Publications
Partners
Week
two of the wheelie pills done and dusted, and I’m starting to feel like my mojo
is back.
Nothing like the replacement of
a hormone your body feels you can do without, to make you feel human again.
By the way, this stuff has some amazing,
unexpected side effects, such as giving me what puberty never did. I like them a lot!
So I’m pondering the fact that my baby factory
has effectively been burnt down.
I
definitely don’t think I ever really wanted to be pregnant again, as the whole
experience sucked. From start to finish.
From getting those two lines, stressing myself
into anxiety attacks at every twinge to the little thing they call "morning
sickness".
(Someone needs to write a book entitled "What to expect when you’re expecting a disaster because miscarriages sucked
the joy from your pregnancy". I can’t, I’m not objective.)
Oh sweet, baby Moses. Morning sickness, my foot. More like start your day with a vomit
session, gag all day at every food smell, end your day with a vomit session.
For
the 35 weeks the first round and 37 weeks the second round. Did you know you have special muscles you can
only pull while vomiting with a very large, pregnant tummy? Neither did I. I’m not complaining, I’m
sharing my experience.
Complaining is quite a thing when you struggled
to conceive: Apparently we are either
not allowed to complain, or we guilt ourselves into thinking we are not allowed
to complain.
I fully agree with not complaining all the time,
but each time we stay quiet about the painful/unexpected/gross side-effect of
carrying a baby, a woman out there currently experiencing a
painful/unexpected/gross side-effect of carrying a baby feels alone, guilty
and possibly like a total freak of nature because she isn’t glowing.
Well,
very few of us glow. Most of us are
satisfied with making it through the day with no meltdowns. In that respect menopause and pregnancy has a
lot in common.
So
yes, no more pregnancies was a choice, as I was clearly just not designed for
breeding purposes. It’s ironic that the
menopause diagnosis came directly after that choice. Given my lifelong search for irony, you can
imagine how happy I was.
None of this means I never had the dream of a
house full of children, I did! I wanted
a rugby team. I’d have to buy them from
somewhere, but I still wanted them.
That’s
where the sadness lies when your body just gives up, like mine has: You have all these dreams and ideals, and
then life sort of gets in the way.
I
know this will mean new dreams and challenges, but I had to take some time to
deal with the loss of a dream.
I
wouldn’t trade this experience, though.
I hope one day my daughter reads this, and understands why I have so
much sympathy with my own mom, and understands what happened.
I
believe more kids will come into my life in different ways (they kind of
already have), and I am thankful I had the opportunity to experience pregnancy four times. Not everyone is so lucky, and
not everyone is lucky enough to have the opportunity to talk about these things
in all their horrific splendor!
(The HRT works!
No tears today!)
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