I sit alone in a dark corner hot tears spilling down my cheeks, it’s like someone knocked over a glass of wine. I’m dying on the inside and my overwhelming pain is searching for some sort of release. Why haven’t they found a cure for this awful deadly thing? It snatches ones dreams to one day conceive. The devastating thing is I was really hopeful this time, hoping I would finally find a doctor who actually gave a damn about me wanting to carry my own child. I’m a 38 year old woman who has never even experienced one pregnancy, and no one seems to care or understand my desire to carry our seed. If I hear one more time about the alternatives of adoption, or surrogacy I’m certain I’ll scream… does no one understand my desire to feel our child growing on the inside of me? I want to experience his first kick, and feel him or her move on the inside of me. I want to be able to bond and sing him lullabies as he sleeps.
I can’t count how many different physicians I’ve seen, but in spite of all the bad news, I decided to give it one more try. A friend of mine assured me that he was the right man for the job, a man of faith who performed delicate surgeries. He would be able to remove those awful tumors while making sure to preserve my uterus that would one day carry my children. A few short weeks ago I had experienced an appointment that left me shattered in pieces, but I had hope and faith that this one would have a good outcome, it just had to because I wasn’t sure just how much more of this I could take.
I was diagnosed with having fibroids over ten years ago, and I find it a tragedy that soon as I met the man I know I’ll spend my life with things took a turn for the worse. I had an MRI done a few years ago, and they told me my uterus was the size of a six month pregnancy due to all of the fibroids that had taken residence inside of me, so many that they are unable to count them. I think in order for me to maintain some sanity, I try my best to ignore it and believe that everything will work out as it should, but every time I have one of these appointments my resolve is cracking and the crack is spreading throughout my soul. I’ve had so many opinions that I can’t keep them all straight. One specialist tells me my chances for being a mother are greater without surgery because he believes my fibroids are so big that there won’t be enough tissue to repair my uterus… so surgery to remove them could result in a hysterectomy, the last thing I want is that so I opt to keep going. Days, months, even years go by and my monthly cycle I’m certain is trying to kill me, what was five to seven days now becomes twelve and then thirteen. I’ve finally gotten to the point where my anemia is manageable. I go back for second and third opinions but the news seems to be getting worse. One OBGYN looks me in the eye and tells me “Your damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.” He tells me the last thing I need to do is get pregnant because the chances are highly likely that both baby and I will die during the delivery, but I keep on pushing. I finally find an amazing holistic doctor and I start working on my diet, taking supplements but things don’t change. I experience a couple of pregnancy scares only to be devastated as the test tells me you won’t be a mother today. How do you react to that when you have missed your cycle for a whole month? I’ve done the whole fertility charting, trying to tell when I’m most fertile but my heart couldn’t handle the disappointment over and over, so I let that alone telling myself it will happen when it’s supposed to happen, but will it? For anyone who really knows me I love kids, I was always the babysitter, caregiver, nursery school teacher… so is that the closest that I will come? I started babysitting before I was even a teenager. It kills me when I hear people say “I’ll give you a baby next year.” As if we can decide. Of those who complain about not being able to have their third or fourth child, instead of thanking God for the gifts of life that he has already given you. So I sit here in this small office hopeful as I look around at all the Christian paraphernalia. There is a mobile with tiny angles that says angels reside here. I tell myself I can do this, and this time will be different. In walks what I’m hoping will be my new doctor and he brings a student alone with him. I wish they wouldn’t involve students with such a sensitive topic. He shakes my hand and we begin. He has reviewed all of the evidence I’ve brought along with me. He makes small talk and next he performs an ultrasound, I lie there alone feeling cold and like a piece of meat. He calls over the student and has him press on my abdomen telling him he may never see a case like this again, I feel violated after all this is my life. He attempts to show me what I already know, that I’m broken. I lay there in pain because of the pressure he is applying just wanting for this to be over, but I tell myself this ultrasound will help him be able to help me so I continue to lay there. They step out and he tells me he will return. I sit there looking around the office not feeling as hopeful but trying nevertheless to remain positive. He returns alone, and I silently thank God. He sits down and draws me a picture of a “normal” uterus and then “my” uterus. He tells me what I’ve already heard. My options are to continue living like this being incapacitated, for me that no longer is an option. I get stressed just knowing that my period is nearing. The cramping, the accidents, the heavy bleeding have become the routine of my life. How can one wear three pads and still have accidents? Having to get up hourly just to ensure that I don’t soil my bed. Being secluded to my house for days….this is no longer an option. He then refers me to some other doctors to have the surgery to remove these baby killers, or I can do the unthinkable and have a hysterectomy. Remove my uterus before it even has the chance to do what it’s supposed to do, I won’t do that, I can’t. So I inquire “Are you not able to perform the surgery?” He tells me he doesn’t have the skills to do so, but if I want him to scoop it all out he is amazing at that. Scoop it out? I swear the sensitivity training in the medical field is not working. I sit there in silence he doesn’t want to help me, again I’ve wasted my time and money. I was told that he performed delicate surgeries… but I don’t want someone operating on me who is unsure or uninterested. He tells me he is glad that I’m so hopeful and that if something good happens to contact him. I grabbed my things and walk to the reception area as quick as my legs can carry me. What a waste of time I think, what a waste. The receptionist gives me a kind smile, as if she knows what is going on internally. I board the elevator numb, how many times can I endure this without losing my mind? My eyes are watering but I try to keep it together as I walk to the car. The sun is shining brightly but inside my world is dark and cloudy. I sit there and the tears being to fall. It’s so hard for me to see all of the pregnant women walking around my office without feeling some type of way, it’s not their fault that they are capable of doing something that I seem to be unable to do. I try to smile as the fissure spreads. These fibroids don’t only affect me they affect the man in my life who wants to be a father, they affect my parents who want badly to become grandparents. I feel like a failure, less of a woman. The man in my life supports me and tells me no matter what that by my side he will be, but I still can’t help feeling so broken. I’m running out of time and options. Am I asking for too much? To be able to birth our children. I often fantasize what it would be like to tuck our child into bed, to read him or her a bedtime story. To experience what it’s like to be pregnant, to feel the first kick, to hear the heartbeat, to see what our love created. I wonder will I ever get the chance. At this moment I’m just focusing on trying to put the piece back together and keep going, keep trying. I hope it all works out.
I can’t count how many different physicians I’ve seen, but in spite of all the bad news, I decided to give it one more try. A friend of mine assured me that he was the right man for the job, a man of faith who performed delicate surgeries. He would be able to remove those awful tumors while making sure to preserve my uterus that would one day carry my children. A few short weeks ago I had experienced an appointment that left me shattered in pieces, but I had hope and faith that this one would have a good outcome, it just had to because I wasn’t sure just how much more of this I could take.
I was diagnosed with having fibroids over ten years ago, and I find it a tragedy that soon as I met the man I know I’ll spend my life with things took a turn for the worse. I had an MRI done a few years ago, and they told me my uterus was the size of a six month pregnancy due to all of the fibroids that had taken residence inside of me, so many that they are unable to count them. I think in order for me to maintain some sanity, I try my best to ignore it and believe that everything will work out as it should, but every time I have one of these appointments my resolve is cracking and the crack is spreading throughout my soul. I’ve had so many opinions that I can’t keep them all straight. One specialist tells me my chances for being a mother are greater without surgery because he believes my fibroids are so big that there won’t be enough tissue to repair my uterus… so surgery to remove them could result in a hysterectomy, the last thing I want is that so I opt to keep going. Days, months, even years go by and my monthly cycle I’m certain is trying to kill me, what was five to seven days now becomes twelve and then thirteen. I’ve finally gotten to the point where my anemia is manageable. I go back for second and third opinions but the news seems to be getting worse. One OBGYN looks me in the eye and tells me “Your damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.” He tells me the last thing I need to do is get pregnant because the chances are highly likely that both baby and I will die during the delivery, but I keep on pushing. I finally find an amazing holistic doctor and I start working on my diet, taking supplements but things don’t change. I experience a couple of pregnancy scares only to be devastated as the test tells me you won’t be a mother today. How do you react to that when you have missed your cycle for a whole month? I’ve done the whole fertility charting, trying to tell when I’m most fertile but my heart couldn’t handle the disappointment over and over, so I let that alone telling myself it will happen when it’s supposed to happen, but will it? For anyone who really knows me I love kids, I was always the babysitter, caregiver, nursery school teacher… so is that the closest that I will come? I started babysitting before I was even a teenager. It kills me when I hear people say “I’ll give you a baby next year.” As if we can decide. Of those who complain about not being able to have their third or fourth child, instead of thanking God for the gifts of life that he has already given you. So I sit here in this small office hopeful as I look around at all the Christian paraphernalia. There is a mobile with tiny angles that says angels reside here. I tell myself I can do this, and this time will be different. In walks what I’m hoping will be my new doctor and he brings a student alone with him. I wish they wouldn’t involve students with such a sensitive topic. He shakes my hand and we begin. He has reviewed all of the evidence I’ve brought along with me. He makes small talk and next he performs an ultrasound, I lie there alone feeling cold and like a piece of meat. He calls over the student and has him press on my abdomen telling him he may never see a case like this again, I feel violated after all this is my life. He attempts to show me what I already know, that I’m broken. I lay there in pain because of the pressure he is applying just wanting for this to be over, but I tell myself this ultrasound will help him be able to help me so I continue to lay there. They step out and he tells me he will return. I sit there looking around the office not feeling as hopeful but trying nevertheless to remain positive. He returns alone, and I silently thank God. He sits down and draws me a picture of a “normal” uterus and then “my” uterus. He tells me what I’ve already heard. My options are to continue living like this being incapacitated, for me that no longer is an option. I get stressed just knowing that my period is nearing. The cramping, the accidents, the heavy bleeding have become the routine of my life. How can one wear three pads and still have accidents? Having to get up hourly just to ensure that I don’t soil my bed. Being secluded to my house for days….this is no longer an option. He then refers me to some other doctors to have the surgery to remove these baby killers, or I can do the unthinkable and have a hysterectomy. Remove my uterus before it even has the chance to do what it’s supposed to do, I won’t do that, I can’t. So I inquire “Are you not able to perform the surgery?” He tells me he doesn’t have the skills to do so, but if I want him to scoop it all out he is amazing at that. Scoop it out? I swear the sensitivity training in the medical field is not working. I sit there in silence he doesn’t want to help me, again I’ve wasted my time and money. I was told that he performed delicate surgeries… but I don’t want someone operating on me who is unsure or uninterested. He tells me he is glad that I’m so hopeful and that if something good happens to contact him. I grabbed my things and walk to the reception area as quick as my legs can carry me. What a waste of time I think, what a waste. The receptionist gives me a kind smile, as if she knows what is going on internally. I board the elevator numb, how many times can I endure this without losing my mind? My eyes are watering but I try to keep it together as I walk to the car. The sun is shining brightly but inside my world is dark and cloudy. I sit there and the tears being to fall. It’s so hard for me to see all of the pregnant women walking around my office without feeling some type of way, it’s not their fault that they are capable of doing something that I seem to be unable to do. I try to smile as the fissure spreads. These fibroids don’t only affect me they affect the man in my life who wants to be a father, they affect my parents who want badly to become grandparents. I feel like a failure, less of a woman. The man in my life supports me and tells me no matter what that by my side he will be, but I still can’t help feeling so broken. I’m running out of time and options. Am I asking for too much? To be able to birth our children. I often fantasize what it would be like to tuck our child into bed, to read him or her a bedtime story. To experience what it’s like to be pregnant, to feel the first kick, to hear the heartbeat, to see what our love created. I wonder will I ever get the chance. At this moment I’m just focusing on trying to put the piece back together and keep going, keep trying. I hope it all works out.