I wanted to take this moment to thank you for taking away from me the one most important thing to me - the chance for me to become a mother, . . . to be able to bring a life into this world, . . . to be able to give my child the love, nurturing and support that I know are there inside of me, . . . to be proud that the little person I was watching develop was a part of me, and of my husband.
I know he feels this too - all we ever wanted was a chance.
You were first diagnosed around the time we married, although I had known for much longer that something was not as it should be. During those years, you caused me so much pain, discomfort, unhappiness and illness that I struggled more than you would imagine. You left me feeling so low, and all the time I kept up the hope. Going through treatments the Doctors recommended, with the possibility of a chance, although I knew that because of you, that chance was so much lesser.
It never happened for me and with every treatment and procedure I went through, the chance faded even more. . . . and then you dealt me the ultimate blow . Your incessant way left me feeling weaker and as my health declined, the moment I'd dreaded came where the Doctors told me that there was nothing further that could be done. That the only chance my health would ever improve was to have a hysterectomy, which would remove you, and all the cruel problems you had left me with. To me, this seemed the only solution to my problems, and a way that at least I would feel healthy again.
I was never fully prepared for how this would leave me feeling. I felt hate for myself, I felt that I had let my husband down . . . my parents . . . our family, and so many others, so dear to me. I was no longer capable of producing a son . . . daughter . . . grandchild . . . neice . . . nephew. Above all else, I felt so very alone, isolated, unsupported and abandoned, particularly by my Mum and my Sister; because they would not even talk to me, listen to my feelings about what had happened, and what that meant. I never wanted sympathy, simply for them to understand.
To this day, despite trying numerous times, I have never been allowed the time with them, or been afforded that close bond my Mum has with my Sister and her family; that feeling hurts so much, and leaves a scar which I sense will never heal inside of me.
People would say to me all hope is not lost, you can adopt. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing we'd like more than to provide a child with a loving and permanent home. It is hard to explain, though, and for others to understand that this is not always the simple solution it would seem and I'm not convinced that it would truly help.
The most I get from family is "you are so much better than you were, that's got to be worth more than anything else". It's really hard for me to get past this without feeling a jealousy and immense pain. Feelings get confused and do not make sense. I feel excitement and at the same time a huge sense of guilt at my own jealousy every time someone I know is expecting, or whenever there is a new baby. A sense of being left behind and that others just don't want to know when they are so absorbed, crooning over a baby, making comments about not having had a little one to fuss over for such a long time. I wear a mask at those times, so that others cannot see how their comments really leave me feeling, and then when I'm alone I pay the price for holding back those feelings.
I go through the 'why me' feelings so regularly and then conclude that it had to be someone, and at least others I know don't have to experience those feelings I do. I often go through times where I wish that it was me, just for once, but then I remember that that will never actually happen, and just as quickly that bubble bursts and the 'what ifs' start all over so that the circle never ends.
I thought I was beyond the feelings - the confusion, the pain, the anger, the high emotion, the low feeling . . . only to experience another blow as the signs of menopause now kick at me. The symptoms leave me feeling a mess as they hit me so hard, and with such intensity. The fight with anxiety is also so intense that at times it leaves me feeling more emotionally hurt and drained then I ever imagined I could, with everyone expecting me to be that same person, to do the same things, to continue to wear that mask and never let them down.
I will keep fighting, to get back the me that now feels so lost, the big hole that has torn into me, but know this - without you life would have been so different and I'm not sure I will ever truly heal.