Creative Writing: Infertile Women

Five other women were here for the weekend, two of them with their partners and the other three alone, like Ariel. The two accompanied women were alone now, anyway, because this particular session was only for the infertile women, a chance to vent in private.
They sat in a circle in the incense-laden room, and the conversation leader – a licensed therapist named Cindy – held up what she referred to as the "talking stick," what looked like a mini totem pole. Like the stick, Cindy was thin and knobby, although she had a warm smile and seemed nice enough. Ariel tried to think positive thoughts.
"If you have the stick, it's your turn to talk and everyone else's turn to listen. The stick is a mark of our respect for one another, a symbol of respect
"I have the stick now, so it's my turn. The reason you are all here, halfway through your journey with us now, is in order to reach deep down in your bodies and your spirits, to find out what is going on in you. Perhaps you do not know this, but for many women being infertile is like being sentenced to death. For some women, it is the source of deepest shame. We are here to help you come to terms one way or the other, whether or not you ever conceive."
One of the women snorted, a brunette with deep green eyes and Ariel turned to see her shaking her head. After all, weren't they here to conceive a baby? They weren't just here to talk and to feel better about themselves. Ariel smiled in a moment of sympathy. At least she had one friend in this crazy place. Then, she remembered her dinner plans with Brian and that made her feel better
She took the stick, smiling to cover her nervousness and lapse in concentration.
"I'm here mostly because of my friend Donna, who died less than a month ago."
Before she knew it, Ariel was telling these strangers everything, as the tears ran down her cheeks. Somewhere toward the end of her story, she realized the truth.
"I married Drew because it seemed like the right thing to do. He was rich and kind and everything a girl could possibly want. But maybe he was just a continuation of all the mistakes I'd been making, not taking Donna up on her offer to bring me with her to Tibet, always taking the safe choice, the choices that made sense, giving up on my dreams one piece at a time. Maybe that's why I'm so tightly wound, I can't even seem to give this man, the I'm supposed to love – I mean, the man I love. I can't give him the baby he deserves, the love he deserves. That's all."
She handed the talking stick off to the next person, smiling warmly at the group, several of whom were crying, all of them understanding and supportive. Brian was right to force her to come here. She would have to tell him that, at