Mother’s Day for the childless

Today is Mother’s Day.

This morning, as I have done every single other Mother’s Day since I was old enough to understand, I contacted my mom and wished her a very special day. Then I called my step-mom nd wished her a happy day. And finally wrote a post on my social media pages to all the fabulous moms I know, wishing them a Happy Mother’s Day.

And then I sat back against my pillows in bed, and cried. I’d barely put my phone down on the bed before the tears spilled over my lower lids, streaming down my cheeks.
I should be used to this. It’s the second year in a row now that I’ve had to deal with the inconvenient truth of my predicament. It’s not like Mother’s Day is the only day I think about the fact that I can never have children. I think about it all the time.

I think about it whenever I see kids with their moms, especially when it’s little brunette girls that remind me of myself. I think about it when I hear a baby cry. I think about it when I see children’s clothing in department stores, and advertisements on tv for toys. A day does not go by that I do not think about the fact that I can never give birth myself.

Unfortunately, the nature of my disease and it’s severity makes it extremely hard for me to healthily have a child. Can I technically give birth? Yes. Should I? No, I really shouldn’t. Could it harm or kill me? Very much so, yes.

See, the issue is the chronic pain. I could have a child normally, through childbirth, but only if I go completely off my pain medications. Also my Osteoporosis medication, and depending on what I’m on for my Rheumatoid Disease, perhaps that as well. If I have no drugs in my body, then of course I could technically have a regular pregnancy. Technically, being the key word. See, if I go off all my medications then I would be bed ridden, unable to move at all due to excruciating pain that never ever ends. I would be subject to many illnesses because my immune system would crash, and because of the immobility I wouldn’t be able to exercise at all. So really a “healthy pregnancy” would not be on the table.

I’ve read that for some people with my disease, or ones like it, have had regular pregnancies and or childbirth because their diseases went “dormant” for 9 months. But since this hasn’t been medically proven, and has only happened to a small minority of patients, I wouldn’t put my body in jeopardy like that on the hopes that I get “lucky”. I’m never the lucky one. In fact, most of the time I’m the anomaly that gets all the weird and rare side effects. The point is, I wouldn’t put my body, or child, in jeopardy like that.

I met a girl a few years ago that had a child, whilst having a pretty aggressive strain of Lupus, another autoimmune disease that affects the whole body. She was lucky throughout her pregnancy, being one of that minority grouping whose disease went dormant for the duration. But her child was born with scales. No, not the fishy kind you’re probably thinking of, but more of a horrible skin condition. The baby was covered with patchy, flaky skin, that was red and rash-like, covering her whole body. Luckily, it wasn’t a fatal condition, but the baby had to be kept in an incubator for months, enduring multiple daily tests and treatments. The baby was able to go home after four months, and luckily there wasn’t too much scarring, but… to put your child through that.. I mean I know doctor’s must have warned her about complications of pregnancy due to the nature of her disease.

I guess it’s all about personal choice. But for me, even if I was willing to endure unending excruciating pain, and had the reassurance that said pain wouldn’t kill me, I would still not risk the health and life of my potential child. That’s my choice, my right. It sucks, but it is what it is.

Now, yes technically if I really wanted to be a mother there are other options available to me. I could adopt, though it’s doubtful with the severity of my disease that they would choose me as a capable parent. I certainly couldn’t raise a child on my own, so I would need to be married, and have a support system. Surrogacy is also an option, but I think it would be really difficult for me to watch someone go through the pregnancy of my child. And there’s still the issue of needing a husband for love, support, and of course, sperm.

Plus my clock is ticking down. No, not that one. Not the baby clock. That one has been ticking on and off since I turned 25. And two years ago I even went to a fertility specialist to see what my options were regarding my disease and age. I know my options, very limited as they are. I mean my life clock.  A couple of months ago I went through a patch of heavy depression. I was hung up on the thought of how much longer I had. My disease, being so severe and chronic, was starting to worry me in the sense of time I had left. And so, despite the strong objections of one of my doctors, I set out to figure out an estimate of my time left on earth. Through research, my medical records, and the testimony of a very reluctant doctor, I was given an unofficial “estimate”.

I had a nervous breakdown and sobbed for a week.

Well, having a child of my own was now definitely off the table.

I would have to be accepting of my adorable kitties being my babes. Not hard, since I love them as much as I love my human family. And in a sense, I really am a true mother to them. I feed them, clean them (or rather their bathroom), play with them, nurture them, and give them unending love. I’d starve before I let them go hungry. I put them first whenever making decisions about going out of town or staying with my mom. They really are my children. My furry feline children.

Although, they can’t really understand what I’m saying most of the time… And my Mother’s Day present this morning was a pool of vomit next to the stove. Thanks, Aureus, you’re a gem. But gosh do they give great cuddles when I’m sore or sad. Cats are empathic, and give love and comfort when they feel it’s necessary. Which for me is kind of on a daily basis. So they are great for me. And regarding Mother’s Day… well, I just have to keep my chin up and remember that while I may never a be a mom to a child, I am a mom to Astrid and Aureus.

Also, I am blessed with having the unending love and support of my own mom. A woman who gives her love openly and freely. It’s never a strings attached situation. I don’t ever have to “owe” her anything, and she has never once told me that her love and kindness must be “earned”. She never makes me feel bad about myself, or treats me with disdain. She is a wonderful mom. She is what moms should aspire to be. I love her. She is a great mom and a wonderful grandma to her grandkitties.

Happy Mother’s Day to mothers of all caliber.

 

 

 

Thank you to all those who read my blog and support me in my journey. Please visit my webpage to lend more support, http://www.gofundme.com/sixthousandsteps

 

 

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About sixthousandsteps

In March of 2013, I was diagnosed with chronic Rheumatoid Arthritis and was told my disease was very aggressive. Every day since then has been an ongoing struggle and life lesson on how to stay positive and keep fighting. This blog is a glimpse of how it all came to be, and who knows what the future holds.

Posted on May 8, 2016, in The Journey and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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