slow fertility
on loving a body as she takes her sweet time
I’ve long cringed at the word “infertile.”
In fact, I hate it.
A few years ago, while on retreat with dear friends, one of my loves looked at me, tears in both our eyes, and affirmed that whether I had children or not, I was leading a fertile life. I understood her meaning instantly. Her words weren’t a consolation but an affirmation of truth, a statement of fact. Fertility has many faces. There are countless ways to rear young, to bear fruit, and to sustain others. So I hold my friend’s words close. Her loving wisdom has carried me.
