Breaking Down a Few Walls (Part V)

(This is the final of five parts detailing - mainly - my medical history which might explain: "Why I am so darn concerned with being a mother." To start at the beginning of this series click here.)

Lessons Learned

Overall, I feel ashamed when I force myself to think (or speak! or write!) about all of medical errors that I submitted myself to. I try not to think about it all too much. When thoughts do creep their way back into my head, it is paralyzing.

My deepest darkest fears are the worst at night. When I am laying in bed trying to fall asleep, my mind wanders: "What was really going on with my stomach back when I was 21? Do I have cancer and no one's found it yet? Why did I look pregnant, and then so suddenly it went away? Am I taking the correct amount of Dostinex, or is the tumor growing? Which hormones are going to go haywire next? Will the PCOS hormones continue to become further outside of the normal range, or will they stay where they are? If I have to take medicine for the rest of my life, will I be able to breastfeed? How long do I have before I can't have children of my own?

...When I am 33-years-old and unable to have children, will I look back and ::cringe:: wish I had just accidentally got pregnant when I was younger? ::shudder::"

I just "know" that the doctors have missed something. I know that there is probably cancer slime-ing it's way through my reproductive system as we speak. But they just can not find it! And of course, my fears have been exacerbated by my roommate's uphill battle with Ovarian Cancer.

(Editorial Note: My roommate is moving out of my place and back in with her family. Frankly and embarrassingly: I am relieved. This is her third round of chemo and things are not going well this time around. And as much as I want to be there for her, it is alot for me to deal with when there is nothing I can do to stop the cancer from spreading.)

I had a doctor tell me once: "What do you want us to do? Biopsy everything in your abdomen? Perform brain surgery just to make sure you're okay?"

So, yeah. I get it. Alright.

However, I have learned that doctors rely heavily on the CA 125 blood test to indicate whether cancer is present. However, my research and experience has revealed that CA 125 is hardly a perfect test. I look forward to the day when women's medical issues receive as much attention as men's.

Life Today

So, back to our original question: Why am I so darn concerned with being a mother?

I hypothesis that the hormones that create that baby making urge are MUCH, MUCH STRONGER in myself than the average woman. And I tell myself this, "Listen Suzanne. It is not your fault that you are positively dying to be a mom. Biologically, your hormones are just messing with you."

But it does not help.

I realize that some women would have taken my experience this last summer as a sign to start piling enormous pressure on their Beau to get hitched. But that is not my style. (Did I just use the word, "hitched"?...)

I want Andrew to marry me because he has imagined what life would be like without me, and although he knows that he could make it without me by his side, he simply will not accept that as his reality.

I want him to marry me because he tried, and failed, in his attempt envision a better mother for his future children.

I want him to marry me because he knows in the bottom of his heart, and to the depths of his soul, that we will be together until the end of time.

I want him to marry me because he is ready.

(Editorial Note: Do I think married life will be a fairytale? Certainly not. But if you do not start from a place believing you are meant for one another, how will you manage when you flip your car a few times after hitting the impending road bumps life has in store.)

And. So. I find myself sitting silently. Waiting. Wanting not to make a peep about marriage, but inevitably: It comes up. I try desperately to live life as if becoming a mother was the furthest thing from my mind.





But it is not.

My desire rises with the sun AND the moon. There is no escape.

Only time will tell if I will be able to become that image of a woman I have pushed aside for so long. Or, if I have already missed my chance?