I usually put a big disclaimer at the front of posts about topics like this one, just so my Grandpa doesn’t skim it and think I’m pregnant and start buying onesies by the boxful off of Amazon (Amazon was kind of his thing.) But he’s dead now. So I guess that’s not an issue.
After a hard week like this, I’m really struggling to believe that the future I want is a reality. Is this really a world and a body and a situation where I can have kids of my own?
It’s more than the fact that going down that last ten milligrams on my medication has put me in a dark hole for a week where I’ve been hiding out from the migraines and the pain medications that go with them. (Which is another post entirely, that I was in too much pain to write about last night.)
It’s more than the idea that I won’t be able to take any painkillers during a pregnancy along with the other medications that help reduce the chance I’ll be in pain.
It’s the fact that I’m already losing my patience trying to be okay with the wading-through-water feeling of trying to function in my normal life while exhausted by what’s happening inside of my body. I can’t even take care of Happy.
I can’t take care of myself. How am I going to take care of anyone else?
Now that we’re really, literally, actually setting the groundwork for our family, I’m having more and more doubts that this is a possibility. We’re looking at these houses and I’m trying to imagine our lives in them.
What am I supposed to do when the baby is crying and I’m climbing up and down the stairs and I’m attached to my IV and tripping over myself? What am I supposed to do when the migraines hit and I can’t get up in the morning to take them to school? When I can’t function? I’m pulling every single person in my life into the water with me. How is that fair?
Even if I go into the magical pregnancy remission that my doctors are reassuring me of, what happens after? After that I have the actual baby. Do I stay off all my medication in case I want to have another one and don’t want to spend another entire year detoxing? Or do I frantically jump back on all the medication that’s been keeping me somewhat functional these last two years so I have a shot at being able to stand up straight during my baby’s first year?
I never imagined my life without kids. I just always thought this thing was going to go into remission–not that I was going to have to figure out how to work every single detail of my life around it.
But growing up, who imagines their health being so tumultuous that it’s hard enough just taking care of themselves?
I know I generally have a lot more optimistic attitude about this. I know I’ve literally written the book on how to work every detail of your life around your illness. I know that if I really want them, come hell or high water or surrogates or five baby nurses or cuban coffee in my IV drop–I’ll have kids.
But the whole idea of it is a new book for me. I don’t know what could reassure me that it will all be okay. No one is ever ready for kids.
Does that mean me too? Is this normal or just another complication of chronic illness?
I could really use some advice from other women going through the same worries–or current moms who actually got through their pregnancies and are in full on parenting mode.
What’s your version of this story?
EDIT: Wowza. I did not expect this much response! Thank you all for sharing. Reading everyone’s stories here and on FB and twitter!
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