Someone once told me “Oh you’re 22? Did you know you are supposed to be married by 23 and have the first of your two children by 25?” I just laughed that comment off at 22 and thought society projects the Betty homemaker image on us from the day we are born. No one ever told me growing up that I would have to fight like hell to hang on to what little fertility I have. No one never told me that at 27 I would lose a baby, under go a D&C that would leave my uterus punctured and scarred. No one ever told me that Asherman’s syndrome exists. Not even the surgeon at Allina told me that Asherman’s syndrome was a risk.
Then again the surgeon who did my D&C was so full of herself that she bragged “I’ve never punctured a woman in my 20 plus years of practicing medicine.” I remember telling her “don’t be so full of yourself, I am probably going to be the one you puncture.” With that sentence I jinxed myself and my fate was written on the wall. A fate I refused to succumb too. Two years ago a careless surgeon sealed my fate and took my fertility away. I’ve learned alot of scary things in the past few months. Things like if I were to carry a child to term my uterus could literally tare away or the baby could punch a whole in the uterine wall. If either of these things happened we would both be in serious trouble. Needless to say any pregnancy would be high risk.
As of right now I am single and have no prospects waiting in the wings. Sometimes I think being in a relationsip might make the decision to have the surgery easier. Then again I was without my partner on the day I had the original procedure. I have taken a lot of time to think about this and I can honestly say I am scared. Scared right out of my shoes. This procedure is a one time shot and there is a 50/50 chance for a successful outcome. I have a 50/50 shot of carrying a child to term one day. If the surgery doesn’t work I am without options. It’s hard for me to put my eggs in one basket when I know the odds. The odds are not in my favor, yet I have a small shred of hope that it will work.
I didn’t have a choice in this matter. It happened. Because of one careless surgeon my uterus is broken. Part of me wants to do everything I can to protect what I have left. Then again I think to myself “one day you just might be in a relationship or married. What if he wants children?” That question rings through my mind. They say its best to do the surgery now and not wait until I am ready to have children. If I waited not only will my dream be at stake, but his dream (who ever he is) would be at stake too. I do not want to be that woman who says “Yea we could have had a baby if ya know I had done the surgery when I was 29. I was single then, so oh well.” I have come to terms with my dream slipping away, however I will fight like hell to save the dream for whoever my future partner is. I just can’t think about today. I need to think about my future and how this will impact the rest of my life.
I have interviewed surgeon after surgeon and finally picked one. There are no do overs, there are no other options. I have to leave it up to fate and let lady luck ride. Hopefully she lands on red and I come out a winner.