Or was it...
Shooting pain, ovarian cysts, and endometriosis, oh my!
Begin from the beginning. The beginning was a sore abdomen, then waking up the next morning in severe pain, then letting it get worse, then giving up and going to the medcheck. Or maybe that was the beginning and the middle; I'm a little baffled as to the details.
In any case, the end was most definitely ovarian cysts and endometriosis. Oh, my. Speaking of Oh! My! have you ever had an interior sonogram? Because, I tell you, if at all possible, don't. That was one of the more unpleasant experiences of my life.
All in all, I am left with only a little pain, unless I sit too long or climb stairs or bend over or cough or or or or. Advil helps. Mostly, I am exhausted, because even if I don't feel the pain, my body knows something is wrong, and it is a busy little beaver trying to rebuild. Perhaps that was the wrong analogy, given the nature of the problem. Ahem.
For an interesting stretch of time, I thought (I only thought because the doctors thought) this was PCOS, and I was going to be handed a verdict of "If you want babies, you better get cooking, before its too late!" If you care to know my thoughts on having children Right. This. Instant. help yourself to a search of babies or children on my blog. I'm sure it will be informative.
I've always thought the Wizard of Oz was about wanting what you can't have, wanting what you don't think you have, and what to do about it. All of Dorothy's dream characters want something for inside themselves--a brain, a heart, courage--these things dwell within. Dorothy wanted something from outside; she wanted a more fantastical, vivid life, and then she just wanted to go back home. Nothing within her. Because Dorothy was searching for something outside her, she can't find it in her dream world, while the rest of her dream-mates can. She has to wake up.
She has to wake up.
For as much as children start in you, the whole point is they are something outside you, something that lives on, something you give to future generations of family and neighbors. A gift, an entailment to the future of the species. You don't repay your parents; you repay by making more, who in turn, do the same. They are something outside of you; you cannot find them by looking within; you have to wake up.
Maybe I am a little awake now, in the yawning stages, where I stretch and squeak but still refuse to get out of bed. Do I like the idea of being a mom? Nope. Do I want to miss the experience? For a few hours, when I thought that might be the case, the answer was hell, no.
It's all about having the toy you never play with taken away from you. It's about wanting what you can't have. It's about lions, and tigers, and bears.
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