“The problem is in you.” The doctor said to me in the month of October 2016. That was harsh doctor, you shattered my world by saying that. I know it was your duty to inform be but the way you said it torn my life and more over my hope in million pieces. That was the last day I visited you and I shall never set my foot again.
I did not want sympathy from the doctor or from anyone for that matter. You know how it felt? Imagine someone is scrapping while awake, your hands are tied down and you are helpless. Got it?
Everyone’s fingers were (are) blaming me, condemning me. I myself am a doctor. Never ever I had thought while learning about ‘Infertility’ in medical college that my life would be associated with the word ‘female infertility’.
My AMH (Anti-Mullerian Hormone) is way too low. (I hate you AMH, what did I ever do that you are taking a leave from my blood and my motherhood away from me). I have what is medically termed as, ‘Premature ovarian failure‘, which means my ovaries are failing and the biggest probability of ‘Premature Menopause’. GOSH!!! I am only 29!
The pain, the hurt of struggling with infertility can be understood only by those who go through it. Believe me! Even if you say, ‘I understand’ if you are/not experienced it, you will ‘never feel’ what I am feeling right now, each moment, every day. My words might not convey the pain but if you want to listen, watch the video by HickMan Vlogs how they beat infertility. Gods grace they have two beautiful kids. Megan speaks her heart out and how it hurts when someone ask about, “Aren’t you planning for having kids?”
(PEOPLE! Stop nagging, because when you ask me about when are you planning it doesn’t sound as if you are concerned but probing in ‘what’s wrong’ or rather ‘who has the problem?’)
Every morning I wake up and there is this emptiness which no one can fill even though I try my best to make myself busy. I do not blame God, but I do fight with him/her. What have I done wrong? Have I committed such a big sin that you are punishing me?
I am tired. I am tired of visiting several doctors. I am tired of going through the sonography probe going up my vagina (always hoping to see ‘Hope’). My heart races every time I do a pregnancy test. The result always has been negative as if my fate is having a good laugh at me.
I have stopped everything of it. I no longer expose my body to artificial rays or medicines. I have a healthy uterus and so the option of IVF is open in front of me by donor eggs. I can’t! I can never! How will I hold the baby who has grown in my womb but not ‘mine’? How will I ever say ‘you are my baby’ but not ‘mine’? This thought shudders me!
I do not cry, not in front of others. But I do cry to myself. I do not have a shoulder to cry on. I snuggle myself and the tears find their way out. I had been wanting to share this since ages to someone. The fear always held me back.
I am waiting for the two lines on the strip. I am waiting for the morning sickness. I will adore my stretch marks (as not everyone is blessed with them the reason being carrying a baby). I am waiting for the highest threshold of labor pain.
My ovaries might be failing but my faith isn’t. I still have a spark (tiny it might be) inside me, speaking to me, “I will get pregnant. I will see my’hope’ growing in my womb.” ©kohleyed7
Adventures of A Stay-at-home Mumma 