The answer is far more profound than simply “bringing a child home.” It is a journey of re-creating meaning, rebuilding identity, and reclaiming hope. This truth surfaced vividly in a recent emotional outburst online. A desperate cry came from a childless woman who, behind her seemingly confident appearance, confessed to battling an emptiness that had quietly eroded her from within. Her story struck the internet like a quiet storm: “I may look strong, but I’m empty inside.” In her trembling voice, one could hear the echo of a pain many bear silently.
The woman, Chinenyenwa, had married in her twenties, full of dreams of an early family life. Yet years later, she found herself still waiting, still hoping, still wondering why nature withheld from her what seemed so effortless for others. Her viral TikTok video showed her in tears as she described the constant emotional toll, the internal war between hope and heartbreak, and the fear that her smile had become a mask rather than a reflection of her soul. And as the video spread, thousands of Nigerians responded. Some offered comfort, some prayers, and others urged her to consider adoption, a suggestion that carried both compassion and controversy.
Her story was not just a moment of vulnerability; it was a mirror held up to society, a reminder of how fragile the human heart can be. Earlier, I reflected on how emotional intelligence teaches us that when we cannot change a situation, we must change the perception through which we view it. This applies not only to personal struggles like infertility, but even to larger national frustrations—be it government failures or insecurity challenges, where some people pour fuel on the fire simply because of political biases. Emotional maturity demands a different response: to resist the temptation to interpret life only from the angle of despair.
The sadness surrounding Chinenyenwa’s story and the reactions it gathered reminded me once again of the power of perception. A situation becomes unbearable not merely because it is difficult, but because of the meaning we give to it. Psychologist Viktor Frankl, in his celebrated theory of logotherapy, argued that “when we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves,” beginning with the way we interpret reality. This is the same wisdom echoed in the teachings of emotional intelligence: we can reshape our inner world even when the outer world refuses to cooperate.
This brings us to the idea of adoption, not as a consolation prize, not as an act of desperation, but as a profound re-creation of meaning. Adoption allows individuals to transfer love, entitlement, bonding, and emotional ownership onto a child who may not share their blood but inevitably shares their future. It reshapes identity and offers a new narrative where loss does not end the story but opens a different chapter. I have often said that even fantasy can heal. The ability to imagine a different outcome, to craft a new version of one’s life, is itself an act of emotional intelligence.
Life, in many ways, is what we choose to make of it. We can build an inner world rich enough to sustain us, even if we can only walk through it and believe in it. To illustrate, I recall the story of a man who was insulted with the words “your father,” and yet he smiled. Confused, the crowd wondered why he wasn’t angry. Unknown to them, he had simply redefined the words. In his mind, the insult had become a compliment. His peace came from perception, not circumstance.
Childlessness is a complex emotional terrain that touches psychology, sociology, culture, and spirituality. Psychologists describe it as a major life crisis capable of shaking one’s sense of identity and purpose. Sociologists observe how some cultures, particularly those that glorify marriage and reproduction, stigmatize childlessness, causing those affected to feel isolated or incomplete. Spiritually, childlessness often becomes a test of faith and endurance, pushing individuals to question life’s meaning. Yet from feminist, existential, and even cultural perspectives, childlessness can also represent liberation, introspection, or spiritual devotion. Life does not unfold in one direction; it unfolds in many, and meaning depends on the lens through which we view it.
The emotional burden of childlessness is real, but so is the possibility of reclaiming joy. Many people face judgment, envy, despair, and the sting of comparison. They confront societal expectations, cultural pressure, and internal guilt. But emotional intelligence invites a shift toward acceptance, gratitude, self-love, resilience, and the intentional pursuit of purpose. Strength often emerges not from changing our situation, but from changing the way we see ourselves within it.
And then, there is adoption—a quiet but powerful transformation waiting behind the curtain of despair. Research from child-welfare agencies, health organisations, and family-development scholars consistently shows that adoption provides deep emotional rewards. Adoptive parents often report renewed purpose, increased closeness, and a sense of fulfilment equal to, and sometimes surpassing, biological parenthood. Psychologists link this to the attachment theory of John Bowlby, which argues that emotional bonds are formed through care, safety, and presence, not biology. Large studies also show that parents, including adoptive ones, tend to enjoy better long-term health, stronger social networks, and increased resilience due to the demands and joys of caring for a child.
The story of the Smiths beautifully illustrates this. After years of trying to conceive, they turned to adoption, driven not by fear but by emotional maturity. Their journey was difficult with setbacks, delays, and uncertainties, but they remained anchored by hope. When they finally met Maya, a little girl who had waited months for a permanent home, their lives took on new colour. They learned her needs, embraced her fears, and created an environment where she could heal and grow. Their emotional intelligence helped to acknowledge their feelings, regulate their reactions, empathize deeply, and commit fully, which became the foundation of their new family. Today, Maya thrives, and the Smiths stand as living proof that love makes a family, not blood.
Chinenyenwa’s story, and countless others like hers, remind us that life is unpredictable and often beyond our control. But what is within our control is the power of perception. Some people choose not to pursue marriage or children at all, and they live fulfilling lives. This means that the supposed “worst situation” is not inherently tragic; it is tragic only when perceived as such. A shift in perspective can turn grief into growth, loneliness into meaning, and hopelessness into strength. Life does not always give us what we expect, but it always gives us the freedom to reinterpret what it gives.
In the end, adoption is more than a solution to childlessness. It is a redefinition of family, a testament to emotional resilience, and a celebration of the human capacity to love beyond biology. It is proof that even when life withholds one door, another can open brighter, warmer, and full of unexpected joy.
Bagudu can be reached at bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or on 0703 494 3575.
