I don’t think there is anything that can fix the heartache I’m facing of NEVER becoming a biological mother. There is grieving and mourning that can and will be done. But I don’t know how one is meant to “get over” a loss like this.
I will learn to be ok with never having biological children. There was a long time in my history when I believed that I would be unable to do so. During that time I reconciled with adopting as my road to parenthood. And that was what I always thought I’d pursue in my future. And then I saw a glimmer of hope for a more traditional approach ….
In 2010, there was a doctor on my path who said he thought I could bear children; I followed his advice. I am angry with that doctor. I want to tell him off – to look him in the eye and show him my pain, my heartache. I want to blame him for giving me hope. (I also want to help him understand that if it weren’t for his advice, I may have never taken the form of injectable birth control that ended up being like poison to me, the one that threatened to take the very life from my flesh. To tell him that I wonder if so much of what I have experienced in the last 4 years might have been avoided or different if I had never taken that medication.) l want to ask him to erase all of what I’ve gone through based on his advice. But I know that even that won’t help heal this heartache.
Then there were other doctors who agreed that I could have my own child. And that gave me some more hope. Right now, I want to yell at all of them. Shout and scream and cry in their faces and tell them they were ALL WRONG. Because now it seems this hope was false.
I didn’t know that at the beginning. All I knew was that there was hope down this path. So I had to go there; I had to follow and see where it lead. For if not for hope, the human experience is entirely void.
For a while there was hope that I’d even be able to bear my own child – in my own body. And so I followed that down that road too. I ran a full hearted sprint towards the hope that would bring my dream come true. And even though I was slightly reluctant to hope against all odds, I did it anyway.
The path of hope has been a long and complicated path. And at the end of the road, my hope fell flat. Reality hit and it stung like a bee. And now, in my head, this is the resounding chorus: “No. No. You won’t have a child. No dream come true for you. Your hope was misleading you this whole time. You never should have hoped for this. You aren’t good enough to be a mother…You are so foolish…” Eventually I force myself to stop, but it’s a very ugly place and I am stuck in it right now.
My desire to parent is paramount. And I’m determined not to let biology stand in my way for long. I will grieve. I will mourn. I will be angry. In some ways these things will probably be true for the rest of my natural life.
But before too long I hope – yes I dare use that word again! – that my journey will come full circle and I’ll reconcile with not contributing DNA to a child, as I once had done in my former experience. I will become a parent by different means than biological ones. I will reconcile and rejoice in the idea of creating and loving a family even more precious than I can ask for or imagine. I know it will be quite a journey with bumps & bruises along the way. I also know I want to start it as soon as possible.