This post is going to get introspective, people, and it’s going to get medical, so you can skip this one or not as you like. I’m going to put the majority of it behind the fold, ’cause if you don’t actually personally know me, this may be a bit more information about me than you want to know.
But. I need to vent. So.
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
:
With a hysterectomy looming in my immediate future, there are two sets of thoughts rolling around in my brain.
One, I’m never going to have a period again. I shall never more have to make jokes about Shark Week, or about “having red in my ledger”.
(Side note: best goddamn description of that EVER. To go along with this. Because FUCK YES.)
This is… weird. I mean, yes, I knew this would be coming someday; that’s a basic fact of biology. But given that I’m not even out of my forties yet, I wasn’t expecting this to hit quite so soon. My system hadn’t hit menopause yet, and now I’m going to get to have fun conversations about whether I’m going to need hormonal support before I get closer to an age where menopause would have otherwise been happening.
Two, babies are now apparently officially going to be a thing that Other Women Get To Have and Not Me. And yeah, I kind of knew this already too–because again, in my forties. Having gotten this far without having a child, I knew the chances of it still happening were pretty slim. Because basic facts of medical science, not to mention the basic fucked-upedness of the American health care system.
I’d kind of already emotionally prepared for that, and I’ve been at peace for a while with the idea of being the Eccentric Queer Auntie in the West Who Writes Novels to my brother’s kids, and my sister’s kids, and maybe the kids’ kids eventually.
But that was before my system went, “Yeah, you know that stunt we pulled with the thyroid and your right breast. ABOUT THAT.”
And now when my system goes down for medical maintenance, as it were, we’re pretty much ripping out the entire part of the code base in charge of replication. Because other parts of the repository have already proven compromised, and well, if the code’s buggy, the damn code’s buggy, and who the hell QA’d my genetic code, anyway? Intelligent design, my ass.
Dara points out quite correctly that we could look into preserving my eggs once the ovaries come out. Which had indeed occurred to me. On the other hand, I’m not terribly convinced right now that I want to inflict my clearly problematic genetic code on an unsuspecting infant.
It’s a weird mental space to be in. I’ve never been in a huge hurry to actually be a mother, but I like kids. I totally enjoy it when our friends who have kids come over to the Murk and the kids want me to play with them. I love making faces at babies, and getting them to smile or giggle at me. Rumor has it I’m pretty good with singing a kid to sleep, too.
I’ll be at peace with this eventually; it’s not like my system’s giving me much of a choice, after all. And I’ve already gotten quite a bit of practice having to deal with previous medical vagaries, anyway.
But yeah. Feeling a little weird about this right now, and thoughtful, and wistful.
Sooner or later, this’ll probably show up in a character.
I’ve always thought it a shame that I couldn’t just give my fertility away to someone who would give it a good home. I knew from a very young age that I didn’t want kids, didn’t want to get anywhere near being pregnant, either, and never changed my mind no matter how many people told me I would, but I’ve known so many women who wanted kids and couldn’t that it just seems completely unfair that I should have this thing that they want so badly that I really, really don’t want, and not be able to give it to them.
And, wow, was that a long sentence. Oh, well.
(I come from a long line of very fertile women, and know from experience that I used to be able to (I’m past menopause now, thank goodness) get pregnant pretty much by just looking at a guy’s equipment)
Modular fertility WOULD be pretty cool. Or to extend my anatomy-as-code metaphor a little further, if you could go “Okay, you clearly have a faulty implementation of reproduction.lib, but hang on, I can port some bug fixes over from this other system and reinstall…”
And hey, you’re a writer, I think you’re licensed to use run-on sentences where dramatically appropriate. ;)
Oh, yes. “Here, you can have my copy of reproduction.lib. I’m not using it, and it would slide in so nicely right there.”
See, I want to keep the idea that I can give the original away [g].
Hee, fair enough!
*nods* I grok this, slightly more than you’d think… let’s just say I’m facing not having biological smalls too. I think it’s a pity for both of us, because despite any predisposal either of us has for various BFFNs, what’s between both our ears works *fine*, and there’s also music, and other talents… and the longer we and the next generation live, the more hope there is for having BFFNs not be so N-like. So I’m chagrinned too…. but I too had already kinda made my peace with that… just… having it really stare you in the face kinda gets your attention, don’t it? *hugs*
It does. *hugs*
Though at least in my particular family line, my brother and sister have the whole “having the kids” thing down. And my brother IS on record as having some awesome kids. :)
I’ve always been grateful that my three older sisters started popping sprogs while I was still a teenager. It took a world of pressure off of me.
I’ve never had any familial pressure to reproduce, so at least I lucked out in that respect. :)
I understand. Sorry.
Thanks!
Though I am severely tempted to throw my uterus a Coming Out party.
Mevs: “Your uterus is gay?” Me: “Well, one presumes it’s queer along with the rest of me…”
I actually did this! Well, it was a glass of champagne and a piece of cake to the toast of “Vel overstått”. Which is a sort of tongue in cheek greeting when people meet up after major stressful but fun events like Christmas, signaling you were glad to do it but equally glad it’s over :)
HA! I’ll have to see how fast I can have champagne afterwards. That ain’t happening while I have Vicodin in my system. But cake could. :D
And hee, “Vel overstått”, awesome!
Know what you mean, on both. Absolutely no regrets, but still– irreversible event is irreversible. (I even had about 30 seconds worth of sudden grief that I will never need another tampoon, while the other half of my brain was metaphorically staring at me in disbelief.) And it’s going to take some time until I stop subconsciously counting the days to keep track of my non-cycle. *hug*
I KNOW RIGHT? I was suddenly stricken with “*sniff* I’ll never have another cycle again” and then the rest of my brain is all “WHY IS THIS A PROBLEM?”
And it will be kind of nice to never have to spend money on Midol again. I daresay their sales will do well enough without me. ;)
**hugs** thoughtfully, and welcomes you to the world of Crazy Great-Aunts ^_^
*hugs!* Thanks. :)
you might consider:
. having some ova preserved
. submitting your genome to one of the several public gatherers thereof (23andme.com is probably the cheapest/largest) and having it analyzed for cancer-related genes
. using the above to select ova if you decide to have any fertilized
(n.b., i have my own reasons for not having spawned, which i’d totally talk with you about in person but not here. (they’re not genetic & thus not relevant to the convo really.) just to share the feels, cuz i feel for you. :)
Dara did already point out the eggs question–and my primary care doc asked me whether I’d considered genetic testing, yeah. I’m putting thought into that, in no small part because even if I am no longer going to be baby-capable, my family could find that information valuable for their own medical histories.
Next time we meet, feel free to have that conversation with me. Maybe over Sortilege in Montreal. :)