Shannon and the Hostile Uterus

I have a hostile uterus, which I assume means that my cervix is like that space ship in Gallagha and my husband’s sperm are the little aliens tormenting it and the job of the space ship is to destroy the taunting sperm before they invade my uterus.  I think that’s the medical explanation that they use in Uteruseses 101 at John Hopkins.

Or maybe I don’t actually have a hostile uterus and my husband never pays attention to what I say.  One of the two.

The truth is that I have  something called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) which is a fancy way of saying that my periods are unpredictable and my chances of getting pregnant are pretty slim.  When I was informed of this by the doctor, I was pretty surprised considering that I have a perfectly healthy 12 year old that I had when I was 19 years old.  It’s like the old saying goes:  “Meet a man on Yahoo who claims to be sterile when you’re 18 and an idiot, get pregnant immediately.  Get married in your 30s for the first time and have the means to support a child, never get pregnant again.”

I love my daughter.  That kid is pretty much amazing.  I’ve always wanted multiple children, though.  So at the age of 31, after having finally met a man worth my time and getting married, I was ready to have another baby.  We tried for months, but nothing happened.  So I went to the doctor and explained what was happening, and after asking a few questions he determined that I had PCOS.  I’m sure he explained what it was, but all that I heard was “You’re never going to have a baby”.

He put me on some hormonal birth control for a few months to hopefully regulate my cycle, so that’s where I’m at now.  We’re hoping it works and that I can get good and knocked up soon, or else some more drastic measures will be needed.

I do not like my body telling me what I can and cannot do.  So I refuse to listen to some “diagnosis”.  The doctor seems hopeful that he can get me pregnant somehow (I’m sure my husband will be asked to assist in some ways), and I am hoping that this is only a temporary set back.  I’m 32 years old now, and I have almost a teenager.  I hear a clock ticking louder and louder every day in my head and I need it to shut up and stop stressing me out, but it won’t.  I need to let go and let God deal with this, but why is it so hard to do that?

In the meantime I get to enjoy mornings with no sickness, looking at my feet, not having to pee every three and a half minutes, and full nights of sleep.  Sometimes life doesn’t happen how we plan it, but  if it did how boring would that be?


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