Foreboding vs. Hope
She woke up in the middle of the night and while I was rocking her I was struck by the realization that I might have to have my uterus removed. I want children. I wasn’t sure before, but now I know I want my own kids.
I started crying. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a bawl-fest. I haven’t cried in a few months and I assumed that once I did, it would be an all out emotional breakdown. It wasn’t, but that may be that’s because I had the comfort of holding McKayla in my arms, with her head against my chest…
I know I’m fucked up, but I also know I will be a good mother. Hell, all I have to do is the opposite of almost everything my mother did and I’ll be fine. My child(ren) would be sheltered from my personal issues as much as humanly possible.
Besides the lack of a suitable father there is another kink in my dream; I’m not even sure I can have children. I have doubt because I’ve had 3 miscarriages and I had cancer cells growing on my cervix. I’m scared that the cancer cells may have returned, but I can’t let my fear put off the exam any longer. After being fifteen months overdue on my pelvic exam I made an appointment for this coming Tuesday. I am overwhelmed with a terrible sense of foreboding, but I have to get through it. I will try to maintain a sense of hope.
About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.