Five or so years ago I was on a quest to find some relief from the abdominal pain I was having when my doctor referred me to get an ultrasound. I remember very vividly because the paper she gave me said, “consequences of not following up with this referral:” and she had written, “cancer, death”.
Talk about a terrible bedside manner!
Needless to say, that terrified me (a 20 year old girl who had fairly recently moved to Seattle) and I had the ultrasound.
The pain, they told me over the phone, was ovarian cysts.
“Oh, and by the way, you have a uterine abnormality and there is a 90% chance that you cannot have children.” Click!
Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I hate being around children. They make me overwhelmingly uncomfortable. And my 20 year old self had no intention of ever having children anyway.
But I found myself extremely upset, much more than I anticipated. Like I said, it didn’t really bother me that I couldn’t have children because I didn’t want to, what bothered me was that I no longer had the choice. I would never be able to decide for myself to have them or not, the decision was already made for me.
Over the last five years I feel like I have completely come to terms with the situation. I have relied heavily on this fact to diffuse any possible pressure by my family or my man’s family about us ever having kids.
We’ve talked about it often, neither of us wants to. And lets say that by some miracle I hit 35 and become obsessed with having a child in my life, well heck. I’d just adopt one. I have a friend who was adopted and she is one of the coolest people I know!
This week I had to have an ultrasound again, and the results were a little shocking.
The abnormality is gone.
Maybe it wasn’t there in the first place and they mis-read my first ultrasound, or my file got swapped with someone else’s, or the Great Pumpkin granted me a new uterus.
I don’t know how or why, but after five years of being told I would never have children I was told Tuesday that, well, actually I could if I wanted.
I guess “shocked” is really an understatement. I don’t know if I am happy or upset, because my ducks were in a row but now there are just ducks everywhere.
I wont lie, having bipolar disorder does have some influence over my decision about procreation. I am not suggesting that people with bipolar disorder make bad parents or that they shouldn’t pass on their genes, people should do whatever they darn well please. What concerns me is discerning what I darn well please and I was satisfied with the decision I had come to. I felt comfortable there.
This really doesn’t effect anything except my own perception of my possible futures. I still feel the same way I did about having children, and as confusing as it is I am glad that I have been given back the choice that was taken away from me 5 years ago.