Reader beware, this post will be about a vagina, a uterus, and an unrealized dream. If any of those things offend you, move along….
When I was in high school, I wanted 6 kids. I don’t know why… maybe because of the Anne of Green Gables series. Probably. Then I had a baby and within hours decided I only wanted 4. Then I miscarried a baby and I said I only wanted one or two more. Then I married Sara and it was still one or two more. Then my uterus started acting up.
Over the last year, I’ve gone from regular 7 day heavy periods to 14-20 day heavy periods. I literally just ended a period today that started on January 16th. Naturally I went to an ob-gyn and now I’m scheduled for an ablation. I watched a video of the procedure on YouTube and it literally looks like carving a pumpkin. Which made the procedure at least funny looking. Unfortunately, it also means, I get no more babies. Yes, I have a spare uterus in Sara, but she never wanted to carry and our first pancake is 13 and almost done.
Only one person has offered their condolences for my fertility and for the babies I still desperately want. We were going to shoot for two. We had names. I had dreamed up their personalities. I imagined a little girl and a little boy so sweet and perfect they could have been real. I laughed at the idea of a little sister wrapping Liam around her pinkie finger and him teaching a little brother how to play football, soccer, baseball, and basketball. These children were real to me and now they’re lost in the ephemera of my imagination and it hurts. It hurts that no one wants to talk about it. It hurts that I don’t know how to talk about it.
I’m looking forward to the possibility of no periods, but my fertility was not something I expected to lose. I can’t look at the babies on facebook or the pregnancies because I want to be a part of it. I’m happy for my friends, but I just can’t be there for their happiness. My grief is just too strong. I really hope this goes away over time. It has to.