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Ode to my Ovary
No one heard the screams but me…
Agonizingly begging for life,
Their turn on the turnstile of ovulation,
Even if unfertilized.
All the doctor said was that there was a growth, benign it seems, on my left ovary.
I heard him. My husband heard him.
But only I heard the bone-chilling pleas.
My femininity pleading like murder victims in slash films.
Mind racing with inquiries.
What did I do to cause this?
Was it hurt internalized, held on to for too long that had irritated the tissue?
The seed of so many undeserving lovers missing the mark coating part of my womanhood 5cms thick?
All those years with permed hair when I was too young to defy it? My preciousness 5 times ripped from me?
Fighting my mother for child’s custody?
I thought back on the things I had endured.
What others call strength that was merely suffrage cloaked and squelched silent because my experiences were drenched in taboos.
They had all convened in a central location, causing pain unrelenting.
A few simple surgeries would do it.
More hormones could regulate.
Simple fixes to an otherwise painstaking reality. But, I heard the screams.
At puberty I learned what made me different from boys.
Took pride in my ability to create and incubate life.
Accepted my monthly curse as Godly fashioning for the trials of vagina-born existence.
And now… screams.
No, I had no plans of using them again
But they are still mine.
And I wanted them, intact, as supple and ready as they were in my youth.
A mark of age, a mark of pain, a common thing.
Women have these issues all the time.
Women, the mothers of creation, carriers of generations within our beings, know, that every month, from the moment of first menstrual bleed, their ability to bring forth life is depleting.
Taught not to cry.
Never to complain.
Accept our lot in life and what is issued to us at the hands of a good man… have these issues all the time.
This is just another rite of passage, I suppose.
I have reached another female plateau…
And the screams… are war cries of the sisters who have…
Had these issues all the time…
Welcoming me home…
© 2014 Joi Miner
Hi. My name is Jamesha (Joi Miner) Henderson. I am a wife and mother of two beautiful, vibrant, inspiring little girls, Qadira and Phoenix. I am a poet and activist who works with sexual assault and domestic abuse survivors. I also work a great deal in my community writing, performing, and teaching poetry as a basic life skill that can assist with everything from coping with life’s woes to finding oneself. I am a high school dropout who is now a Junior in college getting my degree in Creative Writing/English at Southern New Hampshire University online (because I cannot expect my children to further their education if I do not lead by example.)
A month ago, I became very ill. I found out that I have gall stones and a 5cm large cyst on my left ovary. I have been paying for insurance through my job but found out that they will not cover the cost for the surgery to have this cyst removed. The only option that I have is to get my tubes tied and get the ovary removed then (because my insurance will cover that procedure). I am 32 years old and, although my husband and I have chosen not to have children at this point (so that we can prepare the ones that we have for a bright future), I am not ready to say goodbye to that possibility altogether.
I am a very proud woman, so, this is difficult for me. I am usually the one to help. The one that would offer the shirt off of my back if you need it, even if it’s cold outside. But, we all need help. So, I am humbling myself to ask for it. The procedure is outpatient, but that is still costly. I work from home so I do not plan to miss any work, as I will be scheduling the procedure for my off day. If you can find it in your heart to spare anything to help me pay for this, it will be greatly appreciated.
Thank you for even viewing this page.