Miranda The Mermaid’s (AKA Fishtail’s) Fishy Tale
It is a very poignant and reflective time for Fishtail, AKA Miranda The Mermaid. Tomorrow is the 10th Anniversary of my Dad’s death and on 29th of this month this Piscean’s womb is being removed. On the flip side, on January 1st 2015, miranda leslau pr is 15: ‘15 in 15’. All are milestones in the circle of (my) life; beginnings, ends and next chapters.
I have always had problems with my womb, possibly linked to having been sexually abused and raped as a young girl (shock horror, to reveal such things, B(l)OG off, people). I should have had a hysterectomy a long time ago but I held out… hopeful that my time would come. It didn’t and ‘The Adjustment Bureau’ effect kicked in.
Now, after having Cancer this year, I can’t freeze my eggs (post-iodine chemo) and womb removal is the only option. My freedom and choice have been taken away from me. And I am big on freedom and choice, hence why I have worked for myself for the last 15 years. I am not very good at following rules.
Many people are asking me how I feel… I always wanted a big family, a husband and to be a mum to lots of children. I guess it is the antithesis to the life I had. I had a fantasy in my head of a big house, with me baking bread and tendering an organic vegetable garden. This never happened, sadly. Some may say we create our own destiny. In this case, I hope not. I had reality to deal with.
Yes I can adopt but I won’t do it on my own. Yes, I will have a better of quality of life post-op and yes, my destiny wasn’t to carry a child, full-term. But, my fundamental life force still feels like I have missed out in some way. I don’t have a legacy or a DNA reflection of who I am and what I have to share with another little person and the Universe.
Of course, whilst rushing around (as we all do) chasing my (fish)tail during my 20’s and 30’s, I never considered where I would or could be today, in 2014. But as I approach 45 and having been through the year from hell, I find myself crying at the sight of a cute baby smiling at me. I never thought I would be emotional about not being able to have a baby. I am angry, with myself mainly. But this won’t change anything.
I wasn’t scared about Cancer (other than never seeing my dogs again) and very little frightens me about Life or Death but this experience hanging over my head (and tail) does scare me. It takes me into an unknown, vulnerable space: the maternal female energy that makes us human(e). And I am also reminded of the Legacy of my vocal cord and airway damage, being deemed ‘high risk’ as a patient on the operating table. I would scream but I physically can’t.
And whilst I roll my eyes when some ‘smug’ parents (homage to Bridget Jones, here) tell me I will never feel fulfilled or worthy unless I have a child and that I have no responsibility without a husband or children, they seem to forget that my offspring are simply different: mine have four legs and are called miranda leslau pr’s clients.
My challenge lies in the unknown, out of my control. I don’t know how I am going to feel, either physically or emotionally. I could potentially drive myself mad in the process. So I stop. I look at up the glorious sunshine and give thanks for what I have, not what I don’t have. My legacy is what my Dad (and Mum) taught me, as well as how I have helped 100’s if not 1000’s of other people’s lives and businesses. I also saved two rescue dogs’ lives. I am alive, I am Cancer-free.
So why does any of this matter? Well, I guess my tale is simply an umbilical cord shaded alert to each and every one of us. Don’t wait to do things. Life sometimes lays paving stones for us, the shape of which is out of our due control. However, our control does lie in where and how we choose to tread as well as the shoes we wear. In my case, the shoes are high-heeled black patent stilettoes. I’ll start off with Hopscotch and break into a mean disco repertoire with a few of MJ’s ‘Thriller’ dance moves, leading me right up to the sandy shore. I’ll then take off my shoes, affix my pink Mermaid’s tail and return to my Creator for the next Chapter in this Fishtail’s tale.