Almost a year ago I found out that I have illnesses that will affect my ability to reproduce. There is a great possibility that I will never be able to have my own children. It took me a very long time to be able to talk about this without tears welling up in my eyes and a pit forming in my stomach. It’s no secret that I am not a huge fan of children. I never know what to say to them, they puke a lot, and they’re pretty slobbery. But finding out that I will probably have troubles reproducing really sucked. I don’t know how else to describe it. It didn’t even hit me at first. Then I went home and I was flipping through the channels on TV. I was trying to think about anything else than what I had just found out when I turned to MTV and Teen Mom was on. I had this overwhelming sense of sadness. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It wasn’t fair that the decision was being made for me. It wasn’t fair that these girls were able to reproduce with barely any repercussions and I wasn’t. I was upset. But I pushed it out of my mind and left for Australia because I didn’t believe that I deserved to be upset. Someone else had it much worse than I did. And besides, I have always said I don’t want kids anyway. That is until I found out I probably couldn’t. Then all the sudden the thought of having a mini Lara someday didn’t seem so bad.
I went to Australia thinking that I would easily forget about the diagnosis and move on with my life. I was sadly mistaken. I fell into a little depression. Every morning I would wake up after having dreamt about my future. I worried all the time. I worried about this baggage that I now carried with me. I worried about my future relationships. I worried about my parents. I was very upset thinking that I would never have the opportunity to be a mother.
On one of these days in Australia, I was feeling unusually desolate as I sat in the library attempting to study. One of my Australian classmates and dear friend sat down next to me. Her name was Brooke. Brooke asked me what was the matter and I broke down. I told her everything. She listened and looked at me with her big brown eyes. When I was finished she looked me straight in the eye and said
“Sharing DNA doesn’t make you a mother.”
She then explained to me that her mother was involved in an accident 25 years before that caused her to have to have a hysterectomy. Afterwards, she adopted Brooke.
“My mother saved my life. She will always be my mother and our love is no different.”
Hearing Brooke’s story changed my life. I mean that.
Since I was 14 years old I have dealt with weird issues. I call them weird issues because going into detail is unnecessary and confusing. Like those people that post screenshots of their texting conversations that no one else thinks is funny…
So, yeah, since I was 14 I have always known that there is something wrong with me. This isn’t one of those intuition or sixth sense things, it’s just simply me listening to my body and refusing to take no for an answer. I have been to AT LEAST 5 different doctors since I was 14 most of which told me that I was overreacting, imagining my condition, reading too many things on the Internet, or I was just “stressed.”
I got super personal with you guys today and for the last couple of months I have debated whether or not I should write about something so private.
But here’s the thing, when I finally found out what was wrong with me and what it means for my future- I wished so badly that I had someone to talk to. I wanted someone that understood what I was going through and could talk with me and actually understand what I was saying. I wanted someone who would know that I was extremely happy and extremely sad all at the same time and still trying to figure out how that was possible. (PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER)
I’ve said it before- it’s important to know that we aren’t alone in our struggles. There’s someone else out there that has been dealt similar cards in their life…you just haven’t found them yet.
That’s why I am writing this today. I know there is someone out there that is going through something similar and I want them to know that they aren’t alone. You aren’t broken. You’re just bent. :)