Sometimes,
a decision that you make in one portion of your life has repercussions that you
can't possible begin to imagine in another portion of you life. When I had our
son in May of 2006, Levi and I made the decision to have my tubes tied. Kevin
was a planned C-Section due to the complications I had birthing (or lack
thereof) with Julia, and the chances of me needing to have another emergency
C-Section were extremely high (in the 90s).
We knew that we didn't want to have more children. Well, that's not right. We made the conscious decision to end our childmaking because of a variety of reasons that were right for us at the time. And, they are still valid reasons. I think that, if certain circumstances were different, we would have made a different decision, but it is what it is, and I know that it was right for us.
But, occasionally, especially in the past month or two, I have been finding myself dealing with a pretty strong bout of baby-fever. It's not like I enjoyed being pregnant enough to want to endure another 9 (well, 10) months of growing a child inside of you (although, it's the most amazing thing you can ever possibly experience). I was in pain and uncomfortable for a lot of my pregnancies. I ended up on bedrest with both - with Julia, it was because of the weight gain (almost 100 pounds) and with Kevin, pre-term labor. The surgeries were rough, and the recovery not much better. Things didn't always go as planned (birth, breastfeeding, etc.), and to say that the years I gave birth were easy would be a lie. (I won't go into the gory details - you want 'em, I'll call you...) And, it's not as if I am wishing for the sleepless nights. But, in a way, I am.
I am a mother, at heart. When it all comes down to it, I know the reason I am here is to raise these two beautiful gifts that we have been given. I have the most amazing kids, and I often wonder what kind of element a third might bring to the table. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would he/she be funny? smart? blonde like Kevin and Julia? What kind of personality would they have? Would they look like Levi or me? Or, some unknown relative that would make us wonder about the past and praise the potential for the future?
And, in these moments, I realize that, if I hadn't had my tubes tied, I would constantly be worrying. What kind of life will I be deeming this child to? I have had drugs and chemo and radiation and all kinds of "stuff" roaring through my body over the past year. What kind of effect must this have had on the little eggs that are still in my ovaries? Will the chemicals have an effect on them?
And, in these times, I wonder about my brother and the offer I made to him. I have offered him my remaining eggs. He and his partner could, potentially, take my eggs, Tom's sperm, and make a baby that would be, biologically, theirs. How cool is that? But, I wonder. At first, my concern came from this: would I be passing on the genes, the markers, the pre-determination of cancer to this child? And, as my very smart brother pointed out, if I have the genetic markers, so does he. Point for Jim. Now, my concern stems from the point of view that, assuming I could find a way to do this and give my brother and Tom this amazing gift, what kind of side effects might this child have because of what I have been through. Can I, in all fairness to them and to this potential child, go through with it? What kind of life would that mean for this child? And, then, for them?
It all comes back down to options and decisions. I know me - if/when this comes about, I will do what I can to give my brother and Tom my eggs. No worries there. But, this damn cancer throws a wrench into another well-laid plan. So, we will need to add some steps to this process, if the time ever comes. We will need to make sure that all of our i's are dotted and all of our t's are crossed, and make an informed decision. I won't be able to carry the baby - that much is already determined. This was a non-issue from my second birth - too much scar tissue from the two C-Sections.
But, a little bit of me holds out hope that, one day, I could once again be party to the creation of a child. A person. A being with so much greatness inside of them that they only need be given the chance to let it burst forth. I know it will be emotional to see this child that is biologically mine, and to know that I will be aunt to him or her, never Mommy. But, to have this ability to give a gift of this magnitude is just unbelievable.
This might not ever come to fruition. I will be 33 next month. The little Michelle-eggs aren't getting any younger. I could always have them extracted and freeze them - that's a viable option that would work. Who knows? The unknown is often what brings us the most pleasure. I hope that, in this case, this is true.
We knew that we didn't want to have more children. Well, that's not right. We made the conscious decision to end our childmaking because of a variety of reasons that were right for us at the time. And, they are still valid reasons. I think that, if certain circumstances were different, we would have made a different decision, but it is what it is, and I know that it was right for us.
But, occasionally, especially in the past month or two, I have been finding myself dealing with a pretty strong bout of baby-fever. It's not like I enjoyed being pregnant enough to want to endure another 9 (well, 10) months of growing a child inside of you (although, it's the most amazing thing you can ever possibly experience). I was in pain and uncomfortable for a lot of my pregnancies. I ended up on bedrest with both - with Julia, it was because of the weight gain (almost 100 pounds) and with Kevin, pre-term labor. The surgeries were rough, and the recovery not much better. Things didn't always go as planned (birth, breastfeeding, etc.), and to say that the years I gave birth were easy would be a lie. (I won't go into the gory details - you want 'em, I'll call you...) And, it's not as if I am wishing for the sleepless nights. But, in a way, I am.
I am a mother, at heart. When it all comes down to it, I know the reason I am here is to raise these two beautiful gifts that we have been given. I have the most amazing kids, and I often wonder what kind of element a third might bring to the table. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would he/she be funny? smart? blonde like Kevin and Julia? What kind of personality would they have? Would they look like Levi or me? Or, some unknown relative that would make us wonder about the past and praise the potential for the future?
And, in these moments, I realize that, if I hadn't had my tubes tied, I would constantly be worrying. What kind of life will I be deeming this child to? I have had drugs and chemo and radiation and all kinds of "stuff" roaring through my body over the past year. What kind of effect must this have had on the little eggs that are still in my ovaries? Will the chemicals have an effect on them?
And, in these times, I wonder about my brother and the offer I made to him. I have offered him my remaining eggs. He and his partner could, potentially, take my eggs, Tom's sperm, and make a baby that would be, biologically, theirs. How cool is that? But, I wonder. At first, my concern came from this: would I be passing on the genes, the markers, the pre-determination of cancer to this child? And, as my very smart brother pointed out, if I have the genetic markers, so does he. Point for Jim. Now, my concern stems from the point of view that, assuming I could find a way to do this and give my brother and Tom this amazing gift, what kind of side effects might this child have because of what I have been through. Can I, in all fairness to them and to this potential child, go through with it? What kind of life would that mean for this child? And, then, for them?
It all comes back down to options and decisions. I know me - if/when this comes about, I will do what I can to give my brother and Tom my eggs. No worries there. But, this damn cancer throws a wrench into another well-laid plan. So, we will need to add some steps to this process, if the time ever comes. We will need to make sure that all of our i's are dotted and all of our t's are crossed, and make an informed decision. I won't be able to carry the baby - that much is already determined. This was a non-issue from my second birth - too much scar tissue from the two C-Sections.
But, a little bit of me holds out hope that, one day, I could once again be party to the creation of a child. A person. A being with so much greatness inside of them that they only need be given the chance to let it burst forth. I know it will be emotional to see this child that is biologically mine, and to know that I will be aunt to him or her, never Mommy. But, to have this ability to give a gift of this magnitude is just unbelievable.
This might not ever come to fruition. I will be 33 next month. The little Michelle-eggs aren't getting any younger. I could always have them extracted and freeze them - that's a viable option that would work. Who knows? The unknown is often what brings us the most pleasure. I hope that, in this case, this is true.
Comments:
Carol
Urban said...
If
you thought chemo was bad just wait until you do injectable fertility drugs. Been
there, done that, don't want to do it again. Your ovaries grow to the size of
lemons and if you're lucky you get 5-10 follicles to choose from and hopefully
2-4 of those will be large enough to harvest. Your abdomen will swell
enormously and you'll retain water while hoping that your ovaries don't burst
which occasionally happens. I would tell you more off-blog if you're
interested. Not fun. Would only recommend doing it if you didn't already have
children.
May
29, 2009 at 7:58 PM
No comments:
Post a Comment