A Wake-Up Call I Didn’t See Coming

For two decades, I obsessed over motherhood and the fantasy of a stable family — unconsciously replaying the same dysfunctional patterns I grew up with.

At 39, a doctor looked at my swollen belly and said I looked seven months pregnant. But there was no baby —just a tumor the size of a watermelon.

Despite dozens of tests, no one could confirm whether it was benign or malignant. One doctor even told me, “People with tumors that size usually don’t survive long.”

For an entire month, I lived with the fear that I might die. I closed my business. Sold my belongings. Downsized my life to a carry-on suitcase.

I even did an 18-day water fast, hoping the tumor would shrink. I lost 15 kilos (33 pounds) — and yet my belly still looked eight months pregnant.

Eventually, the tumor — nearly 3 kg (6.6 lbs), was found to be benign. But it didn’t feel random. It felt symbolic. The same weight as a newborn.

A powerful example of psychosomatics: When emotions have nowhere to go, they find a home in the body.

Later, a man I dated saw the scar and asked, “I see you had a C-section. Did you have a child?” That question hit hard. It reminded me how deeply that longing for a child had lived in me —and how it had manifested as a massive intramural fibroid...making me look visibly, painfully, pregnant with the life I never got to have.

Marriage in America

At 40, I met an American man in Paris. We fell in love and shared a dream of building a future — and a family — together.

I moved to California believing I had finally found my “forever family.”

But reality hit hard. A new country. A new culture. A new climate. No network. No friends. I had to learn how to drive, get my first license, and start completely from scratch.

From the beginning, I felt that his family didn’t like me. I found myself shrinking under their disapproving silence. Less than a year in, it all exploded. I was harshly attacked by his mother in my own home. She screamed at me:

“I hate you. You stole my son from me. You forced him to marry you. You are not my family. Don’t contact anyone. My daughter hates you. My husband hates you.” His father and sister rejected me, too. It was brutal — and deeply traumatizing. The attack stemmed from my husband’s unresolved trauma with his family.

I was diagnosed with PTSD. It took three years of therapy just to begin healing. And it broke something fundamental in our marriage.

Still, we clung to the hope of having a child. I prepared my body — underwent surgery, got vaccinated, and took supplements. I committed. Fully.

And then, out of nowhere, he told me he no longer wanted children.

The heartbreak was unbearable. I grieved the baby I had emotionally prepared for. I returned to therapy — but this time, I was alone.

He pulled away. Emotionally shut down. Criticized me for not “getting over it fast enough.”

Contempt replaced connection. Silence replaced support.

I felt invisible. Unloved. Completely alone. He didn’t just stop loving me — he erased me, one dismissive silence at a time.

The Pivotal Moment

I hit rock bottom.

I called a suicide hotline — twice in one week.

 On the second call, a man said something I’ll never forget:

 “If you’re looking for permission to leave, this is it.

You deserve to feel loved and valued.”

That sentence cracked something open in me.

 I filed for divorce.

I was alone in a foreign country. No support. No income.

Drowning in allergy hell. Heartbroken. Exhausted. Still grieving the baby I had been preparing for — emotionally and physically.

But this time, I made a conscious decision:

I will never abandon myself again.

Rebirth

What followed was a full-on metamorphosis.

I didn’t just want to feel better — I wanted to change everything.

So I went all in.

I immersed myself in therapy, hypnotherapy, breakup recovery, and coaching.

I did spiritual work, inner child healing, grief rituals, shadow work, and reparenting.

I faced it all — every unhealed childhood wound, every inherited pattern, every lie I believed about love. I rebuilt myself from the inside out.

Not just from the divorce — but from decades of believing I wasn’t enough.

I stopped performing for approval.

I stopped shrinking to be accepted.

Most importantly, I stopped waiting to be chosen.

 I chose myself.

And in that choice, something powerful happened:

I became a certified divorce recovery coach — not just by training, but by transformation.

Where I Am Now

Today, I feel grounded. At peace. Whole.

I’ve let go of the longing for a “forever family" and become my own safe place.

My life is rooted in self-trust, emotional freedom, and quiet strength.

I made peace with not becoming a mother — and I am creating a life that’s still meaningful, vibrant, and mine.

I no longer chase love. I cultivate it — within and around me.

I walk with my beloved dog, grow flowers and vegetables, paint, create, hold my boundaries, and nourish real friendships. I know what I need — and I listen to myself. I truly love myself now, like I never could before. I’ve become the woman I always needed in my life.

And now — I help other women rise too—through heartbreak, through chaos, through the fire of reinvention.

If you’re still in the dark part of your story, trust me — there’s a brighter chapter ahead. You will get there.

With love,

Lina Jane