My friend Kath had a baby last week, after her second round of IVF.
Five attempts for me. I quickened each time but never made it to full term.
Miscarriage. Sounds like something to do with trains, not something to do with death.
Fibroids, cysts, and a malignant tumour.
They took out the cot and left the playpen.
A complete hysterectomy, no more babies, and no more hysteria.
I find little to laugh about these days.
Because I am empty. Barren. A non-woman.
Well, half a woman.
I still have my tits.
From: Friday Flash Fiction