I was diagnosed with IDC (infiltrating ductal carcinoma) in 2011. While relatively speaking this is an eminently curable form of breast cancer, it is not without its costs. After two rounds of surgery to remove the tumor and establish clear margins, I underwent four rounds of chemotherapy, followed by 35 radiation treatments. In February of 2012, I began a five year course of the estrogen inhibitor Tamoxifen, effectively throwing my body into menopause a good ten or fifteen years before I had planned on it. I have two beautiful and healthy daughters, for whom I am very grateful and feel profoundly blessed – but in my dreams a third child romped, waiting for the right time to come. Unfortunately, that time will not come now.
As a writer, the only way I can really process the world and my experiences with it is through the written word. As a woman, I value when other women going through difficult situations that resonate with me are brave enough to share their journeys. So while these letters were initially going to be a private working through of my coming to terms with the early loss of my fertility due to medically-induced menopause, I have decided to post them in hopes that they will afford comfort, empathy, validation, support and inspiration to other women suffering – all too often, in silence and privacy – this life altering event.
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Dear Iris Elizabeth,
Today, is February 11, 2012, and marks the beginning of the life that you will never have, save in my imagination.
Blue eyes are recessive. Both my husband and I have them. You would have had blue eyes. And since the two older sisters you will never know have blonde hair, you likely would have been blonde as well. You would have turned heads wherever you went with your bright coloring.
Your name was picked out immediately following the birth of your second sister, because we still had a boy’s name all ready, but after the fight that ensued while we were trying to come up with her name, I decided I wasn’t taking any chances when you came along. “Iris” is the name of one of the most lovely and graceful flowers imaginable, and my favorite. Iris was the Greek goddess of the rainbow, which links you to your Irish roots because of the legend of the pot of Leprechaun gold at the rainbow’s end. It is the name of a wonderful writer, Iris Murdoch, whose books I collect. It is also the title of a song by John Rzeznik, who’s the frontman for a band called the Goo Goo Dolls. The lyrics of this song have carried me through many a rough patch in my life, but I was first attracted to it by the title: Iris. It is a strong, vibrant, alive name, full of beauty – those lovely vowels, that “eye” – sounding “I” at the beginning – I see you through that “Eye/I”, Iris, even though no one else ever will – then, the linking “r” that can be rolled ever-so-slightly in a lilting accent if you desire, the soft but final “s” at the end that can be drawn out or cut short to suit a variety of moods. The song goes as follows:
And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight
And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive
And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
I imagine the song is a bit inappropriate and beyond you for the next eighteen years or so; but at its core, it describes how it feels to be able to take off the mask you wear for the world and just be who you are with someone. That’s something I have struggled with for most of my life, which is why the song resonates so deeply with me. I guess the plus side of all of this, is that you will never have to learn how to hide your true self from the world in order to protect your most fragile and beautiful aspects.
Your middle name is one of my favorite names. It’s a beautiful name: Elizabeth. I had a cousin named Elizabeth; she died long before you were even a consideration, tragically too young. In many ways, she died because of the very issues presented in “Iris”. Your name would have paid homage to that, in a lovely and subtle way. I also had a dear childhood friend named Elizabeth. Her friendship sustained me through very dark times in my life. We don’t stay in contact now, although I gladly would and often think wistfully that we should. It’s sad, that the world is such that people lose one another over the years. I guess in a way, it’s good that you will never know the heartache of losing those you love to time and circumstance. Elizabeth is also the name of one of the most powerful women in history: Queen Elizabeth I, Queen of England, and Ireland, your ancestral homes, and Virginia, where you would have been born. Elizabeth I was known as the Tudor Rose, and roses are, together with irises, my favorite flowers. You would have lived a life filled with irises and roses. I can see the ruffled beauties in your bouquet and smell the fragrant petals scattered before you on your wedding day. I am sure you would only ever have dated and married a man who remembered to bring you roses and irises any old day, just because you liked them.
A Beautiful Iris For You, Iris
This rose, is actually called "Queen Elizabeth". We would have gotten you a dozen of them every year on your birthday. Wouldn't you have felt special to have TWO flowers named after you?
(I’m afraid all this would have caused some sibling rivalry between you and my younger daughter, since pink and purple are her very favorite colors. Oh, how you would have taunted her, to be named after pink and purple flowers! “Well, I’m named after MY grandpa!” She would shout back at you. Then, we would all have to sit down and have a conversation about how special everybody’s name is.)
I guess it is because I am a writer, and probably also because I am a romantic, but I love names that are filled with significance. Your full name is so very special. But in the end, we would have called you, “Bess”, because that is the name of a beautiful blonde little girl in a Louisa May Alcott book I will be reading to your older sisters very soon – and, to you. Because I know you are there, in spirit, dear Iris Elizabeth, even if I can never hold you in person. So when we settle in to read Little Men, you’ll be listening, won’t you, when we get to the part about Bess? Because I’ll be reading that part out loud especially for you.
I loved you before I thought of you, and I miss you without ever knowing you, and I know that you are there, waiting for your time here, even if that time won’t be spent with us, and that is comforting in its own fashion. I hope that you like your name, even if no one but me knows it when you finally do arrive to bless this world with your spirit – wherever, and whenever, and with whomever that is.
I don’t really know what you ought to call me, so let’s just go with my initials to close this missive. I’ll write again soon.
-MARE
