Fertility Of Mind
I’m in my mid-late thirties.
Throughout my life, when asked if I wanted to have kids, my response was “I think so. I don’t know. Maybe. I’m still on the fence.
Though not much has changed, the latter has been, and still is, my default answer. Adoption has always been on the table as a choice, as has the idea of getting knocked up.
Being raised by a single mother, in my mind, if I want kids, I will have them with or without a man. I never plan to get married again. I had a starter marriage for 5-minutes, it didn’t take. Marriage and weddings make my gums itch, my knees weak and make me breakout in hives. I love and support my friends and family who want to get married and are into weddings. I happily attend, support, you know how you do.
I want to fall in love again. I want to be in a relationship and live with someone. I think love lasts as long as it’s meant to, and so do relationships. I’m happy to fall in and out of love many times, and have.
Today, I went to see my doctor (she is great, by the way). The nurse hocked me about my ovum. The conversation went something like this:
- Nurse (21-years-old): (Snidely/bordering shock), When was your last period. Wait, are you even menstruating?!
- Katie’s inner thought: Snatcharella, aren’t I little too young for you to be asking me if my ovum have broken out the crates for Shiva? Conversely, is that an appropriate question? I was at a doctor’s office, so, yeah. Right? I mean, right?
- Katie: I am still menstruating. I am not in menopause.
- Katie’s inner thought: Even if I was in menopause, why can’t I be fertile in other ways? Why is fertility tied to my worth? Why is a woman’s identity tied to her womb and lactating knockers instead of her mind? (PS: I know, way too deep for a fucking doctor’s appointment. There’s a point, stay with me.)
As I waited for the doctor, I was so deep inside my head; an earthquake wouldn’t have rattled me. And earthquakes scare the shit out of me. I’m the one screaming at the top of my lungs during tremors.
Before it wasn’t a sensitive topic; before, it wasn’t something I took issue with; before I was on the precipice of finding out whether or not I am fertile and if this disease has taken that option from me, among others.
On the third day of my period this month, I will know if I am fertile, womb wise, that is. So, yeah, it’s a sensitive issue. Who knew?!
Generally speaking, I like options. The idea of not having the option to procreate is suddenly an issue. I didn’t think it would be. Conversely, never once have I felt that I wasn’t pregnant with possibilities. My worth has never been wrapped up in marriage and children. I define my worth. I am fertile with ideas, fertile with hope and possibilities, overflowing in brain ovum, in fact.
Recently, while talking to a friend of 20-years about fertility, my fertility, she asked me if I regretted having an abortion when I did at 21. I thought what an odd question. How do you correlate the two? So, I asked. I was markedly stunned by her response being the liberal feminist that she is.
“Katie, if you didn’t have an abortion, you’d have a child. If you can’t have kids, maybe God is punishing you.
JAW. FLOOR. NAUSEAS.
Did you just step out of a 1950’s sitcom?! Who are you right now? Are you new?! Have we met?! I have never regretted my abortion or the privilege of having the choice, and I never will. Additionally, what’s with the God punishing me thing? On Yom Kippur after my abortion, I didn’t even mention it in prayer. We’re Jews. Since when have we practiced God guilt? When did you stop being a feminist and why didn’t I get the memo? Grow an untwisted set of ovaries, sister. Wait I’m not done. I was in college. I made the right choice. You supported me then. Why aren’t you lending the same support now?
Her response is irrelevant. Here’s what isn’t Yes. I’m scared. I don’t know how I’ll react if I am infertile. Shit, I don’t even know if I want kids. Still. I know I want the fucking option. What I am also certain of, is that my fertility has never been ensconced in the recesses of my womb or my disease addled, vintage ovum. If my lady eggs have broken out the crates, I’ll cross that shrouded mirror when the time comes.
- Nurse: Do you have kids?
- Katie: No. Do you?
- Nurse: No. I want them so badly. Do you want kids?
- Katie: I don’t know. I might not be able to have kids.
Silence…
Image courtesy of Creativity of Mind
“Did you just step out of a 1950’s sitcom?! Who are you right now? Are you new?! Have we met?!”
Totally and utterly the right response. I mean, wtf? And if I hadn’t let that guy in high school slip his hand under my bra, maybe now I wouldn’t have breast cancer?
Definitely a WTF statement. I’m sorry if you get your choice taken away from you – that’s ugly. But to tie that into your previous choices.
She made a decision that she has to deal with for 20 years – no choices after that. Are you being judged for not having the same tie-down based on your decision?
Thinking of you (and ovum sitting shiva had me laughing out loud)
Thanks for your wonderful comment. You’re right. I agree with you, such a WTF statement.
Thanks for your good thoughts.
So glad you got the ovum/shiva reference. har.
Since I’m an atheist dude Gentile, I’m not sure how much water my opinion holds – it’s a very big bucket, if that helps – but I can speak from experience: enjoy the kidlessness. ;-) It ain’t so bad. That said, I’d like to ask that nurse type chick when the big cheese is gonna get around to punishing people who, you know, actually deserve it.