Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Because I Can Not Have Another Baby

My hormone shots are carefully timed to get the maximum dosage allowed because I can not have another baby. 

I can not have surgery to make sure I don't have another baby because having pulmonary hypertension makes that surgery a bad idea. I stopped breathing during labor with my last child, it's possible it will happen again if I have the surgery. And then there's the heart stuff, the crazy pathway connections to irregular beats because my heart remodeled itself without looking at the instructions.

So about two weeks short of every three months, I get another shot of progesterone. 

Because I can not have another baby.

The waiting room of your OB/GYN's office is a special hell for those of us who can't have the child(ren) we wanted. We're surrounded by happy pictures of mothers and babies. We're sometimes surrounded by actual babies, mostly tiny ones traveling with their mothers for those check-ups you get after you have a pregnancy and birth. Forgive us if we can't look you and your cute baby in the eyes. It doesn't have anything to do with you. 

It's a reminder, several times a year, that that door was closed to us forever. 

I realize the luck on my part here, I do, I promise. 

I was able to have children, I and my daughter even survived a really scary pregnancy and birth when it just as easily could have gone the other way. Many with my diagnosis don't get even half of what I have received. 

And my doctor is really understanding, and has a similar story. My appointments are fast, I'm not left staring at a sea of infants or being peppered with questions from any staff member if we will "try again". 

I know how lucky I was with all of this.

But, just like someone being happier somewhere else doesn't reduce your happiness, someone being sadder doesn't take away your pain. 

Of all the things that suck about being sick in this specific way, having that choice ripped out of my hands again (this time not in the form of a miscarriage) is the one that makes me the angriest, the saddest. 

I hope one day that our medical care and disease research reach a level where illness doesn't mean a high-risk gamble for your life if you want a child. 

But, until then, two weeks short of every three months, I get another shot of progesterone. 

And I try to look at the positives that having just my awesome three kids offers; more time to work, more time with my husband, easier travel, more time to focus on each child as we grow into the next stages of life...And I go shopping for them because that kind of retail therapy works for me. I forget until the next appointment how much this really hurts. 

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