Today was the appointment with the fertility specialist we have had on the books for weeks. An appointment I had booked in order to confirm my decision to not proceed with fertility treatment, to take out my uterus the next go around for surgery. And when we left, I had hot stinging tears streaming down my face the entire way from Orange County to San Diego. My insides feel as hollow as my uterus. I have a deep ache in my heart I cannot shake. A hole that will never be filled. IVF is our only option, the only way for me to potentially get pregnant and be a mom. IVF is what I swore I would never do- the financial, emotional, physical toll it takes on a family I had decided I would never bring on mine.
And here I am, left with this feeling I would do it tomorrow if I knew it would work, if money was no object, if we didn’t have other plans and life pathways we picked due to my infertility. The doctor made it clear, my age is our one saving grace, though time is ticking. It was not a pleasant car ride home, emotions were running wild for both my husband and myself. Voices were raised, guilt was so thick in the car that the windows seemed to be covered in steam. But I think that was just all of my tears, covering my sight as I numbly stared out the window onto the beautiful, sadly pink sun setting over the endless ocean. Nothing can comfort me right now. No words, no touch, nothing. I feel broken once again. I am broken. Empty.
I am sorry if I sound so hopeless. I know it is just this moment. I know it is the grief I will feel, off and on for my whole life. I have had such a yearning to be a mother, such a desire that it is incredibly powerful, overwhelming, and heartbreaking all at once. It will get better with time, but right now, I am going to wallow in my emptiness, despair, my reality. I am going to be angry that I have Endometriosis, angry that there are terrible treatment options, angry that my infertility is lasting.
Thank you for being there for me, thank you for reading these words full of sadness.
Sending Endolove,
Molly
Living Life with Stage 4 Endometriosis 