I know a woman who fought against nature, sword against sword and won. She cherished a gigantic dream, so immense, so stubborn, that she would never give up the battle to achieve it.
She marked on the almanac the fertile days. She underwent hundreds of ultrasounds and tests. She also cried, without consolation, in front of the negative pregnancy test, a scene she repeated, month after month, in a cycle that seemed endless.
She held her breath at that painful, invasive test where she thought she would lose her breath, but she took a deep breath and assured the nurse that she was fine, perfect, unbeatable.
She took a lot of pills. She didn't like to talk about it. It hurt too much. She kept it in a corner of her soliloquy, between velvet blankets, preferring to keep quiet. He lived more than a decade of sacrifice, of absolute rest, of feet up, of longing for the second stripe.
She was not even as young as when she started the adventure of expanding the family. But nothing stopped her, not even the vagaries of genetics, much less age.
I know a woman who had a dream and fought for it so hard that fate, embarrassed, had to lower its head.
And when COVID-19 was bringing the world to its knees, she, who was not willing to give up even a little, bet everything on what she thought was utopia.
I know a woman who now lives a whirlwind, who has the first place in the world in the cleaning of snot, who works with her hands and chases her two mischievous elves with her eyes
I know a woman who hardly sleeps, who writes, works and cooks with the same intensity.
Who never complains, for joy peeps out of her exhausted pair of eyes
Everyone admires her. Others, in her place, would have decided to take the most comfortable path: to give up, to hang that old longing in a damp place, to cover it with frustration.
I know a woman who never gives up. A brave woman, who was willing to do anything, even to offer her life, in order to push for the dream of motherhood.
