Dreamgirl

“Every man has his own special dream, and your dreams’ just about to come true. Life’s not as bad as it may seem if you open your eyes to what’s in front of you.” Dreamgirls Soundtrack

Infertility and it’s affect on womanhood: Part Two

The hand that rocks the cradle controls the world. Antiquated notions of womanhood have trickled into modem day transforming into a multifaceted idea of gender roles. To be a real woman then (and even today) you must know how to cook, clean, take care of the house, take care of your husband, and of course rear the children. Your success in life measured on the maintenance and happiness of others.

So when you’re the woman whose house will never be filled with the pitter-patter of little feet, what then distinguishes you as a woman?

Thanks to modern science, a man can easily become female: add a few parts on top, remove a few parts on bottom and voila! There standing before you a reconfigured woman. The only inherent difference between that reconstructed woman and a natural woman is the womb. But if your womb doesn’t work, where does that leave you?

There lies the question: what is the difference between a barren woman and a transsexual man?

I feel like Sojourner Truth protesting my forgotten placement while chanting “Ain’t I a woman?”

I spoke about infertility affecting relationships in my earlier post, but I waited for this one to touch on infertility challenging my ‘natural’ role in society. Through the comments, I’ve learned that being able to bear children does matter when a man considers a future mate. The lack of procreation, though, won’t matter if he falls in love. Here in lies the point, I doubt a man will ever fall in love with a woman knowing she can’t be a mother to his kids. But I digress; the other underlying issue is that a woman now feels like she has no place in society.

Talk about throwing shade, infertility is incarceration on the South Pole. Not only are you cold, you start to lose melanin from lack of sunlight… soon you‘ll be as inarticulate as this topic. In other words a myth, a ghost, an urban legend.

What then makes a woman? Its not boobs, or booty, ot… other parts because technology has learn to engineer that and sell it to the highest bidder. Hell, Maury convinced us that many really can’t tell the difference. So what is it?

Maybe it’s the innate desire to see the white stick with two lines? Honestly, what the point of having Eve’s curse if you’re not blessed with the tiny tots that make AuntFlo necessary.

Readers:

Men, without children, what makes a woman a woman?

Ladies, what makes you a woman? And if you were barren, would you feel less of one?

 

Diggin’ on you

“Diggin’ the scene, Diggin’ on you, Diggin’ on me, Baby baby ooo Baby baby ooo, It’s on like that, It’s on like that, I gotta be in love or something like that” TLC

I don’t know what it is about first encounters leading up to first dates, but they always remind me of 90’s R&B. So of course when I spotted this fine young specimen at the bar, the first thing I heard ”I was like deep in a cool…” maybe it’s just me, but a black man in yellow is guaranteed to catch my eye. It’s the perfect color.  And meeting CD was the perfect level of corny and cute to garner interest. He was nice, kept me laughing (on purpose and by accident), and definitely peacocked in swagger. As the conversation wound down, I was left hoping for more. Like a true Southern gentleman he didn’t disappoint. He politely asked for my number, wanting to genuinely get to know me while he was in town that weekend. Coyly, I gave him the digits peep the 90’s lingo), and moved on to the next venue for the evening.

I was pleasantly surprised to see and unknown 678# flash across my screen that same night. I love it when it’s easy; when for lack of sufficient time, we cut through the games and try to simply get to know each other.

Texting back and forth, I decided to go for the gold by asking him to get dinner and then drinks Saturday night. I had to pat myself on the back for that one. I knew either way that I was going to go out that night, but I had hoped it would be with him. I prepped in all the right ways… long shower, pressed hair, carefully applied makeup, fresh nail color, nice outfit, great accessories, perfect scent. I had waited for him to say, oh I’d like to see you tonight, but hey this is 2011, why not ask him… right?

I pick him up at his hotel. We go get dinner, and he paid. Now, this is where things are tricky. From the moment I picked him up there was no va-va-voom, you know? He didn’t say you look nice, he did say it was nice to see you. But we were chumming it up like pals. So I did the pal like thing and offered to pay for myself. That definitely caught him off guard.

Dinner was nice. Good conversation. He’s definitely my type: smart, but humble; ambitious, but still discovering himself; between the ages of 28-32 so definitely settled; and very gentlemanly (held the door, pulled out my chair, waited for both entrees to arrive before eating, listened and was engaging). Those aren’t mandatory qualities, but after living in DC for 8 years, it’s definitely refreshing to see.

After dinner, I suggested another place for drinks. With him being a tourist, so to speak, I wanted to show him the best of the city. And he wanted to walk instead of drive to the bar, which was nice. The thing about DC, all the great places are spread out, so you have to be willing to travel to find them. We walked over a mile, with amazing rapour, both simply comfortable in each other’s presence. Definitely moved from first date talk to second date talk, transitioning between growing up, going to school, work, family, first loves, past loves, next steps, likes/dislikes, hopes, dreams, future goals. This continued for 3 hours at the bar. Maybe it’s just me, but when I spend that much time in a man’s presence it’s because I like him. And I want to experience his warmth… now get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about his arm around me, his scent near me, his hand holding mine.

We leave Marvin’s only to head to Republic for dancing. By then it’s after 11. We met up at 7. We stayed close, experiencing each other’s heat until about 1:30. Then we made the long trek back to my car.

Here’s where I get confused. We walk back, still talking, even easier now that there’s liquor in our system. He opens my car door, tells me he had a good time. We stop to get him pizza, and then I drop him off at the hotel. That’s it.

I can’t lie and say that I didn’t expect a little more. Maybe some high school necking in front of the hotel, but hey all things happen for a reason.

I was even more surprised to see him text me on Sunday. And continue texting me throughout the day. But after that? No follow through. He didn’t text me to tell me he was home safely. I was the last text, so I couldn’t text again. By the time Wednesday rolled around when it was ‘safe’ enough to talk to him without seeming pressed, I had lost interest.

All in all, a good first date and a great experience. But I don’t wanna be the one making all the moves! So next time, what should I do?

Readers: What’s proper dating etiquette in this situation? Should I have contacted him? Was I right to let it go? How do you show interest without being… pressed?

Dance me to the end of love

“Dance me to the children who are asking to be born, Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn, Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn, Dance me to the end of love.” The Civil Wars

“Baby, I can’t have your babies”.

Stop. Let that sentence marinate.

Now… Let me ask you, when is a good time to introduce the dynamic of infertility into a relationship? When are you supposed to honestly tell the man courting you, that the potential for children with you is slim to none?

Do you tell him when you’re just casually dating— say around month two before you get serious? Before you become exclusive? Do you tell him after you gain the illustrious title of girlfriend? Do you wait until he says “I love you”? (if after, are you potentially challenging his love?) Do you wait until he proposes, thus knowing for sure he sees you in his future? Or do you wait until after you hook him indefinitely? Maybe over breakfast one morning, while pouring his coffee and nuzzling his neck, you pop the American Dream bubble painting the white picket fence orange, and replacingthe 2.5 kids with dogs.

It boils down to how important kids are to the equation of everlasting happiness. Based on SBM.org’s latest post  and the succession of comments, a woman can be disqualified from future wifedom based on her maternal potential.So how do you handle this situation with a future mate?

It brings up three interesting topics where a woman’s infertility is involved.

1.  Men don’t actively think of adoption

I’m not sure if it’s a planning thing or if men are so sure of their potency that the idea of adoption as the only method of continuing their lineage never pops into their head. Historically it’s always been seen as the woman’s issue if her womb doesn’t respond, which leaves the man free to pursue other options. Inn the case where it is known that the woman is barren before matrimony, he has the option not to continue in the relationship because in the long run it doesn’t benefit his life plan.

There is no overwhelming hanker to raise and nurture a little one that doesn’t belong to you.

2.    A man’s strength can only be tested so much

Let’s say the man decides to press on, accepting a woman’s sterile hollow, he better be prepared for lot’s of pity. I don’t know why but it seems like a husband’s affinity for his wife is judged on how many kids he begets on her.

Not only does it show his virility (read manliness), it also highlights an outward manifestation of his continued affection for his spouse. I.E. he willingly and eagerly seeks her bed often and here’s the proof.

Now imagine a marriage timeline of pained smiles when people ask when you’re going to pop out some babies. Or the awkward silence after you explain that though you’ve been married nearly a decade, you have no step-ladder visual painting the picture of forever.

Men, can you live with a loving spouse but no legacy?

3.  If you truly love someone, you should let them go…. Right?

Let’s say the committed relationship presents itself, the hurdle of infertility long in the distance, how do you know if he’s really ready?

Can he handle the disappointment of an incomplete nucleus? What if, by chance, you are able to conceive but it ends in miscarriage each time? Can you handle waking up to blood drenched sheets? The remnants of lost life creating chasms in a sacred bond.

Will you hold me as I cry myself to sleep every night for a life that could have been? Will you talk me through the joys of other conceptions and subsequent births, knowing that can never be our life? Will you console me as I stare out into nothing feeling lost and incomplete? Is that too much to ask?

Should I ask you to change your image of normal for me?

Or should I love you enough to know your dreams should realize, but it may not be with me? Can I bring myself to say “Mr. Bee, I love you to pieces and back whole again but I won’t ask you to be satisfied with only me for the next 50 years; so with a sweetly sinful meld of parted lips, I wish you infinite happiness… with another”?

Readers: What would you do? Any advice? Do you believe in forever? Guys, if your girl told you she couldn’t bear your seed, would you still see her in your fantasy of for always? 

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