I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this post for almost a week. Each time I’ve attempted it, I cry or go off on tangents or feel like there’s just not enough space to write it all out.
Two weeks ago, I (finally) had a doctor’s appointment in the right place, with the right doctor.
While we’re still waiting for blood work to confirm, the diagnosis on the top of the list is PCOS.
Which drastically lowers our already slim chances of having children on our own. Like I expected, the doctor immediately started pushing for me to go on birth control if I’m not trying to get pregnant immediately. Also, like I expected he would, the doctor discussed that using Pre-Genetic Diagnosis (PGD) was our best option for getting pregnant. It’s also the most expensive. I could seriously buy a car for the same amount of money. And there’s no telling how many attempts we’ll need before a PGD/IVF pregnancy “sticks”.
I won’t even try to lie about how I handled the news. There was an entire day of ugly, snot-faced, so-hysterical-I-can-barely-breathe crying. I screamed over and over “It’s not fucking fair. It’s just not fair” on the phone to my mom. My SIL threw together “operation get Jenn out of the house” that night, to save my from my sorrows, for which I am forever grateful.
Sometimes, I am reminded that being a “crippled girl” is not just a cutesy tagline for a website. I know I will never run a marathon or ride a bike again. I will use a wheelchair for the rest of my life. And at some point, I won’t be able to raise my arms to brush my hair.
But being faced with the possibility of not being able to have kids, after coming so far with working around the Muscular Dystrophy (which I assumed was my biggest obstacle), makes me feel more disabled than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.