letter to my body
It’s been a while since we had a real heart-to-heart. Mostly I’ve just been pleading with you to help me out with this baby thing. You know, since you have such a critical role in creating and sustaining life and all. Yet you keep refusing to cooperate, and I don’t know why.
You and I go way back. So just be straight with me. Is this ever going to happen? Because I’m really counting on you. You know I don’t like asking for help, but I really need it now. I don’t have much time left.
I know we’ve had some issues in the past. But please don’t hold that against me now. It’s time to let go of all that. We’ve got to work together here. We need each other.
Yes, I know, I’ve probably subjected you to some abuse in our many years together. I used you to seek pleasure and love before I was ready to receive it. I gave you too much food and drink, and didn’t give you enough activity. I’ve blamed you for all kinds of issues. And then I look to you to help solve my problems with a miracle. I know.
Sure I could probably do better. But I’ve done so much already, I really have. A long time ago I cut out all kinds of stuff that could be bad for you. I try to nurture you with healthful sustenance and avoid anything toxic to your well-being. I’ve sacrificed some of my favorite things as an offering to you.
Yet still you refuse to do your job. So what gives? I mean it seems that nearly every other woman’s body can create and sustain life, no problem. Are you harboring some kind of grudge? Because I thought we made up. Enough already.
For six years — ever since I learned there was a grapefruit-sized mass growing in our womb that had to be removed — I have wondered if you would ever come around and give this baby thing a real chance. You almost did, once. In a strong showing of solidarity, you overcame our aging eggs, scars, crusty tubes and other obstacles, but you did it. You created a magnificent tiny little baby (with a little help from my husband).
You allowed me to see what you are capable of — and it was amazing. I saw with my own eyes on that screen. I was awestruck. You created a darling little boy. You allowed my heart to feel love never before imaginable. You allowed our mind to believe we would really become a mother, finally. You let me experience the beginning of the most beautiful dream. You led me to the edge and said trust me. Behold this vision. A glimpse of joy. It was blissful.
And then you ruined it. You failed. You betrayed us. Why? How could you let us get halfway to term and then shatter our dream? How could you bring me milk with no baby to feed? How could you be so cruel? How can I ever forgive you?
So you see, I’ve got some issues with you too. Yet still I believe we can work this out.
I know you’ve been poked and prodded and probed and pricked, dilated and dissected and diagnosed more times than you care to remember. I know, I was there too.
I’ve begged and pleaded, hoped and dreamed, wished and prayed, bargained, tricked, cursed, cajoled, caressed and blessed — I’ve done it all. For us.
So I’m asking you nicely once again. Can’t you just help me out here? Can’t we just do this together? I mean really, would it kill you to help an old friend realize her lone dream? Please, I beg you, work with me here. We’re running out of time.
I’m always here for you if you need me. I hope I can say the same for you.
Yours in struggle,