I am devastated.
I’m going through the motions of my life, trying to pretend I’m okay when I’m in social situations. Trying not to let on how much I’m hurting, how deeply the pain is lodged. How broken my heart is.
When my uterus collapsed, my dream collapsed.
Two years ago, my body, mind, and spirit in wholeness was called to be a surrogate for alternative families.
And my birthday, five short weeks away, was to be my launch date – when I announced it and started family-finding.
I planned to spend this month writing copy, prepping my website, arranging things, planning contracts, and generally getting ready. I’ve spent the last two years getting in better shape, taking prenatal vitamins, changing my diet, and preparing my body for pregnancy. I’ve been reading books, learning about the process, getting to know the laws. I’ve even got a business name, a gorgeous header, and a url all ready to go.
But then, this.
I knew, going in, that finding a family would be challenging. I’m 33, which is just this side of the age danger zone. I’ve had a miscarriage, which means I’ve got a higher chance of future miscarriage. I’m fat.
But I was called, so I heeded. I never wavered. I knew in my heart I would find someone, I would bring a new life into the world for someone who couldn’t. I knew it, I believed it, I felt it.
And now, this.
And even if I manage to ease all the symptoms of my newfound disorder, it can take a very long time to get back in the right place for bearing children – and I might never be able to do it non-surgically. And, either way, the risks of miscarriage and premature birth skyrocket.
I can’t look a family in the eyes and assure them that my womb is a safe place for their baby. I can’t even look myself in the eye with that assurance.
Because it’s not true anymore.
My body isn’t a safe place to gestate.
I will never have another baby, for myself or for anyone else.
I am so devastated. Heart-sick. Sad to the core of my being, sad all the way to my bones, sad from the inside out and back again.
And, of course, on top of this heart-pain, there’s been a lot of physical pain. I’m cramping, and sometimes it’s quite severe. I’ve done so many Kegels that my Kegel muscle aches all the time. I’m afraid to poop, I’m afraid to sneeze, and sometimes I’m even afraid to pee. I can’t bear so much as the thought of having sex; I can’t even bear the thought of masturbating – I don’t want to be touched sexually whatsoever. I feel so afraid and broken and icky. And it’s been nearly two weeks and hasn’t gotten any better at all.
My body has become a place of fear and worry and heartache. I feel betrayed by my body and by my spirit and by Spirit. I’m not aligned with my self, and the dissonance that causes is as troubling as the heartache.