Dear womb, I want to apologise for all of the tears last night. Let me explain what happened. My partner and I found ourselves in a bit of a situation. The condom broke. I feel the need to explain myself because you have a purpose and I do not want you to think that I do not have utmost respect for that purpose and your amazing power.
I cried not because I was sad or angry with you or my partner for that matter. I cried because having sex is so beautiful and I love it so much. To be honest it is probably one of my favourite things. But having babies does not excite me in any way. Not right now at least.
Womb, I chose a long time ago now, to look after you and put you first, so I stopped pumping chemicals into my body that would harm and alter you. This choice came with risks because patriarchy is real (let’s not even go there). That is a long conversation for another day when I am less teary.
Basically, I chose to allow you to rule me and tell me what you need to be happy. And then, when I was doing everything that you said you wanted and everything that I know is needed and safe, the f €”&$*€!g condom broke.
I cried because I really hope that there is no baby slowly being baked inside you. I don’t have the strength right now to watch my body change shape without my consent. I am really enjoying gaining weight and muscle and being able to shape myself depending on what I need my body for.
I cried because I am in love with myself, and falling more deeply in love with you and everything that inhabits my insides. I am learning to listen to you and really enjoying all of the powerful things that you say. I am learning and I am not ready to stop just yet.
I am learning in so many ways on so many platforms. Learning academically, learning in my interpersonal relationships, learning as a black person in this crazy country that I call home, learning as a woman in this modern, yet somehow backwards society. I am learning in my romantic life, social life, family life and professional life.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand that if there was to be a peanut sized human growing inside me, I understand that this too would be a time of learning, but I am not ready. It’s kind of like my love and want for body scarring. I know that I want it one day and I will prepare myself for that because I understand that once the scars have been sliced into my flesh, it is forever. I acknowledge this and will take the time to educate myself on this too. You see. A peanut baby is like body scarring, forever. Both need preparation and time. In my mind, at least.
Dear womb, I can not lie to you. You know me the best of all. I also cried because we both know that I could have a peanut in you and if I was honest with myself I would be elated. I would love a little peanut in you, I would dance all day, do yoga, wear dungarees and crop tops and grow a massive afro.
I would start writing a book and painting and hosting more talks on how and why diversity in popular South African spaces is so incredibly necessary. I would study until I could no longer see my feet or the steering wheel of the car. I would dance until I could no longer get up from a squat and I would sew matching clothes for me, daddy and our peanut. Eeew, Jesus. What is happening to me!?
Womb, this is crazy. I don’t want anything in you taking up my blood and food supply. What is this nonsense? What is happening to my brain. Is this what 28 feels like? Womb, will we go to war against each other? You saying, “Yes” and Brain saying, “No.” I want you to know dear Womb, that I love you but I can’t listen to these things that you are saying.
When I hold babies or see babies you start making me feel things. I cried last night because you are confusing me and I am not very good at being confused. I find it frightening. I want to let you that we are a tream Womb, we are in this together, it’s not all about you. I am waiting for my period. If it doesn’t come I’ll be really angry with you.