I'm in that post 35 year old world. As a woman, you know what I'm talking about. "A woman's chances of..." "After 35, the baby risks..." "It's easier for a ...." Blah. Blah. Blah.
Some of the blahs seep in though.
And so I start thinking. I realize I need to make peace with some things.
I will get married.
But I might not be able to have children when I get married.
My mother is the only daughter. My grandmother was the only child. I'm the only daughter. My great grandmother was one of several children, but her mother died very young.
We have a history of fun times with our lady parts. Each generation has its own super fun tales. I think that's part of the rites of being a woman though. Traumatic stories of child birth, or lady bits. All in good fun.
My gynecologist used the word "infertile" in a general way a couple weeks ago.
To solve an ongoing problem, he suggested I get an IUD. My insurance provider has said that I'm covered if it is to prevent pregnancy. The problem I have actually prevents pregnancy, so I'm not sure if I'm covered or not because I'm not actively trying to prevent pregnancy. I'm also not really sure how getting an IUD is going to solve my problem. But my doctor casually walked over the word "infertile"... and that's the part that has stayed with me. I casually glanced at the word too. And I acknowledge that because of the problems I currently face, I would be unable to get pregnant, if I were to try to get pregnant. But still... you just don't think of it as an unsolvable problem. We solve one problem at a time... But still... infertile.... And that said... I'm not really comfortable taking something for the express purpose of stopping pregnancies that I will one day want. It just feels counterintuitive.
And so I need to make peace. I need to identify with my weaknesses.
I might not ever be able to have children. I might be infertile forever.
A woman's relationship with her hypothetical offspring is an interesting one. Everyone thinks about their children differently. I never really imagined them. They're abstract to me. I guess I didn't want to allow myself to hope for them because they're going to bear the mark of their father. That's generally how it works. And I could never really figure out who their father would be.
So I don't feel the loss of my hypothetical off spring. I have never had visions of them. I can't picture them in my mind.
But I have had visions of what it would be like to mother them. I would like to teach them to play the piano. I would like to take them to the park and to the zoo. I would like to fill their bellies with healthy and tasty foods. I would like to play with them. I would like to read them stories. I have plans to keep my kids home for school because I don't have the patience for schools. I want them reading Shakespeare in the second grade and conducting scientific experiments in the 3rd grade. I want them studying computer programming in the 4th grade. I want them to experience learning with passion.
I would love to have babies. But I don't know if I will be able to have them anymore. I do not feel the loss of my hypothetical children. I feel the loss of my hypothetical motherhood.
My motherhood remains this idealized dream instead of this real, gritty, dirty, mindnumbing, crazy, painful reality. I hear your traumatic stories. I understand the ways in which I am blessed.
But it's always greener and all that.
I don't believe in certain conclusions when it comes to this topic. Life has a way of turning everything on its head.
I guess I just wanted to share my perspective on being a mother on the Mother's Day weekend of my 36th birthday. I know many women who have had similar musings. And some of them have gone on to have beautiful babies. And if my life changes in that way, I'll write about it from that perspective.
It's all a part of the traumatic tales we tell as women.