And finally I tell them.
I think I have tocophobia.
And they tell me I’ll grow out of it,
That id be silly not to be a bit scared,
That if anything I’m now well prepared.
But I’m trying to explain
As best I can
But they won’t hear me when I say
It makes me hate being a woman
That there is no loop hole here
That in front of me is an inevitable pain
That I will have to go through
And I can’t help but resent men for the fact that having children
For them
Does not require a loop hole
That it does not require a choice
Or a sacrifice.
But they won’t hear me.
I’m getting from them
That everyone feels this way
That it’s just how it is
But I know they don’t hear me right because whilst they say these things
I’m picturing my vagina being ripped in two
And a man by my side
Telling me how worth it this has been
And I want to say
What did you lose here?
I lost my dignity at the door
I lost my vagina to a screeching whale
That you are trying to say has my eyes
But the only similarity I see in those wet eyes
Is pain.
I love children.
I try that angle next, for fear people misunderstand
That they may think this fear I have is a cover for a deep hatred of children
And then they tell me that I’ll feel that it’s worth it in the end
But the one who says this is the one who will never feel this
Who will never know this
Who can drink coffee whilst an infant attempts to force its way out into the world
Taking my identity with it
And some doctor shoves their fingers up me
Whilst I spread my legs
And I wonder when it became customary for the doctor to start poking my insides
When surely our male centred world could have given us the courtesy of
Finally coming up with a tool that can do this
And they laugh
Oh how they laugh
Like I’ve made some poorly timed joke for their amusement
Like my horror is funny
Like tocophobia is something I made up
From trawling the internet and they say
Does it even exist?
Surely the fear is not irrational?
But they don't see the visions inside my head
Where I want to be sick
Where everything I hate occurs at once
And they remind me,
Again,
That everyone goes through this.
But not everyone
Not the half of the population
Who tell me I'll be fine
And the other half they do make it
You're right there.
But maybe they are braver than I am
Maybe they are stronger than me
Or maybe they don't feel they have the choice
Or much simpler.
They just don't fear pain quite like me.
Maybe pain is bad but children are better
And whilst I understand that thinking
Whilst I get what you mean
And whilst I want a child so badly,
Now
At the ripe old age of 22
No child feels worth losing it all for
Is worth the deformation of my body
Is worth my husband turning away
Lying through his teeth that he can't notice a difference
That the now gaping hole, scarred with stitches and hasty repairs that burnt as they tried to put back together the life I will never have back again,
Is the same as before?
That my stomach lined and stretched, that too has done its best to spring back
Like it was shown to do in all the adverts of women who were never fat to begin with, is lined with bravery? That I should be
Proud?
Proud of what? Not dying?
Or perhaps proud that I shit the bed without realising, or didn't flinch when I not only had to push out a child but a placenta, that gives me nothing but repulsion,
Proud maybe that I have two less stitches than someone else I knew
Proud that I fulfilled my role as a woman
Proud that I screamed and held my husbands hand but did not break his fingers
Proud that my labour was not 72 hours.
No.
You see you don't see these visions that plague me when birth is mentioned
That pregnancy is like being told you'll experience torture.
And there they go again.
They laugh again.
Assuring me that when I get pregnant I will be thrilled
That I won't think of that.
But I already have.
And so,
Seeing their patronising looks
Their faintly mocking eyes,
I stop talking
I smile politely and pretend that this conversation didn't hurt me, that it's fine.
That the night I cried over the fear that this fear of mine may be too great to contemplate children
That I could break someone's heart by saying I just can't do this
That the fear of having children is a rock and a hard place because I already love someone, and they want a family and I want one too
Didn't happen
But the suffering I will have to endure in order to achieve that is terrifying
And makes me resentful
That the love of my life
Will never have to experience what is classed as
The worst pain in the world.