This is a monologue about a young woman who made the decision to remove her womb after being diagnosed with cervical cancer, 6 years prior. She is sat in her home she shares with her boyfriend, holding a mug of coffee while she stares absentmindedly into the distance (The audience).
I remember the moment the doctor told me I had cervical cancer; my first thought was I’m going to die. Then they told me it hadn’t spread too much, they told me I could have my womb removed, among other options. It was the best option for my condition so I immediately said yes. I didn’t want to die. It was human survival instincts kicking in I told myself. I told myself this over and over as the Doctor outlined the risks and merits, the before and after. Running up to the surgery I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing, about what I would lose. It was a kind of self-denial that was what the therapist told. 2 weeks later and my womb was gone. When I woke and the drugs finally wore off I noticed the feeling that something was missing. I was 21 at the time, had my whole life ahead of me, but had never thought about the long term. Never seeing past tomorrow.
Now, aged 26, I regret my decision. There had been other options. They would have been more difficult, less chance of success but I would still have a womb. Still have the ability to have a child. The ability to create such a precious being that they became your world. I had seen it, seen my friends create families of their own. They loved their children with such burning passion that it made my heart arch that I would never feel the same. I think about what they would look like, how many I would have, if they were a boy or a girl. Single, twin, triplet! They would be beautiful, two girls, one boy. The boy would have my blue eyes but his father black hair and he would be sporty. The girls would be twins, identical, with ginger hair and freckles and delightful blue eyes. (She smiles, though it slowly fades) The thought makes me happy for a moment until I realised… I killed them. I wiped them from existence I moment I decided to remove my womb. I killed my babies, killed them! (She sobs, quiet muttering to her non-existent children) I’m sorry, so sorry.
My therapist tells me I need to move on, come to term with my lost otherwise I won’t get better. My therapist tells me this every time but I just… I can’t.