I finally got off my comfortable cushion of denial today, and went to see the GP. When my period starts, I generally get quite depressed as I remember how pathetic it is, but when it finishes, I manage to forget all about it, and try to convince myself that it’ll all be better next time. And then it isn’t, and I am disappointed again. I decided to do something about it, and get that second opinion; finally.
I bypassed Stupid GP (“Asherman’s doesn’t happen!”) this time, and went to see a man. Mostly to flummox him, by my Women’s Issues and make him agree to my requests. I showed him the scary pictures of my uterus, although the effect may have been diminished somewhat by the fact that he had to ask me what he was looking at. I explained what had been happening, and he agreed to a second opinion. He did say that Lovely Gynae Woman was a very good gynaecologist, (which I agree with, I just feel that this may not be her forte) but is sending a letter off to Gynae Man Who (Whom?) I Hope Will Cure Me.
I hope to hear from Gynae Man (etc) soon, if not I will bribe his secretary.
Last night, on the other hand, I sort of became a student again. I’ve been thinking about this for ages, and started doing a course last night at a local uni. It’s an introductory thing, to see if I like/get on with the subject. It was intriguing; there was a huge range of people there, from 23 year-olds, to 66 year-olds, and most of them wanted to change their career. Coming from a background of medicine, where I was thought weird for leaving, it was quite refreshing to be in a room of people who also wanted to leave their jobs, and many of them for similar reasons.
There was a girl there, who I was speaking to during the break, who has a 4 month old daughter. Incidentally, the same age as our daughter would be, had she lived. She asked me if I had children, I said no. She then said “Oh, don’t you want them?” As if that is the only possible reason why we don’t have any yet. Living ones anyway. I didn’t know what to say. Do I say “Actually she died, but she would have been the same age as your daughter,” or “Well I had one miscarriage, one or two chemical pregnancies, and now I have Asherman’s Syndrome, thanks to an incompetent gynae registrar, and my chances of being able to conceive again are significantly reduced, let alone manage to give birth to a live baby.”
I couldn’t say either of those things. Mostly because I had only just met her, and for all I know she could be a psycho (but probably not). Also because on first meeting someone I a) don’t want to share my life-story, and b) don’t want to make her run screaming away from me, shouting “Too much information!”
I thought about completely denying my desire for children and saying something like “Ugh! Children! No thanks, I like my lie-ins and ridiculously luxurious holidays thank you,” or “I am allergic to children.” But that didn’t seem right either. Of course I could have said “Mind your own business,” but that would have been a bit rude.
So in the end, I muttered something along the lines of “Yes, we do, but it’s a bit, er, difficult…” Even that made her stop talking, look away, and look uncomfortable.
So what do you say? Is there a happy medium where people will realise that it’s not easy for everyone, and that perhaps wanting children isn’t enough. Do you have to deny the fact that you want them, or give away the most personal details of your malfunctioning reproductive system?
Anyway, I now have homework to do, for the first time in, well, a while. So I should get off my bum and do it, instead of watching property porn with Kirstie and Phil.