Trigger, trigger…


The gnawing chasm of infertility was awakened tonight, while online. It woke up, yawned wide, and threatens to consume me whole. In my resentment, I remembered this piece I wrote for a writing class. It’s about the day I got that final lab test result phone call where I found out that my ovaries decided to retire to Boca Raton already. The ticking in all of my writing refers to my mechanical Mitral valve. My heart is a clock ticking out all my remaining moments, not just a beat to walk to anymore.

Beginning – Spark

Tick, tick, ticking away, her heart ticked hard and loud behind her healed ribs. Shock flowed out from the center of her twisted gut and spread up and out to all distant corners of her body as she listened to the Doctor speak those words. Those awful words. Rose stood in the parking lot under a sunny sky wiped clean of clouds by the wind while the words revealed that it was too late, her levels too low. Darkened clouds rumbled from along the edge of her thoughts, threatening to drown her in an overcast mind. Grief struck ground first, followed by despair’s mighty roar. The fantasy that she had maintained for at least a year now, often ballooned by hope, just deflated in the blink of an eye. It had all come to this. Now. Not yesterday, not before the doctor appointments, the tests, the hopes, the dreams, the fears…

Those fears were real. Aged 36, Rose’s fertility was no longer ripe for the picking. She may have looked young still for her age, but her ovaries had aged considerably. The doctor was not certain as to why, as it could be any number of things related to her age, stress levels, medication, or her health conditions. But the why did not really matter. Not that much. The answer remained the same: it was too late. Levels were undetectable. The beginning of a little family, just one child to call their own, had stopped before it could even start. The spark that held so much promise in its flicker quickly vanished. Despite the sun shining brightly overhead, Rose was left in darkness, all encompassing.

One thought on “Trigger, trigger…

  1. Rick Phillips

    I am so moved. Thank you for writing this. My mom might have written this about herself. She had me of course, but she wanted more and was unable. I think she might have said these things many times.


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