By: Rev. Venida C. Rodman Jenkins

She -- touched -- my -- stomach.

Without provocation, without my consent, and clearly without thinking, she actually placed her thumb, index, middle, ring and pinky fingers on my lower abdomen. She approached me by asking, “Is everything okay?” And then she made things not OK. I wasn’t bothering her. I was minding my own business with Todd, Mom and Dad, mindlessly meandering through the lovely lobby of my hotel.

The Marriott at Glenpointe in Teaneck was the site of my prom. It is where my senior class at Teaneck High School hosted its signature pre-dance show-off on a partly rainy night. We paraded our stylish wears down the red carpet with our families, friends and the enter community cheering us on with so much enthusiasm, affirmation, and love.

The Glenpointe is where my sister -- the first of us four girls -- held her joyous and unforgettable wedding reception over two decades ago.

The Glenpointe is where I’ve praised the Lord during worship services and developed ministerial skills during leadership conferences.

This hotel is in my hometown, my safe, empowered, and sacred space. The land which was first occupied by reservations of indigenous peoples, tribes of the Leni Lenape led by the powerful Chief Oratam.

Anyway... on that day... Todd and I felt like super stars. We were welcomed like VIPs and given the best upgrade ever... the Presidential Suite! (Thank God for influential friends!)

So there we were in that lobby feeling so good.

Double dating again, attempting to bond and banter over nothing, biding the time until a function kicked off later than night.

As fate would have it, we ran into someone we knew, the one who rendered me stunned and speechless when she -- touched -- my -- stomach. She asked if there was “something going on in there.”

“Um,” I stuttered. “I had pizza earlier?”

I didn’t know what to say, and it was so incredibly surreal. I could have said that my period was on the way, and that I was bloated -- I could have said a few other things! Coulda, woulda, shoulda...

Let’s be clear, just for the record, she’s not my doctor or any type of medical practitioner. We’re not friends. I don’t know her like that. And even if we were (friends), and even if I did (know her like that), she did NOT have the right to touch -- my -- stomach. This is my body, my core, my center, my womb.

You see right after Todd and I got married, it was lights...cameras... my womb! There she was, always center stage, and whether she liked it or not, the star of the show. Because after all -- first comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes... you know... baby girl who needs milk, diapers, play dates and college tuition.

I think people thought they could actually will me to be pregnant. Like by osmosis, all they had to do was stare hard enough or ask if I was expecting enough for me to actually be pregnant. I don’t know... maybe it was payback for that one time when I congratulated someone for being pregnant – and they had gained some weight.

All I know is that with certain individuals, and in certain situations, people seem to feel unsettled, uncomfortable or curious with Todd and I being child-free. I presume that they assume we should be unhappy, sad or not completely fulfilled since we have not biologically produced children. I think that they think something’s wrong with us, or because of sexism, something’s wrong with me, as a woman. Sometimes it comes up when I’m asked if we’ve considered adoption. They’ve said, “you know when people adopt, they usually get pregnant.”

I experience it when we are asked if our 15 nieces and nephews, as well as eight godchildren are really enough.

Our doctor talked to us about options after we miscarried, including In vitro fertilization (IVF). She also discussed the societal expectations to have children, particularly in Connecticut. Todd and I talked, prayed, and actually felt comfortable and at peace with deciding not to have children. We felt a little strange because we didn’t feel sad or bad; however, we believed that God would allow our quality of life to be rich even without children.

My truth -- Venida’s truth -- is this... having God in my life is more than enough, and after living over half a century on this beautiful earth, I am fully assured that the fruit of my womb is blessed. I’ve reclaimed what it means to conceive. I’ve re-envisioned the term expecting. I’ve reimagined the concept of giving birth. As I continue to pursue my purpose, I hope that everything going on in my life and heart will grow to full maturity and leave a legacy of joy, peace, and love for everyone.

Yes indeed, she -- touched -- my stomach, and that touch led me here.