Being Barren

I have often reflected on the fact that if I can't have children, I'm at least glad that I live in this day and age. It would have been much harder to have lived in Biblical times when barreness carried such a stigma and husbands could divorce wives simply because there were no children - regardless of who was the cause (it seems it was always perceived to be the woman's fault). I think there are still cultures today with this type of philosophy. I have also told my husband I'm grateful he's not like Henry VIII who would have had me beheaded by now.

I wanted to share a couple of poems I've written about infertility. One is funny, the other not. Hope you enjoy them. They both helped me at the time of writing.

Ode to Infertility
I can’t seem to get pregnant,
But it’s okay you see
Cause everyone around me
Knows how to, except me.

They say:
Do it in the morning
No, only sex at night
Do it standing on your head
Then cross your legs real tight.

Try sex while facing downward
But only once a week,
Trust me this one always works
You’re on a winning streak.

Never drink your orange juice
Eat honey every day
Eat lots of sweet potatoes
You’ll have success that way.

You’re probably just way to stressed
So be sure to relax,
Maybe take vacation
Want more advise? Just ask.

You could always try adoption
That’s a certain cure.
‘Cause once you adopt a baby
You’ll get pregnant for sure.

You prob’ly haven’t prayed enough
It’s all an attitude
Just try a little harder
(I hope I don’t sound rude.)

Me again:
So I guess I’ll keep on trying
For an oven with a bun.
The one good thing about it -
At least the trying’s fun.


The Empty Womb
My womb is dry.
A dark and dreary cavern,
Filled with sperm
wandering aimlessly
and without purpose.
A black hole
in the space of my abdomen.

Sometimes I lie at night,
the silence echoing around
the chamber of death.
(Can there be death
where there is no life?)

I can’t question why.
To do so would show
a lack of faith.
I’m afraid if my faith
is less than perfect,
I will disqualify myself
from a blessing
that is not mine.

Did I make some
long-forgotten choice
for which
this is the consequence?