It was psychological.

I wanted my life back instantly.

But I also wanted something else—I wanted to feel my womanhood strongly again. It felt like that had been shaken, interrupted, or stolen from me through what happened. I needed proof that it was still there, still intact, still real within me.

And in my mind at that time, pregnancy represented that proof.

Pregnancy is often associated with womanhood, creation, and life. So I attached meaning to it—it became a symbol of restoration. If I could carry life, then maybe it meant I was still whole. Maybe it meant nothing had truly taken my identity away.

It wasn’t really about a baby—it was about validation of self.

But trauma doesn’t heal through instant proof.

What I was actually searching for was safety, ownership of my body again, and reassurance that I was still me. I was trying to rebuild something that had been deeply shaken inside me.

Over time, I’ve learned that these urgent desires are part of how the mind tries to repair deep emotional injury. It reaches for symbols that feel powerful enough to undo pain quickly.

Now I understand that my womanhood was never truly gone, even when I couldn’t feel it. It was covered by trauma, not erased.

And healing has been about slowly reconnecting to that truth in a way that doesn’t require proof—it just requires time, care, and returning to myself.