EricaIsotta

It's risky to talk about pregnancy.

That's why I'm starting
this way, by warning you.

There are women who want to get pregnant,

and unfortunately they can't;

others who, on the other hand,
get pregnant unintentionally.

It is estimated that about 50%
of pregnancies are unplanned.

Other times, pregnancy

is the traumatic result of sexual assault.

Other times again,
a couple has just finished

the last assisted fertilization cycle
that they could afford.

When I speak of pregnancy,

I speak not only to women,
but also to men.

Suppose a person has to, wants to

or even can conceive children

on the pure basis of her gender

is intrusive and assuming.

25% of pregnancies end with a miscarriage.

One woman out of four -
one couple, out of four.

This means,

every time we see three couples
announcing a pregnancy on social media,

there's a person at home,
a woman, a couple,

who couldn't make that same announcement.

When we mourn,

we used to talk about it with our family,

with our loved ones,
with our friends, even on social media.

This allows us to receive
the support we need

to overcome a traumatic event.

However, this does not apply
to miscarriages.

Abortion remains a solitary,
unconfessable event,

where women and couples
are isolated from the "12-week rule".

Let me introduce again: I'm Erika,
and last year I lost a child.

Talking about miscarriages

it's difficult, it's personal and sad;

but it's not rare, or unnatural.

When, last year, I found

that my pregnancy would not be successful,

I hated myself for not talking
to anyone about it.

I had to call my parents, my friends,

and announce: I was pregnant;
I no longer am.

This of course complicates
the conversation,

because I felt invisible,
not enough, inadequate.

How many other women
have felt that way, like me?

Precisely because you're isolated
from this "12-week rule."

Do you know it?

According to the 12-week rule,

what a woman, a couple should do

is to announce pregnancy

only at the end
of the 12th week of gestation,

when pregnancy is out of danger,

and the risk of miscarriage drops.

Warning: it does not zero!
But it drops dramatically.

I like to include this 12-week rule

in what I call "Fake Life Rules."

Fake life rules are those lies

we tell each other, and grow up with,
believing that they are true.

Some examples?

Go to university; graduate;
find the right person;

get married; make children; and so on.

Every generation has its own.

Within these rules
there's also a whole series of rules

that affect women and the female reality.

You don't expect a woman
to talk about being a woman,

biologically speaking:

he doesn't expect us to talk
about abortions or menstruation and so on.

A woman - today, but also in the past -

faces several challenges:
social, economic and health.

When these challenges intersect,

what she can do is find
an adverse social environment.

And what happens?

That even pregnancy becomes a challenge.

Pregnancy becomes a place
to represent yourself:

Am I worthy? Who am I?

But what if a woman doesn't want a child?

What if a couple doesn't want a child?

What happens,

when a person tells us
she doesn't want to have a child?

Tipically, we all begin to ask: why?

Why, then, don't we ask

to all those people
who want to be parents,

or who already are,

why do they want to be,

as much as we ask people
who don't want to be

why they don't want to?

We live in a performance society,
where only results matters:

the job we work, how much we make,

what school we attended,

how well we graduated from high school.

It all seems so... fake;

it almost seems that we have to comply

with the standards
of the Happy Family tv ad.

Isn't that right?

And what happens when even a child
becomes a goal to achieve,

when even that son comes back

on the list of fake life rules
that we need to follow?

That we feel a failure,
that we feel inadequate,

we feel invisible, we don't feel up to it.

It was therapeutic for me

to share my experience of miscarriage;

and above all to understand
that there are different versions,

that every person has their own narrative.

To free us from oppressions, taboos,

what we have to do, maybe,

is just accepting that each person
has their own story to tell,

whatever it is;

and above all, stereotypes
should be droppped.

How can we break down stereotypes?

By listening.

Accepting that every person
can tell us their own story,

making others less invisible.

And most importantly, accept

that there is not a single way
to be a mother, and a woman.

Thank you.