Party of One

There are some things in life that I think people just can't understand unless they've lived them. You can't know what it's like to be different race, a member of the opposite sex, or an infertile woman, unless you are. You may be able to relate to being, or think you're sure of what it must entail, but you simply can't know what it's like.

Case in point: Chuck E. Cheese Pizza - an overwhelming venue on the best of days. Nonetheless, it was the bistro de jour for a lunch recently with several of my girlfriends. All of them have children, so it was a logical choice. They all know I'm infertile, and to mitigate the choice of a kid-centric spot for lunch they decided not to let me pay for my meal. Instead, my $20 was turned down with the following statement:

You aren't worth anything. It's just you.

Now, normally the thought of a free lunch is quite appealing. Free pizza? Even better. As an infertile woman, however, this innocuous statement glanced off my cheek just as squarely as if my friend had stuck out her fist. I know what she meant. But what she said got me to thinking - is our value as adults reduced to a measure of the little people we've produced? And if so, if I never become a parent, biological or otherwise, do I cease to exist? What if I only fulfill alternate roles in life outside of parenthood? Does being a wife, a writer, a daughter, an artist hold equal weight to changing diapers, attending soccer games and kissing away scabbed knees?

Before you answer what you think is right - consider this. You won't ever know. You can't, unless you've lived the other scenario. As that scale tips precariously ask yourself - If it were possible to carefully measure each side, would you be defined by the people you love or by those who love you? Either way it's just you in the center. Surrounded by all the worth in the world.