I'm blissfully not writing anything. Just doing a lot of reading and hopefully some thinking as well.

When you talk about infertility you're already using a land-based metaphor - a woman's body compared to property, to be considered fruitful or barren. And estate encompasses both legacy and landscape. Think of Emerson, referring to his son's death as the loss of a beautiful estate.

Part of my reaction to my diagnosis of infertility was deeply sarcastic and critical, part of it was morbid, part of it was numb, part of it was neurotic and desperate. To mush all of those notes together would cancel them out. I ended up just trying to keep them as separate as possible.