I too

I Too… by an anonymous childless woman 

I too want to treasure my belly, my womb because there’s a child growing in there, my child, the love of my life: stroking, loving, cherishing, keeping safe under my heart.

I too want to see a grainy image on an ultrasound that’s my first look at my beloved’s face.

I too want to have permission, a right, to be cared for, to care for myself, to ask for special treatment, to be thought of first, to be given the best of everything, considered, seen as special, treated differently, better, because I’m carrying a precious cargo. 

I too, I too want to become part of a system, a plan of appointments, midwives, due dates, help, support, consideration.

I too want a new name.

And this will never happen for me.

And this is OK, and also not OK at the same time.

Mourning it is also OK, is allowed, is normal.

There is room for many emotions, all are permitted. Joy for others can co-exist with sadness for me, and for the child who would have been mine. There is room for it all. 

But what there is no room for is a baby in my life, in my body, because it is impossible. I have no generative ability, no hospitable womb, no opportunity, no chance.

And so I love, and I mourn, and I allow, and I celebrate, and I survive.

I too. I survive.