I will accept the seed you are so dying to plant in my body—for me to carry around with swollen feet and an aching back, for me to give up the stuff I enjoy and accept whatever commands are given by those who don’t even own my soma. In that temporariness, I have to give up the carte blanche of my flesh and bones, for the little bud slowly blooming inside is a treasure much worthier than me.

I will give up the already scarce love I have for myself and let go of my selfishness, the last layer of my defense—to birth a new breath into this world as I grit my teeth, not only to numb the pain that may last forever but also to swallow the guilt for bringing another helpless creature into this overly-populated toxic sphere, for pushing them into a grueling rat race to climb the never-ending pyramid in a competition long started even before we were born.

And I will hand you the blooming flower nurtured inside my body. To keep the noble bloodline unsevered. To fulfill their destiny, surrendering their lives to care for our wilting leaves and dying roots. To pave a smooth way for us to heaven with their chants while we leave them behind to fend for their lives in a realm beyond saving. I will once again grit my teeth and try to chew my guilt as they, too, may have to deal with the fog in their head one day because they have my genes mixed in them—and the guilt for ever having and giving up a dream to bring in those who have breathed the air yet are abandoned in this cruel world, to shelter them, and aid them in getting the same opportunities as those luckier than them.

I will do it all, but that is the amount of effort I can give—for the blues are only mine to bear, and the symptoms of an empty cradle last for years. I need not a crystal ball to see it coming right after wreaking havoc on my already turbulent hormones and emotions. No, it isn’t the same as the previous generations—those who continuously urge me to fill the empty pot inside me. It’s a different day, a different world. What women have to be burdened with is no longer the same, as the expectations mount and the advanced technology causes pain.

That’s the amount I can give. I will slowly detach myself from what once was inside my body before unreasonable self-loathing and inexplicable hatred towards innocent souls cast a murky shadow that will engulf every single one of us. I’ll watch from my window as a mere responsible adult, as you play and raise them to your heart’s content.

That’s all. The amount I can give.