Reviewed by Princess Gonzales
Twelve Days From Transfer
by Eleanor Kedney
3: A Taos Press
ISBN: 978-1-7370560-8-9, March 2024, Paperback, $26,
Twelve Days From Transfer is a thoughtful, cathartic collection based on Kedney’s experience with her own infertility. The intention for these poems was to help Kedney and also to help “other women understand the grief associated with this specific kind of loss” [95]. The loss of what is heavily entwined with female identity and womanhood, the ability of birth and the concept of feminine fertility associated with the latter.
Alongside the grief of infertility, Kedney delves into the process of infertility treatments as well as the hope for these treatments to be successful. The failure of the treatment is not the fault of the woman, their partner, the egg, or the doctor—it’s the body. The body of the woman who desires fertility. A body not listening to the one who lives within it. A body that will be judged for not performing its perceived biological function. This is captured quite poignantly in the poem “Six Gray Moons on a Screen” and its fourth stanza:
They said, There’s always adoption.
They said, God has a plan.
They said, It’ll happen.
Trust me, you’re lucky you don’t have kids.
They said, Hang in there.
They said, Focus on your career.
My husband just looks at me, and I get pregnant.
They said, Just relax; go on vacation.
Maybe you weren’t meant to have kids.
They said, You’ve got plenty of time.
They said, You can try IVF again.
It’s not the end of the world.
They said. They said
everything, but, sorry. [19]
These common phrases range from encouragement to slight condescension, and yet throughout many of these platitudes dance around the heart of the conversation, the loss. These responses are grounded in reality as each one can be freely imagined as words that have been said to someone trying. How does one respond to a loss such as this? What will best aid the woman in her journey towards fertility in this moment: a joke, an empty platitude, or unsolicited advice? Is it that hard to fathom infertility as a loss? Whether it’s the fault of the body or the perception that it’s a type of schadenfreude reflecting on its owner doesn’t matter. Throughout this collection, infertility is a loss of bodily function. Each failed attempt is equated to a loss of a future.
Being able to conceive signals to society the performance of a type of womanhood a female can pursue without judgement. This can be compared to women who are childless, and who negatively perceived in another piece of the Kedney’s collection “No Reply”:
Women who didn’t know we were trying
told me my clock was ticking.
I was selfish, I’d be sorry.
you’ll want them later.
motherhood is the best joy in life. [44]
The irony of being shamed by other women for being childless when you’re undergoing treatment so you can rectify it. This poem highlights the popular perceptions of women who are either voluntary childless or involuntary, while parroting the unfortunate reality of female fertility often said to those in their early twenties and those nearing their thirties or later: your fertility is limited. A biological inequity to the female body. An implied statement in Kedney’s poems that never holds malice whatsoever to its male counterpart, which would have definitely derailed this collection’s focus of empathic catharsis. Her personal experience is the vessel and the basis of this collection, allowing a glimpse into a view of an untraditional path to motherhood.
This untraditional path is portrayed in several poems depicting her relationship with Katta Saritha and Challa Sri Ram, two individuals Kedney has become mother to during a visit in India. In these series of poems that are scattered throughout the collection, Kedney explores the relationship she has with Saritha and Sri Ram. Both acknowledge her as mother, which eases the loss within her. This is a representation of motherhood not always being the relationship of a mother and the child she birthed, it can be the relationship between a mother figure and a loved one. Kedney unravels a path to motherhood this way in these prose poems featuring her two children. One such as “Random Field Stones…” where Kedney laments:
I didn’t hold and feed Siri Ram as an infant, laugh with him as a small child, teach him to share a piece of cake with another, marvel when a butterfly lands on one’s arm, or unwrap his early teenage years. [82]
She may have come upon his life later, however, there is no denying the love she has for Siri Ram. He may not be her biological child, yet their relationship is very much of a mother doting on her son. This is untraditional motherhood is also reflected in another poem “Women in Translation” featuring Saritha and Saritha’s biological mother Laxmi, where Kedney is video calling Saritha:
Every time I call her, she asks me if I’ve called my mom. She thinks you are a goddess for always taking care of me. I shift my weight center in my chair, stare at Laxmi. A goddess is linked to literal or metaphorical pregnancy. [85]
Kedney is accepted into Katta family not as a family friend or aunt, she has become another mother to Saritha. And there is no tension between Laxmi and Kedney. Instead, Laxmi is grateful for Kedney’s presence in her daughter’s life that she likens Kedney to a goddess. Motherhood isn’t gatekept, motherhood is shared. This contrasts with the perception others may view Kedney as selfish for not having children of her own. This collection represents the many facets of her, one being she is an individual with an immense capacity to love.
This collection is wonderfully vast with its symbolism and imagery that will surely challenge readers to think about infertility differently. Kedney’s intention of her work being a vessel for other woman to understand infertility’s emotional and psychological impact is enlightening, especially as I am a young woman in her twenties—infertility hasn’t crossed my mind yet. I appreciate this intimate portrait of an issue a subset of women live through, and would highly recommend to anyone, not just to women who are on their own journeys with infertility.
About the interviewer: Princess Gonzales is an English undergraduate student from San Diego State University. Of course she loves reading, because if she didn’t why wouldn’t she be writing these reviews? An enjoyer of the weird and experimental—the ones where explaining the narrative to a friend makes them question your sanity—to the cozy and cliché, she hopes to one day to bring the same enjoyment to readers of her own work. For now she’s working to find her place in the small, yet varied world of the publishing industry.