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Sometimes I think our story would
make one hell of a movie. It has it all- love, tragedy, sex, acceptance. But
we’ve toughed it out, haven’t we?
And our relationship grows deeper and closer with every year that
passes. Today I know you inside and out. Every mole, tooth chip and
smell, every time you ovulate and menstruate. In my teens I was too
busy drinking, partying, living in the moment to give you much
thought. Then I found out I was pregnant. I was 17 and still in school.
Although I had a termination I realised your capacity for changing
the entire course of my life and the idea that I could one day be a
mother was planted inside of me, inside of you.
When I started working in fashion in my 20s, our relationship
changed. In such an image-obsessed industry I started to pay more
attention to what I was feeding you and I realised you enjoyed
exercise. When I met Alex, you were young and sexy and confident
and we fell in love hard. I remember the thrum of your skin when he
touched you. The butterflies in your stomach when he said your
name. When we discovered there was another life inside you six
months later, I was shocked, then excited. It seemed like the right
thing, a natural extension of the love Alex and I had for each other.
When you miscarried I was devastated, but a year later, when Alex
and I started officially ‘trying’ that sadness turned to hope. However,
you had other plans.Every month, with the arrival of each period, I felt so disappointed
and scared. What was wrong with you? Alternative medicine didn’t
help, so Alex and I went to get checked out. His sperm was fine but
your FSH hormone level was off the charts. We were advised that
this meant we had a minimal chance of conceiving and needed to
start IVF immediately. In the months following, I turned the blame
on myself, certain that I had done something in my past to cause
this problem. Neither Alex nor I coped well and our relationship
unravelled. I fell apart.When those periods, which had been erratic for so long, came back
in full force after we split, I took this as a sign that maybe I had just
stressed you out. I knew I’d been focusing on what youcouldn’t
doand it was time to take care of you again. I went to therapy, fed you
good food, slept more and took long, long baths. I also discovered
yoga. In those hatha classes, for a few hours a week, you felt strong
and healthy, not broken. You softened and changed, and for the first
time, you felt womanly. My confidence grew and I knew that life
would be OK again.I still wanted kids though, so I saw another doctor. After that, I was
diagnosed with premature menopause at 35. I saw a young, healthy
woman when I looked in the mirror, but on the inside you were like
a 60-year-old. It didn’t make sense. I do love you, Body, but it’s
pretty hard to reconcile that love with the sense you have somehow
betrayed me. I don’t know if I can go through trying to get pregnant
again. But if I’m really honest there is a part of me that knows,
someday Iwill be a mother. Body, I am so sure I will feel the kick
inside. I can’t wait to share that adventure with you, however and
whenever that may be.Dear Body,
Love, Rebecca
REBEC CA, 35,
HAS BEEN
DIAGNOSED
WITH FERTILITY
ISSUES