I was the sole caregiver for my father, who suffered from Parkinson’s disease. I had no other family in the U.S., so there was no one nearby to help me care for him and share the weight of making so many important decisions for him. It was exhausting and I had so little to give anyone else. Finding a partner and starting a family weren’t priorities.
I remember a Zoom meeting when someone threw out what was supposed to be a fun icebreaker question about what kind of pet we would like to have. My response? “I don’t want a pet because I don’t want any more responsibility in my life.”
My father passed away in 2020 and I still feel like I’m recovering from the caregiving experience. I’ve thought about adopting a child, but that’s a huge responsibility and I’m not ready to take on another long caregiving assignment.
I don’t feel like any less of a woman for not becoming a mother, but the FOMO is real. I think what I really miss is being part of a family. I’m living in Kosovo and my mother and most of my other relatives are in Argentina. So now I’m working on building my own community in Prishtina.
I quickly made friends here during my first visit in November 2024. I moved to Prishtina shortly after that and within a few weeks, I had a bigger and more active circle of friends here than in the Los Angeles area, where I’d spent most of my life.
This circle includes people from Kosovo and internationals who are living in Prishtina, all of whom have welcomed me with open arms. For example, the Albanian ladies in my folk dancing class treat me like a sister or a daughter, even though we don’t all speak the same language.
“I love you very much, very beautiful girl,” one of the ladies said to me the other day. It meant so much to me and made me feel like I’m a part of something.
