The clinic where our miracle begins posted something online yesterday that left me stunned. A former patient had her TR surgery, had a baby, then decided one wee one was enough had an IUD put in, the IUD caused issues so she had it removed and at the age of 48 found out she is preggers ya’ll. I stopped dead in my tracks. 48?? First off let me say 48 ain’t that far away for me (sadly..this is the truth) but what it made me realize is that, once my body is whole…it’s whole, babies will come when the father sends them…despite our best laid plans. How does any of this pertain to me? Really in no way other than the fact that I am going to be 35, 35 this September. I want at least 2 more, which means I will probably deliver babies (if it is within His Plans) darn close to 40. Something I never thought I’d ever do after becoming a mom at 19.
I look at my body in the mirror, mostly with disgust, and a small sliver of pride at this worn and tattered “tent” (the stretch marks…Lordy!) and think, does this body have it in it to do this all over again. It did it 2 times correctly, 1 time not. I touch my stretch marks and feel in a way that they are battle scars, marks my daughters left on the outside of me that prove I am theirs, and they are a part of me….and in some small way those scars are proof that this body can do it again, if anything it’s seasoned, a pro if you will. Or at least I pray. Surgery is a mere 57 days away. It’s crazy to think that in 57 days my body will be fixed.
With my ever increasing age I am brought to a new place of fear that I never visited as a new mom. The dread of, okay my tubes are fixed, we know everything there is to know about cycles, sperm count, motility etc, we get the egg and the sperm together and BAMB a baby is on the way, cells divide BUT what makes me scared is….what about when the cells do divide but something miss-fires because my eggs are older than they were at the age of 19. When I was a young mother-to-be no one discussed those older mother disorders, no need to be concerned. Now in the small hours of the night I pray, I pray that everything I am doing is leading me to a healthy baby, a baby who I bring into this world with a life of joy and fun ahead of him / her and NOT a life of strife. Those fears shake me to my soul.
I will cross that bridge when I come to it. What choice do we have? So besides all of the above things rattling around the old noodle, the other stuff peppered through there is the strange fear I have of the surgery. I have no idea why. The doctor is above the board perfect, it’s in a hospital, I’m working out, eating right, excersing hell I’m even taking vitamins and eating yogurt (I hate YOGURT) I have this paralyzing fear that washes over me, when I see my daughters, or even the G.D. cats, I think what if I don’t come home. How will Mike travel back to Michigan, where will the girls go? What will happen. It’s a huge incision, but I know I’ll be in good hands. I guess when you are younger you think you are invincible, now I know that things go wrong, sometimes doctors can’t fix you no matter how hard they try, no matter how many thousands of surgeries they have to their credit, when it is your time to go….you go.
Is it glaringly obvious that this surgery and all that it encompasses is turning me inside out? So emotional, so changing, SO much risk, on so many levels. 57 days to keep worrying. To keep thinking about what will happen and even more scary what will be. Our life is about to change forever. If it works, we have a baby, if it doesn’t I become a woman struggling with fertility issues, a situation I can’t stand to think about. I can’t wait to say goodbye to the wait. It’s been a long year. I can’t wait to stand over pregnancy tests and either be excited or sad, at least this wait will be gone. Replaced by a much happier more hope filled wait.