Thursday, April 19, 2012

For those who don't conceive...

Life has been a tad unpredictable lately, forcing me to adapt to everything, resigning my desire to feel in control. Such unpredictability refers to my recent loss of a lady-bit due to possibly lady-cancer. Yes, I underwent a preventative oophorectomy. This procedure removed my left ovary, a hideously large mass attached to it and the accompanying fallopian tube. Further, since they were gyno-cancer-surgeons-specialists, they procured some other slabs of tissue (appendix and a hunk of belly chub) for possible cancer staging. 

My sister had ovarian cancer in her early twenties-- totally random, but she survived. And so, with her past and my 9cm mass, they figured they would not risk it. Luckily, and as I predicted, I am so far void of any cancer. However, my inkling leans more towards endometriosis, explaining the painful-nausea-inducing menstrual cycles I have endured for 10+ years. But I have yet to receive this confirmation. 

So, what the fudge does this all have to do with feminism and the personal/political divide? 

Well, the reactions to my situation have been shocking, to say the least. 

The first concern that many had when they learned of my health issues regarded my (in)ability to make babies - Not a worry for my health, no does she have cancer? Is she okay?

 No, No..
Instead more the responses were more akin to

"Oh my god, will you be able to have kids?" 

and even, "Well, no kids for you!" 

After my initial shock over the realization that many people have already affirmed my position as incubator, I informed the so-called concerned folks that in fact, I have no plans of creating, housing, and raising babies (can you believe it?!) and, further reminded them that a woman with only one ovary can get pregnant. 


What I find so troubling, however, is how concerned people are - particularly other women - with my (in)ability to conceive offspring, as if my body was merely a holding capsule for a fetus and nothing more. Also, if a woman shares her refusal to house a fetus and take on the role of mother to another person, she will likely be shamed for her decision. Why? Because all women are taught that our bodies, particularly our reproductive organs, dictate our "womanliness" - our place in the world is defined by our ability to bear children. If we are not smiling while tossing shit-drenched diapers into the trash, we are bad women. If we refuse to conceive at all, or cannot physically do so - we are useless women. How would any decent woman find any joy in life without becoming a mother?


Women's universal role of man-loving baby-producer is so embedded that many fail to understand how anything but producing children would be of concern in the case of a gynecological health issue. It was bordering on comical for me, as fertility was the last thing on my mind, in fact - until my male surgeon quickly informed me that he could put me through some crazy fertility-industry treatments if I wanted. He, of course, was assuming I would be wanting it. I mean, what 22 year old wouldn't be into shitting away a bunch of money to further fuel the baby-making-business that preys on women's bodies and their perceived 'failures'? It was as if the only worry that I should have had was whether or not I could reproduce, not whether or not my body was healthy and not engulfed in cancer.


Fortunately, my recovery is going well and I am trying to stay positive (and cancer-free) - however, a point of advice for the  many well-intentioned baby-enthusiasts, not that intent really matters in the end, but - consider your words before you speak to a woman who is suffering with gynecological issues. Female sex organs serve a multitude of purposes beyond producing and housing babies.  As someone who values my body's holism, I am saddened the loss of my ovary - not because it involves fertility, but because it is a part of me. 





5 comments:

  1. I'm sorry to hear what you're going through, but also glad that it didn't turn out to be the big C.

    When I was 20, I was diagnosed with PCOS. To me, it was a combination of 1) a relief to finally have a name for what was wrong and 2) stress and grief integrating a "new normal" in which my understanding of myself a "healthy" changed. What it was NOT, to me, in any way, shape, or form, was anything about reproduction. And yet some of the first words out of the (female!) doctor's mouth was, "people with PCOS can usually still have children, even if fertility treatments are needed." I was so shocked. That wasn't even on my mind! In fact, I wasn't even sure I wanted kids at that age (20!!) and by 28 I was sitting in the doctor's office with my male partner who was getting a vasectomy because I had made my decision.

    It was just so eye-opening that they assumed I'd be so worried about that--and also that that's what they were worried about. Not about how my life and my experience of my body was changing, not about the grief and stress I might be going through, but about whether or not my body was going to be able to fulfill its proper social role as incubator.

    Your story called my story to mind. It's probably a story many of us share.

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  2. Hello, Lysandra

    I am so sorry to hear that you were diagnosed with PCOS - other women with it have shared hat it is rather difficult to live with. Many many women I have spoken to have had something -- whether cysts or fibroids, endometreosis or even cancer.

    That is very horrifying and shocking that you had a similar experience - I wonder how often this happens? It feels pretty rotten to hear the first concern regarding reproduction, not the woman's health or her experiences with the particular issue. It made me feel really strange and hurt. Also, as you described, you were approached about fertility treatments, it seems that is a booming industry, it frightens me that women are being viewed as consumers instead of patients when they encounter health issues. It just seems like our bodies are only perceived for that purpose and nothing else, and that is so, so sad - really illustrates how essential feminism is today.

    I am so glad you shared your story, I hope more readers do the same.

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  3. Wow- you got me.

    As I was reading, my first thought was 'damn, that is serious, I hope she's OK' but then, a very CLOSE SECOND thought was 'I wonder if if will effect her chances of having kids'.

    I don't want kids either, but STILL that thought crossed my mind. That shit is ingrained deep...

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  4. BK,

    So glad your recovery is going okay.

    Honestly, I'm not surprised to hear about the reactions you've received (I'm the Resident Cynic, okay?). All my life I've known I haven't wanted kids, and that's never been taken seriously. I hate it when other women start conversations with, "when you have kids..." Giving birth is such an assumed part of a woman's life.

    I honestly wonder what it would be like to assume every person wants to have children; that's a complete 180 paradigm shift from where I am.

    I get the sense some women feel uncomfortable after I say I don't want kids. There is just this awkward pause, like they assume I'm judging them. Which I'm not!!! But not every person wants to raise them.

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  5. Occasional ExpositorMay 9, 2012 at 5:26 PM

    Sorry to hear about your recent scare. I went through something similar at age 24 - the surgeon removed the cysts on my ovaries, and in exchange gave me an endometriosis diagnosis.

    But because they didn't remove either of my ovaries, I was spared those "OMG babies!!" comments.

    Endometriosis sucks, but after the first surgery I had about 8 years pain free. I hope you get some relief at least.

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