Menopause is a hurricane that strikes women in their forties and fifties. Imagine my horror when the gynecologist said it would hit me after two years! 34 is too young for menopause, right? Oh well. I did see it coming.
Before the diagnosis, I did a fair amount of research, and my symptoms indicated that menopause was around the corner. I initially attributed everything to stress and hoped time would fix things. Months of irregular periods, hot flashes, vaginal dryness, and mood swings compelled me to consult a gynecologist. When I told her about my issues, she said that blood tests and transvaginal sonography would reveal the cause.
She also assured me that I was too young to think about menopause; I probably had PCOD instead.
A few days later, after she saw my blood test and sonography reports, she said it was indeed early menopause. After two years, my periods will end forever. I believed I could handle this diagnosis as I had no interest in raising kids. But I was wrong. It was unfair to have the choice to procreate taken from me, and I felt dizzy after her declaration.
The unprofessional gynecologist was also responsible for my disturbed mental state. Instead of being kind, she grimly advised me to conceive right away because I had little time. Her thoughtless words took me aback. She assumed I had a partner because how can a 32-year-old woman be single? All partnered ladies want to have a baby, or else they are abnormal.
I was upset but didn’t want her to know. Plus, I had to stand up for women like me. So I kept a poker face and remarked: Who is having babies nowadays? How irresponsible!
On my way home, I hoped nobody else would be so insensitive. If I knew then what I know now, I would have had zero expectations. All the people in my life reacted inappropriately.
My mother, who had accompanied me, looked at me with what I suspected was shock and disbelief. After all, no cautious single woman can love and trust a man enough to have his baby in two years. When I asked her why she was silent, she confirmed my suspicion. It took me a while to convince her I was fine as I believed in the child-free lifestyle.
Of course, it was a half-truth at the time. I was dazed and unhappy. The diagnosis made me feel old and unfeminine. It was as if I was less worthy as a woman because I would soon lose the God-like ability to give birth. Mothers are the rare breed of women valued and respected in India.
The next day, I turned to Google for answers. Within an hour, I learned all about the “horrors” of menopause. I texted my best friend that I needed to chat with her immediately. She helped me calm down by rationalizing that I had nothing to stress about because I had no desire to be a mother. Plus, it would be amazing to no longer deal with the hassle of periods.
I felt better until she warned me that the only thing I needed to do was take better care of my skin. I was likely to age faster once my periods ended. Hearing this from a hardcore feminist was a letdown. She had internalized the global compulsion that women must appear youthful to be desirable. Worse, I had internalized it too. I often get compliments for looking young; they make me feel beautiful.
After our conversation, I took a mental health day to research affordable anti-aging products. I only knew of and used sunscreen to prevent skin cancer and look young. Soon, I was armed with Vitamin C and hyaluronic acid serums to keep my skin wrinkle-free.
But the worst was yet to come. After I broke the news to my older sister, she said there must be a cure. My bond with her baby made her think I wanted to be a mother in the future. She believed this even though I often told her I only wanted to be a loving aunt. When we had a parenting-related argument a few days later, she said I would never get how hard it is to be a mom. Her cruel words cut me to the quick. While we have never been close, this was too low a blow from her. Plus, what kind of person uses infertility as a jibe?
Approximately two weeks later, I was ready to write about my diagnosis. I journaled everything I could, like others’ reactions and how they made me feel. In the end, society was the main villain. When it comes to women, society is unabashedly nosy and judgmental. The overturning of the Roe v. Wade judgment in June is proof of the same.
Wrinkles and gray hair make a woman undesirable. Those who are unable to give birth are not real women. Motherhood is a gift, and rejecting it is akin to turning away from God. Sexist beliefs like these have been around for so long that we are unaware they also live in our subconscious minds.
I vowed to unlearn this patriarchal conditioning right away. To do so, I added these statements to my daily affirmations:
- Being unable to have kids does not make me unfeminine. Motherhood is a personal choice, not an obligation or compulsion.
- There is a lot more to me than a youthful appearance. Aging is normal and natural, and I will accept it with grace.
- I do not want to birth an innocent in this terrible world, and a child will not be my legacy. Good deeds, making memories with loved ones, and my writing will be my legacy.
Overall, I have made peace with my early menopause diagnosis. It opened my eyes to not only patriarchal conditioning but also internalized ageism. And for that, I am wiser today.
Susan Kaur is a writer based in India.
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