I'm broken

"Why can't you have kids?"
"Because I'm broken."

That's what I want to say, but it tends to make people uncomfortable. So I launch into a long drawn out speech about how there is no definitive answer. It's not that I can't get pregnant, it's that I haven't, blah blah blah. I have some broken parts.

Some really irritating, underachieving parts.

For years I would wait every month for my "lady friend". Every month she would come faithfully to visit me, even when I didn't want her around. And every month I would feel broken all over again.

I donated my body to science (not really, but it felt like it). I peed on many sticks. Ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, and any other pee-on-it test there was. I was poked and prodded, much like a pin cushion. And internal ultrasounds - not fun, ever. Especially when your ovaries are in the wrong places.

All this confirmed that I was broken.

My insides don't work. I don't have eggs that fertilize. I don't have a uterus that holds a baby.

But I do have ears to hear my kids laugh. I do have eyes to watch them grow. I do have lips to kiss their faces off. I do have arms to hold them tight. I do have a heart that smiles when they yell "mommy". And I do have two babies that I wouldn't trade for all the unbroken parts in the world.

My girlie parts are broken.
My mommy parts are not.