I haven’t posted here in such a long time, and it wasn’t really on purpose. I have been on the path to accepting the fact that I most likely won’t have children for a while, and in that process, I started running out of things to say. I still struggled (and continue to) with comments some people make, with the idea that my husband’s parents will never experience the joy of being grandparents, and that my amazing husband will never be a father. I still makes me sad when I think of those things, and I realized that it should, really. For me, though, accepting our situation means acknowledging these feelings, and then moving on. I don’t want to dwell on it any longer than is necessary, and in my efforts to move on, I ran out of things to say. After a while, I intended to come back and write something to explain my departure, but between switching URLs and not posting, it seemed like no one was really out there reading anymore.

Then, in May, I had an abnormal pap test. My doctor was concerned, and based on the results, had me come back for a colposcopy and biopsy. She thought things looked pretty good, and considering the appearance of my cervix and the fact that I had never had an abnormal pap before, felt that we just just have to keep an eye on things. Unfortunately, the results came back with severe dysplasia (or CIN III), and I had to have a LEEP procedure to remove the abnormal cells (it’s still crazy to me that things can go from totally normal to severe in a year!). I’m recovering now and am doing pretty well, but it’s been a scary experience. I know it’s somewhat common, but the quick progression from being healthy (although infertile) to having pre-cancerous cervical cells has been unnerving and at times, pretty upsetting.

I thought about posting about that whole experience, but my thoughts are still kind of scattered. Most of the time, I think about how grateful I am that my doctor found it before something worse happened, how glad I am that I even went to the doctor (I could have just as easily blown it off), how thankful I am that there are treatments to prevent this from turning into full-blown cancer (although I realize not all dysplasia turns into invasive cancer), and how lucky I am to not have to worry about all the money this has cost me (I have insurance, but due to some billing issues, I had to pay for the procedure up front and am waiting to get reimbursed). Other times, I am scared – wondering how long I’ll have to deal with this, and worrying about what will happen next – but I keep reminding myself what my doctor said: “At some point, I am confident that this will alll be behind you.”

There is a part of me that has not been able to reconcile that I was trying to have a child for so many years, came to terms with it, and now am here…still being poked and prodded, but for totally different reasons. I feel lucky, in some ways, that we had come to terms with being childless, because I am really not concerned about how well my cervix will function to carry a child in the future (since it more than likely won’t). At the same time, though, there’s something ironic about the whole thing. I can’t put it into words yet, but I feel like my mind is trying to link these experiences in a way that I haven’t completely figured out. I will say that I am so much more concerned about being healthy and living a long life than I am about having a child or  feeling bad about being childless. I don’t mean to trivialize how other people may feel, but for me, I just feel really fortunate to be able (hopefully) to live a long, happy life. Those feelings have made it even harder to post here, because I don’t want to sound cold or insensitive or not supportive.  I just wasn’t going to post anything at all. After reading this post and the related comments about ghost blogs, though, I reconsidered.

I’ve decided this will be my last post. I’ll leave the blog up for a while (or indefinitely), but I just don’t have that much more to say. I hope I’m able to put this pre-cancerous cervix issue behind me, but I really don’t want to think or write about it more than I already have. I feel almost the same way about infertility, except that it really feels like a chapter in my life that has ended, or a door that’s closed. I’m grateful for that. I’m so thankful for the support I’ve gotten here, and I love seeing how many women I used to communicate with are now mothers. For those that aren’t, I hope they’re able to find success or happiness in some way – whatever that may be.

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