“You’re too young for this diagnosis.”
I understand that. I’m only 34, and yet here I am, facing the harsh reality of menopause. Having undergone 15 times the radiation typically associated with triggering menopause, I now find myself contemplating purchasing senior multivitamins at the store.
“At least you won’t have to deal with periods anymore.”
That’s true, but the absence of my menstrual cycle shatters my dreams of expanding my family. When it came time to begin treatment, my doctor didn’t discuss fertility preservation options. The focus was solely on the urgency of starting treatment, which would inevitably lead to menopause. The choice to consider saving my fertility felt non-existent; I could either invest a fortune into uncertain chances of having more children or risk cancer spreading by delaying the treatment.
I had barely just welcomed my first child and wasn’t ready to be done. More than anything, I felt my autonomy stripped away from me.
As I navigate this new reality, I still hold onto my menstrual products, perhaps like keeping jeans that no longer fit in the hope that one day, they might. I don’t truly expect to need them again, but I stash them away, hidden at the back of my closet.
“At least you have one child.”
I am profoundly grateful for my son. He is my beacon of hope and strength. However, it stings every time I hear of someone else expecting a baby. I feel a mix of joy for them and deep sorrow for myself, making it difficult to reconcile such opposing feelings.
Gratitude doesn’t erase my longing for more children. During my pregnancy, I envisioned having both a son and a daughter. The image of my daughter often returned to me during prenatal yoga classes, and it was a vision I clung to when faced with the cancer diagnosis. I can’t leave this world yet; I am meant to have a daughter.
“You could always adopt.”
Perhaps my daughter is out there somewhere. However, after witnessing the emotional challenges of adoption, I’m not in a place to tackle that journey. There are days when I struggle just to keep up with my son, questioning if I could manage more children. The stress of the adoption process could also strain my marriage, which has already faced significant challenges.
In the meantime, I find comfort in the belief expressed by another mother battling cancer: “The right people will enter our family when the time is right. I believe our family isn’t finished yet.” For more insights into fertility options, you might find our other blog post on intracervical insemination helpful. Additionally, for those considering home insemination, Make a Mom offers great resources and kits. For comprehensive information on pregnancy, check out Womens Health.
In summary, navigating menopause at a young age is a complex emotional journey. While I cherish my son deeply, the desire for more children remains, intertwined with feelings of loss and longing. Though my path has changed unexpectedly, I hold onto hope for what the future may bring.