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I’m sitting in a waiting room surrounded by parenting magazines and women with watermelon bellies. Finally, the nurse calls my name and I head back towards the neat row of clinic rooms. It’s the fifth time I’ve been into the gynecologist in a two-month span, and I have the drill down. Drop my purse and step on the scale, shirt sleeve up for the blood pressure monitor, sit for an excoriating long time waiting, the paper on the exam table sticking to my thighs.
When the doctor finally comes in, we exchange hellos and chat before getting down to business. She recaps what treatment plans we’ve exhausted and asks about symptoms. From here, it takes a somber turn. “You need to prepare yourself for the likely situation that you won’t be able to have children. There’s IVF options but there’s a chance that won’t work as well. Plus, the longer you wait to try, the lower the probability.”
I try to take in everything said to me while my mind also runs at a mile per minute coming up with thoughts, questions, worst case scenarios, etc. I had always known this was a possibility, but to hear it confirmed is something I’m not ready to handle in the moment.
My vagina has always been my own worst enemy. I skated through my early years care free, not getting my first period until well after my 17th birthday. From there it was all downhill. I’ve had multiple ER visits and diagnoses of different conditions, and a twisted fallopian tube now shooting blanks. My reproductive system was creating the perfect storm for an inhabitable uterus.
It’s tough to hear someone say that you can’t perform a basic human function. I wasn’t planning on trying to get pregnant anytime soon, but eventually that was supposed to be in the works. Now, maybe it never will. I know there are other options, and I can cross that bridge when the time arrives. Like the doctor said, fertility treatments are on the table, and there’s are so many children out there that need loving homes. It’s not like I’m being relegated to a childless life without any alternatives.
Where the real distress comes in is feeling like a failure while having to listen to others talk about their working bodies. I would give my right arm to not have to listen to friends and family talk about wanting babies and family planning. I don’t think it’s wrong of them to be excited, but it seems like a conversation I’ve had to sit through too many times at this point, all while the gnawing thought sits in my head, “It’s never going to be that easy for me.”
I am dreading future baby showers, christening, even my Facebook feed littered with pictures of children as everyone around me starts getting down to it. I hate the idea of being bitter or flakey, but I can foresee it just being too much to handle in big doses.
It’s definitely not an ideal situation.
Whenever something bad happens, I try to remind myself that dwelling doesn’t solve the issue. Instead, I try to ask the question, where do I go from here?
In this case, the answer to that question is nowhere. There is absolutely nothing I can do right now except sit and wait, maybe save up some money for the possibility of having to pay a high deductible or the full cost of fertility drugs if it comes to that. There’s anguish but also a sense of calm knowing it’s just a waiting game. I can just keep going about my life as if nothing has changed.
I have an ever-growing respect for women and men who have dealt with challenged attempts at parenthood. I’ve only experienced a small portion of this kind of sorrow, and I know how much it sucks and how hard it is to talk about in casual conversation.
I spoke with a friend who went through a very similar situation. She tried for years to get pregnant with no luck. She eventually became a mother to three amazing kids through adoption. She explained to me that there’s no one you feel you can blame for what’s happening, so the easiest path is to shift blame inward. It’s natural to start thinking you are the problem, this is your own fault for not being able to function normally. It’s this strange sense of guilt specific to feeling like you’ve failed in your motherly duties. “You can’t let yourself do this” she warned me. It’s unhealthy, untrue, and makes you focus on only the negative.
So here’s to the next few years in limbo. It’s an up-road path ahead, but I’m prepping to be emotionally ready to face any challenges head on. To anyone working through the same situation, I hope you know you’re not walking alone..
Respond
Kell
future soccer mom of America (AKA I drive a Volvo.) Miracle is my favorite movie and it should be yours too.
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The fact that you’re strong enough to share something like on the internet this speaks volumes about you. No matter the avenue that leads you to being a mother, you’re gonna be a damn good mom.
Hey, thanks for being a brave soul amongst all the humor and sarcasm on this site. Hopefully this news helps put everything in perspective for all of us and know you’re PGP brothers and sisters have your back. Also, look on the bright side of adoption possibilities in the future. Two of my cousins are adopted due to the same reason and they’re two of the best things to ever happen to our family. Regardless of how it all turns out, keep your head high and stay strong
OMG you are not alone! I just got this same diagnosis about three weeks ago and every single day has been a roller coaster of emotions since. I think the hardest part for me, in this moment, is that a) I need to start really considering my options quickly, and b) I am very, very single, and am worried that I will never find anyone who wants to consider other options than their own biological children, and I can’t blame someone for wanting that. Thank you so much for sharing this.
So sorry to hear about this news. Keep your head high, Kelly.
Sucks. Sorry to hear. Hope it works out for you.
As a man, I can’t understand, but I think what’s frustrating is knowing how many women deal with infertility, miscarriage, etc etc and it’s treated like a secret. Almost every woman I know has gone through something traumatic (my wife and I had a miscarriage at 13 weeks) but it’s never talked about until you’re affected by it, and then other women admit about their own unfortunate incidents. I know it’s hard to talk about but I feel like if it was not treated as though it’s taboo it would be easier because you don’t think it’s just you. Congrats on having the balls to say something publicly, hopefully it helps others going through the same thing because plenty of them are.
Thanks for writing this. I always enjoy learning different perspectives when writers on PGP share more about what’s going on at this stage of their lives.
I got hit with this news a few years ago, and it’s never easy to hear or deal with. Just like you said, you aren’t walking this alone. Sending good thoughts your way, Kelly ❤️
As everyone as said, thank you for writing this. Always keep in mind you’re not a failure though, this was 100% out of your control. We all get dealt crap cards now and again, its all about how you play them.
It’s strange how you spend your teenage years praying you don’t get pregnant, yet in your twenties you begin to wonder if you’re one of the many you may never be able to.
*who, damn lack of edit button.