January’s focus was health, and February’s is sexuality… so it’s only fitting that this post bridging January to February be about my sexual health, right? I mean, don’t you wanna know all about my vagina? LOL Nah, I’m kidding, this post won’t be bad, I promise.Well… I hope.
Friday I went to see my reproductive endocrinologist (RE). An RE is a OB/GYN who specializes in fertility and hormonal functioning, including PCOS, which I have. PCOS has been… a nightmare… for me. Specifically, it is why I struggle(d) with obesity and infertility, and why I am at an increased risk for a host of chronic illnesses including cancer. While there is no cure for PCOS it actually can be managed, and I’m doing a pretty damn good job of it!
However. I’m… ready… to have… a child.
I said it.
(I had to say it fast to make sure it was real, lol.)
Now, if you’ve been reading from the beginning of the year, you also know I’m very, very single. Still, as I round the corner to 34… which is exactly one month from today (eek!)… I am acutely aware that I desire to have a child, biologically, myself. And chances are I won’t be meeting, loving, and permanently partnering with a man in the limited amount of time that I consider myself to have. Each woman has her own timeline for when she makes this decision. My timeline is a few years earlier than many other women, but my life is different than theirs, too. Having a baby does not come easily for me or those who have what I have. I have already been on the fertility table filled with meds and crushed hopes times 1 million. I have done the research on fertility and age and I know the truth about just how real the biological clock is, and have no desire to wait until I’m 40 and say “I’m ready now” only to find out it’s way too late/too hard at that point. I also do not desire to adopt. At all.
So there I was, staring at the inside of my uterus on the screen. A space that looked, finally, healthy and ready for a life to inhabit it. It has been a bumpy few months in the reproductive health department… I had a couple cancer scares… saw something in my uterus that wasn’t supposed to be there… had some weird, mystery test results… shit just kept happening. So we kept searching for the causes and treating ghost symptoms. But Friday, finally, I stared at my empty-but-beautiful uterus and was told, “Whenever you’re ready.”
Whenever. I’m. Ready.