Upcoming Hysterectomy Causing Emotional Chaos Within

When I was little I always dreamed of having at least two children, a boy and a girl, which I would teach everything I knew to because you never know what may come in the future. Little did I know my future would come with cancer and no children.

As a teenager in high school I did my damnedest to stay away from boys so I would not get pregnant. I mean when you graduate from 8th grade and there are at least 4 girls already pregnant I am sure my parents started to worry. By the time I was 10 I already knew what a STD was, how to deal with a period when it comes and why it comes, and how to protect myself if anything was to ever happen. What can I say, my dad was a bit crackers and most of the talks he was drunk (not saying this is a bad thing, but alcohol was his way of dealing with his own depression in the 80s and 90s).

By the time I was 19 I had my first boyfriend and was about to lose my virginity to my second boyfriend. I did everything I could to prevent a pregnancy, I even went to a doctor when I was 20 for birth control. I still had that dream of the house with the two kids, but I figured I had time to find the one and watch as everything unrolled.

By the time I hit 30 I was terrified of children. The fact that children these days do not respect their elders, authority figures, or even children of their own age, I was determined to never have them. I was not going to be sent to jail for punishing my child for doing something they shouldn’t have, and I was not going to be held responsible for some kid that decided they were going to be an asshole. I seen enough of it in my old neighborhood, Edgewater, to know I was not going to breed assholes and expect civil society to raise them. Sorry but it should not take a village to raise a child, it should be responsible parents.

Then it happened.

I was about 33 when I started dating a guy that was sweet, seemed like everything a girl could ask for, but I had to dump him like a hot potato because he said he didn’t want any more kids. I was like “What the fuck? Is this guy for real? Did he just deny me children before I even gave up full hope on the boy and girl?” At times I regret making that decision, but one cannot regret we must move on and find that thing that brings us peace.

By the time I hit 35 I was done with the late night drinking parties, going out after work for a few drinks, or even going out period. This was when I started to become a hermit. Sure I had friends that I would go out with or spend a night in, but nothing like it was during my 20s. Let’s just say I was getting too old for that bullshit. I was starting to seriously think about children again.

When I turned 36 was the turning point in my life. I was tested for the BRCA genes and BAM! I was smacked in the face with reality again. Being BRCA 2+ leaves a woman with a lot of shit to deal with and not a lot of options to think about. So the waiting game began.

I am now 39, nearly 4 decades old on this planet, no children, and single. I survived breast cancer like my aunts before me, but now I have a lingering dilemma, where are my two children? As I sit here balling my eyes out, I am left with an emptiness that no one should ever have to deal with, but so many in my shoes have gone through before me.

Today I had my pre-op appointment for a complete hysterectomy next week and I fear the two greatest thing a woman in my position should never have to think about, who will carry on my name and who would want a broken woman.

The past few months have been a bitch to get through with all my tears and emotional bullshit. I have spent many sleepless nights wondering what could have been, but in the end I wake up to reality wishing for a Mulligan so I could turn back the clocks 15 years and make different choices. I can deal with the cancer, but I do not think I can deal with the fact that I have no children.

Why is it we want the one thing that we cannot have the moment we are told we can no longer have it? I want my cake and pie! As of next week I will be depending on others to have the Cake and Pie so I can eat them up.

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  • I feel your pain, Brandi...I went through years of infertility treatments and ending up adopting after a 2 year process that was horrible at best. All of this took 12 years and I became a first time parent at 46. My baby turns 15 next week. Life happens while you are busy making plans. Life ain't easy and anyone who says otherwise is delusional.
    Hugs to you!

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