For the past week, I have been battling a major health scare. I was drained and in constant pain. I could barely walk or get through the day. After a doctor visit that gave no answers, I landed in the emergency room. No one seemed to know what was wrong, but the possibilities seemed endless; ovarian cancer, infected ovarian cyst, a rapidly growing ovarian tumor. Thankfully, it turns out that this was a single incident. This scare did come with one devastating realization though: I should not attempt carrying and and giving birth to children.
I am a small woman with a family history of female health problems and miscarriages. It makes perfect sense and is the logical choice for my health. Everyone continues to say "you can always adopt, or just don't have kids." But to me and my fiancée, it isn't so easy to just gleefully go along with these options. This news still hurts, just as it hurts the millions of other women who have learned that they also cannot birth their own child.
More and more woman are deciding that they never want the role of motherhood, and that is great. This leaves these women with more time to pursue their careers, their dreams, and their own path of personal growth. To make this decision is a big step in the right direction for women to say that we do not have to be mothers. Not every little girl plays house with her array of baby dolls dreaming of the day when she will become a mommy. For years I vehemently swore that I never wanted children; that I despised kids, and that I had too many life goals to make time for motherhood. When I changed my mind, I was criticized. I was also criticized when I said that I didn't want kids. No one should be criticized for whether or not they choose to give birth. That is too large of a decision to make a judgement on. You do not understand how someone may feel about their health, life goals, relationship, or state of mind.
Now that we have made this decision, we do intend on adopting. When my fiancée and I evaluated my health and began discussing adoption we clearly found the benefits; we can help children out of a difficult situation, we can wait until we are older, and can have more time to enjoy each other. Most importantly, there will be no threat to my health. But adoption isn't that simple. Everyone can shout "adopt" at someone as much as they want, but I cannot snap my fingers and a child in need of a home will appear on my doorstep. Many people want to but cannot adopt, just as many people cannot get pregnant. Adoption takes time, money, and legal resources that can be hard to access. Some believe the system is broken in a way that traps children in the system, constantly keeping them from families who desperately want to include them. Of course, I want to adopt, but I need time, help, and an understanding of this difficult process.
When a woman learns she cannot conceive in a healthy way, even if she has never wanted to give birth, it still hurts. The female body is a beautiful tool perfectly created to bring forth life. To learn that yours cannot create life almost makes you feel like less of a woman; a flawed and damaged flower that will never bloom in the spring while all those around you do. Women who face infertility must look on as their friends shine with the glow of pregnancy. They are asked the question, "Did you not try?" constantly after adopting or choosing not to adopt. Many women who discover that they cannot conceive are bombarded with unwanted advice and criticism from those who can. As if this news isn't devastating enough on a personal level, it seems far worse on a social level.
It is a wound that will heal, but can easily be reopened. Do not open this wound for any woman. Do not take this news that she has received lightly. Do not assume she is ok just because she had said in the past that she never wanted kids. Do not assume that reminding her of her other options will make her feel all better.
This hurts. This is devastating. This is a situation in my life that I never expected to face. Do not rub salt in our fresh wounds, and reopen them after they are healed. Hold our hands as we cry, and help us pick up the pieces when we are ready.
