The Other Woman

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I am not sure if you have had to stare at a doctor and not hear what they are repeatedly saying to you. For a moment, life kinda flashes before you, and all there is is a blank void pain. As women, there is this cultural, well biological and physical pressure that we have to have procreate. Well, that’s the reason for creation basically –“Go forth and fill the world” but what happens when one becomes the exception? Practically, there is no room for deviation, and as a woman (apart from those who voluntarily don’t want anything to do with children) it is a bitter pill to swallow. The society sidelines miscarriages, infertility and other child-bearing issues to such an extent that it is an omen a taboo, in fact, to associate with such women.

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I am very young, well too young and most of my references for such issues were basically social media queens. I’ve heard stories, you know, Gabrielle Union, Mitchell Obama and other women who boldly shared their experiences. What none of them can fully explain is the pain, the crazy blank and void feeling of unworthiness and incompleteness. When one has to hop from doctor to doctor hoping for a better diagnosis, and it is all the same ‘We are doing the best we can”. No one prepares you for that shock. When the life one knew to be dashes of color suddenly becomes a desolate grey scale. While most ladies my age go about worrying about having a full-blown sexual experience without the consequences of another mouth to feed, I have to deal with the fact that I might end up sad and lonely, probably in a house by the beach because what a better way to end misery?

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When the third doctor mentioned I am incapable of having children, I was so confused, I did not understand. What do you mean I can’t have children, I almost jumped into coitus just to prove them wrong. And I didn’t stop there, I went to diagnosis after diagnosis, to hear the same thing over and over – even in a different language so that maybe I could understand. Every time, I left the doctor’s office, my boyfriend stood there with this defeated look in his eyes, and I couldn’t bear it. I mean when you have dated someone long enough you get to talk about things like marriage and family, and that house by the beach. At that moment, I didn’t know how those women who bore this for years actually got the strength to face society. We called them barren and all sorts of names, not knowing the pain they faced behind closed doors. You see at this point I was more or less like a written off vehicle, maybe, just maybe good for partial spare parts. Yet, some women have had to go through miscarriage after miscarriage, at least they could conceive yet we mocked them. Women whose bodies have become permanent medical camps. When pain feels like nothing. I have had some rough days, but this right here is my ultimate 10. I am not sure if I can love or be loved anymore. Because after all what do I have to offer? I cried so much I couldn’t even think straight. Then it hit me, it was just the beginning. After all, God is the giver of children, He gives and takes as so willed.
I am not sad, I am devastated.

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PS: This is fictitious, I am very okay but if you’re a lady and reading this – go for a check up or something and take care of yourself, don’t ignore that pain or just brush off anything mild. You are enough. You are beautiful.

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1 thought on “The Other Woman

  1. I was reading this and the pain was almost tangible. its also true that before a woman even gets an opportunity to speak about her issues there are already labels upon labels on her.
    thanks for this piece…whenever inspiration hits please do more pieces on women’s health

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