Getting real.

This are officially getting real. I have the date set for my first BRCA-related surgery. On 1/16/18 I will be getting my BSO…saying farewell to my ovaries and tubes. And I’m meeting with a new breast surgeon this week and hope that I can get a date set for my mastectomy and reconstruction this spring.

As these surgeries are moving more from the abstract to reality I am starting to feel the loss of it all in a new way. While I have no doubt that this surgery is the right choice for me…I still have that nagging doubt in my mind saying “Is now the right time?” I know logically that this voice comes from my fear and my sadness. The deep sense of loss I feel knowing I will never have another biological child. The fear I have about all of the ways that surgical menopause could impact my body.  The sadness that comes with the sense that I am disappointing people…my spouse, our families, by choosing not to try for another baby. When I let myself truly feel all of that, it really fucking hurts.

Most days lately I feel like all I can manage is to not suck at my job and not suck as a parent. Anything beyond that is out of reach. I’ve neglected friendships, been a less-than-ideal partner, isolated myself, stepped back from hobbies, and passions, and the things that make me feel like a whole human. Then there are other days, good days, when I want to cook an nice dinner, take a walk around the neighborhood, and read a book…or maybe even go to the gym, or yoga, or make some music. I try to enjoy those days when I have them but accept that when I feel like I can’t…it’s not because I’m a failure or because I don’t care…it’s because there is just too fucking much going on right now that I’m trying to manage. Scheduling surgeries. Mourning a pregnancy loss. Mourning the future children that I will not have. Imagining my body cut open, where my scars will be, the body parts that will be removed. Coping with my stressful and emotionally draining job. Parenting a toddler. Researching adoption. Living in a torn up, half unusable house.

If that all sounds a tad dramatic…I’m not trying to have a pity party or live in a woe-is-me sea of despair over here. I’m just trying to be real with myself about where I’m at and how I’m feeling…and give myself some freedom to not be 100% of top of my shit right now.  Because if I really AM being honest, the last 6 months have probably been the hardest and saddest of my life.

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