By Mariette Reineke
At a party recently, together with my husband, a man shared that he and his girlfriend had a child. It was an unexpected pregnancy; she was 42. He asked if we have children and we both said, “No”. It feels freeing to keep the answer short and not have the need to explain why the answer is “No.” I was owned by that need to explain and justify myself for quite some time.
His response was, while looking at me, “Oh, but you still can!” If he had looked at my husband, that would have made sense. Men can deliver the ‘goods’ needed for a pregnancy much longer than women can. These words, ‘but you still can,’ have been said to me several times over the past years. I can take it as a compliment, but that is not the focus of this writing. Although I can no longer get pregnant, nor want to, it seems we keep on insisting on the picture that as women, we have or want children.
Last year I turned 51, which for nearly all women means, that we are no longer fertile. I am not an exception and have been in menopause since age 48.
Menopause has never felt as though it is a loss of my fertility or a mourning that I am no longer being able to conceive a child. I have welcomed this new phase in my life, which I accept and embrace.
Menopause offers me the space to connect deeper with myself, and to let go of feeling I have to live up to the entire world as well as the need to solve other people’s issues. For me, the menopause feels an offer to mature into the woman that I am, without the ideals and expectations from outside.
But, the words, ‘you still can,’ reflect to me how we hold onto a picture and the arrogance and illusion that we control life and get from it whatever we want, whenever we want it, in this case, a child. But ‘you still can’ can be applied to many things in life, where we insist that we get what we want, or need, regardless of the impact on our body and without questioning if it is indeed part of the grand plan called life. In my case, a child was not part of this plan. I had already sensed that growing up and before turning thirty. It was when I was in a long-term relationship and heading towards 35, that something changed, due to pressure and ideals from outside, my age, and thinking, “Is this it?” I was caught in a picture and taken by the thought, “But then what? If not a child, then what will be the purpose of the rest of my life?”
Instead of dealing with the emptiness and lack of responsibility and purpose I was living in, I was caught by the conviction that a child would solve basically everything.
I had tried to get pregnant for quite some time, with the emphasis on trying. Firstly, for over half a year the natural way, although it did not feel that natural. But that is a topic for my next blog. Having sex according to your calendar is anything but natural, nor sexy. After trying in the bedroom, I went to the hospital and was suggested to have IUI (Intra-uterine Insemination) treatments, which my partner at the time and I said yes to. The trying and effort continued because hey, we (still) can.
There is nothing wrong with going to the hospital for fertility treatments and it is amazing that we have all these options. But what is the quality that we as women go to hospital and undergo these treatments with? I was in drive, emphasis (I want to get pregnant! I want to get pregnant!) and was disconnected from my body and therefore was living in a way that was not honoring of the sensitive and delicate woman that I am. I remember one cycle, where I was laying on one of those cold hospital tables after a night out and was treated by the gynecologist while having a hangover and feeling sick. Because I can, right? I remember thinking, “Please, no pregnancy,” as I knew this did not feel true.
I had several IUI treatments and could have continued. The gynecologist then suggested IVF. But ‘you still can!’ Yes, I could keep on trying and even after IVF, there would be more options. My body though, was saying no. Everything in me was saying no.
Just because I (still) can, does not mean I should.
I have learned over many years that my body speaks the truth, loud and clear. I can override the communication of my body, and I have done so many times, but in this moment, I listened to my body, and stopped all treatments. Something else was needed for the plan, and that started with building a relationship with myself. Back to the party and the man who inspired me to write this blog. “But you still can.” I looked at him with a big smile and said, in reply, “I am enjoying menopause.”
✺
