The possibility of being infertile has always been at the back of my mind. I mean, why wouldn’t I consider this possibility? I pretty much wrecked my insides when I had my eating disorder, so it’s not much of a stretch to think I may have damaged my ability to have children.
Most people who know me are aware that I dislike children. Immensely. The ones I do like are the well-behaved ones, the kids who don’t shriek, scream or disrespect their parents and everyone around them. I can’t stand brats or kids who are total jerks because their parents have so far been a colossal failure in raising them. We all know someone who has one (or many) of those kids, and we can’t stand to be around them and their devil spawn.
So why is it that I’m suddenly worried about my ability to have kids?
I’m not sure what to think. This line of thought caught fire Sunday, the day I was supposed to start what I have affectionately dubbed “Shark Week.” As I’ve mentioned before, my injection treatments for endometriosis have been switched to just regular birth control pills. This was due in large part to my fear of loss of bone mass, as well as a cost factor. I was scared of switching because I thought the change in hormones (little though it may be) would mess with my depression and anxiety, but so far it’s been okay.
This is where the post gets kinda gross…
However, it’s been two months on these pills and I haven’t bled a single drop. My gynecologist made sure to let me know that in the first couple of weeks taking the pills, I would probably experience spotting, and then my period would start when I hit the white placebo pill row. But it never happened. In fact, absolutely nothing has changed. It’s like two years of not having Shark Week has made it difficult for the engines to start up again.
When I first started the injections, I was informed that I would experience menopause-like symptoms. Indeed, I would literally be going through menopause, just not THE menopause, the one you get when you’re at the end of your baby-making tether. So I got, not a taste, but the whole smorgasbord of what it’s like to be a middle-aged woman going through the “joys” of menopause.
Apparently, my body took this more seriously than I thought.
I just don’t understand why I’m so worried about it. I mean, if I never have my period again, what is it to me? Motherhood is something that only comes naturally to me when I’ve adopted a kitten. I feel a motherly instinct with animals, not babies. I often joke with family and friends about how I’m going to start a business called Rent-A-Baby so that people who only want to have a baby when they feel like it can experience motherhood, cause I think this service could be really popular. Highly illegal, but popular. I just don’t want to be a mother.
Part of that is also that I feel I am unfit to be a mother. Well, perhaps unfit is not the best word. It’s more like, um… well, I don’t think I could be the kind of mother I would want to be. When it comes to how my mother raised me, I have a lot to live up to. Because of my mental illness, it’s difficult for me to handle frustration and anger effectively. I tend to hold it all in or unleash it on some poor soul (I wonder where I got it from…). I don’t want to be the kind of mom that gets frustrated with her children for things they just can’t help, or for things they don’t know they shouldn’t do yet.
I have so little patience and ability to deal with emotions in a healthy way that I would do more damage than good. I’m 27 years old, and I’m still not ready for motherhood.
Maybe the threat of infertility irks me because giving birth is something most other women have the ability to do. It’s something I should be able to do cause I’m female, and the fact that I possibly can’t makes me feel inadequate, like I’m somehow less of a woman. It’s all one big mess of conflicted feelings at this point.
I could go on talking about all the reasons in bothers me for hours, but I suppose I’d better wrap it up. I’ll be giving this thing one more month, and if Shark Week hasn’t happened by then, I’m calling my gynecologist. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll keep you guys updated, but not too much. Nobody wants to constantly hear about the woes of not being able to bleed out of one’s vagina.
Ciao for now.
Amber,
I’m sorry you’re going through all this. I can’t be sure (obviously, because I’m not you), but I think the idea of not being able to perhaps be a mother one day bothers you because (1) like you mentioned, other woman have the ability and (2) maybe even if you don’t think you want kids or know you don’t want kids, it still hurts to think that you have no chance at all.
I know that for me, I like the idea of having kids one day, but the fact that I have anxiety makes me wonder if I’ll ever feel like I can take that kind of responsibility on. However, if I found out I could never have kids for sure, it would probably bother me because even though I’m not sure if I want them, the idea of not being able to takes away any possibility.
Know that no matter what, you are not inferior to other women. Just because you maybe can’t have children does not make you any less of a person or a woman, it just means that you can’t have kids or maybe it would be harder for you to conceive. There are a lot of women that go through this and I’m sure they know how you feel.
Thank you. 🙂 I feel like maybe I’m getting too worked up about all of it. I don’t know if it’s normal to have this much of a delay when getting back on my period, so it’s really difficult to judge. I’m probably overthinking everything. It’s hard not to when you have GAD, though. Thanks for your kind words!
Well so you know, I’m here for you if you need to talk.
Having kids and not having kids is such a strange subject. It’s such a personal thing that most outside opinions should immediately be ignored.
There are people who I totally thought would have a million kids who have none and vice versa.
My only qualification for anyone to need to stick to is…do you want kids? If you do, have your own or adopt. Being a mom is something that usually is just something you know you want to do..whether it’s to a blood child or adopted child, it doesn’t matter…you just should know from the start that you want to do it because if you’re unsure or if you don’t want to be there, you’re only doing damage to the kid you’re raising.
Good luck with all of it, kids or no kids!
That’s the tough part, deciding whether or not I want to have kids. I don’t think I do, but I’m not sure. It’s tough for me because it’s like the choice might be taken away from me. If I don’t have kids, I want it to be my choice, not my body’s. 🙁
I always knew that I want to adopt and even though I can have children I do not want to pop them out of my vagina. I hope you realize that perhaps why you are feeling that way is because we are told that we are made to be baby making machines and adoption is for rich people or those who are really, really feeling empty without a child. I obviously have no idea about how you feel deep inside, but I hope it is not society and what they teach us that makes you feel that you are less of a woman if it happens that you will not be able to have your own children. Some don’t want children, some want to adopt, some perhaps cant… you are a woman and if you truly want to be a mother, there are millions of kids that need parents. In one sentence – blood or no blood, children or no children – you are one hell of a woman and what comes (or doesn’t) from your vagina is your own thing, not something that defines you.
Thank you so much. :’) I just have such a tough time when I think about what I put my body through when I was younger and how it’s affecting me now. It’s one of those “hindsight is 20/20” moments. I can’t take anything back. Thank you for your understanding. You are very kind. 🙂