Seventeenth.

“Don't you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn't developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see.”-Douglas Adams

So it is with heavy heart that I announce I am infertile. My polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) is so rampant. I had an ultrasound a week ago or so, and my right ovary is so overrun with cysts and you can’t see the ovary beneath them.

I have a daughter. She is almost six. So while my biological clock is no longer ticking as I approach my 26^th birthday, I am still in mourning for the future. I wanted my little one to have siblings. Granted, she will probably have some through her father. Still, I wanted to have my own family with her.

Spiritually, I am lamenting the unreliability of my menstrual cycle. As a pagan and Goddess-worshiper, I grieve for the loss of my moontime. As a woman who has a passion for women’s spirituality and women’s sexuality, I feel that the loss of a regular moontime is symbolic of my inability to regulate my life. My entire life is unpredictable. My job, my ability to make money, my future. As someone with bipolar disorder, routine can make all the difference in the world. And I seem to be fighting it.

Overall, my mood is one of heartbreak. There is one shining light in this dark place that I have found myself, but I cannot reveal it here just quite yet.

The moon is waning. I will be banishing this darkness on the new moon with a ritual bath and devastatingly thorough housecleaning and smudging. On the full moon, I will be asking the Goddess for help finding myself, my femininity, my wild woman.

At least I don’t feel that I am alone.