Twisted Ovaries

An Open Bottle is a Metaphor For Something....

I met with two of my neighbors last night, two strong and lovely ladies that have also been trying for many years to have children.

Both of them are older than I.

Both of them have given up.

I met these two (Billie and Lana) when I lived as a neighbor in a terrace that they live in. Now that I live across the street, I see them less than I used to, but I still love seeing them. They tell me that I am part of the core team, that of all the ladies that circle in and out of our lives the times that we meet up as the three of us are the most fun, and it amazes me that I can be part of something.

I am used to being alone, to fighting my own battles, to soothing my own wounds.

We meet up at a local bar and order a bottle of wine. Once the chenin blanc is opened, the talk starts. It turns out the two of them were worried about me, and wanted to see how I am.

"You go underground," Billie, a veteran of 5 IVF rounds, says softly. "You're so giving and kind and funny but you have all of these defences. I just wanted to find out if you're ok."

And I sigh deeply and start talking, finding that once the bottle of wine is opened and I'm around two women who have been there, done that, so can I also let it out. I tell them of the upcoming cycle. I tell them of the bombshell of my sister's pregnancy and the severely fucked up delivery of the news. I tell them that the crack between me and my family is now a canyon, and all of us have walked away from the ledge, looking for a space for the soul.

I don't have to tell them of my hundred thousand hopes that IVF will work, because they already know.

"You have to just move on," Billie says. "Everyone gets pregnant around us but us. This is how it is."

"True," I say. I think of everyone I work with having babies, of people I meet in the pharmacy that are pregnant, heck even my massage therapist is pregnant. "And for the most part, I'm ok with it. Sure, maybe I feel a twinge of envy or sadness, but I'm ok with it." I look up at them both. "But we all have One Person...One Person who it hurts more than anything to know that they can have the one thing we want most. One Person, whose news shatters your heart."

Billie tears up. "It's true. I had One Person."

Lana clears her throat. "I had One Person, too. I know what you're talking about."

I look up. "I know if I do get pregnant that you may feel strange, and if I don't hear from you then I'll understand."

"Shut up and don't talk ridiculous nonsense," Billie replies perfunctly, and I know that's Billie talk for "no chance".

We talk on, and the two of them share how they feel now. That they now feel their lives are too hectic, too stressed to have children, that now that they have given up on that hope, they can't imagine life if they did have kids. Things turned out better this way, they say.

And then they admit it's a defense mechanism.

And we all tear up together, three women who can't have kids, over a bottle of wine and three sets of broken fallopian tubes and shattered dreams.

PS-Statia has suggested the name Infertile Bitches for anyone going through IVF in March-April-May, and I think it's a good name. Any seconds?

Posted by Vanessa at February 24, 2006 07:24 PM | TrackBack