As Facebook reminded me thing morning that’s been its two year since I started to be seriously unwell, I decided it was a good time to share a post I’ve had written for a while – talking about how I have tried to say goodbye to ever having a biological child.
For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a mum. Being from a single parent family, being a solo mum wasn’t something that phased me. In fact I would day-dream about being pregnant and having a baby rather than finding a soul mate.
Then I met the husband and I would think about how our child would look – would they have his family’s blonde hair (which both his sisters have) or would they have my thin mousey mop? Would they have my blue eye or his green – and so on.
So one of the biggest – perhaps the biggest – thing I’ve had to come to terms with is that I will never give birth to my own child. That there will never be a child who has a biological link to me and the husband. Before I got my diagnosis, whilst we were struggling to get pregnant, we talked about adopting and we both didn’t reject it. In fact in some ways, the conversation we had about wanting to be parents not just me being pregnant was a bit of a life changer for me. But whilst the ability was still there, I still had hope.
I only broke down and screamed at the world twice during the horrendous time between August and December 2014, the first time was when I found out my sister-in-law was pregnant (really early on and two weeks before I had my hysterectomy), the second time was when I was told I wasn’t able to harvest any eggs – twice. By the NHS because my BMI was too heavy and by a private consultant because pumping me full of estrogen would likely cause the cancer to spread. Even typing this now it makes me cry. I cry because I’m grieving for a child I will never have. It’s taken me a long time to realise that I have a legitimate right to grieve for that. Just as I grieved for my dad when he died.
And it’s not something I can put behind me and get over, because twice a week when I slap on my new hormone patch I’m reminded of why I need to do that. I’m currently recovering from an operation on my knee – where I had extensive cartilage repair work. Something most people don’t need until they’re in their 50s – except my body is in its 50’s as far its concerned. So there’s another nasty reminder.
I’ve tried counselling, I’ve tried focusing on what I do have (great husband, good home life and ok-ish job!) but I’ve come to the conclusion that the only thing that is going to truly help me overcome this is to actually become a mother. And whilst that child wont be mine in DNA wise, they will be the most wanted thing in the whole of my life.
So that’s what I’ve been focusing on – from making sure I’m the fittest and healthiest I can be both mentally and physically. To making sure we have the room to adopt – so we move in mere days to a bigger place. And I know this wont be easy – but I’ve survived cancer, I can cope with this. We both can.
And you know what, having a hysterectomy is going to save two lives – mine and the child we adopt. Because we will give them the best life – one full of love, support and guidance.