Happy Birthday, have some menopause.

Okay so the irony about all of this is I was dreaaaaaading my birthday this year. The big 28!! The 'almost thirty' birthday. I should just save all that angst for 29 but I like to start things early. My birthday is on Monday but I thought a good blog reflection was due.

It's ironic but I was ready to start counting gray hairs this year.

Well, thanks to good ole cancer we can have some early menopause, arthritis (what I've been told to compare bone pain to), and a big bald head.

Jesus John Wayne- I'm going to feel really old.

Wait, menopause?

Yup.

Menopause at age 28. Who is not having a midlife crisis now?

Anyone else that can work out their health class info might have put together by now that means no more babies.

We are not sure on this part. It might go away and I could have more babies one day. Or it might not.

Now what is really ironic about all this is I was talking pre-diagnosis (so many things feel 'pre-cancer' at this point) about how I DIDN'T want any more kids. That I was good with Adrian and being able to focus 100% of my money, attentions, love, and time on just him. That an only child is often a happy, spoiled child. **Spoiled to a reason- back off Super Nanny.

But now that I'm told I might never be able to have more kids again? My ovaries are screaming.

For a rainbow baby? I don't know, whatever. For all the babies. Rainbow, polka dot, paisley. All the god damn babies.

Cancer really takes a stab at your femininity. What defines a woman? What about women with cancer that takes their entire lady parts? Their breasts? What makes them still a woman?

What makes all of us women?

I'm getting pretty deep on this but the news of my shattered fertility hit me like a blow to the ulcers. The instant that really sunk in, at Aurora Baycare, I went to a chapel. Not because I'm religious. Because I'm not (and no thanks) but because it was the only place to be alone. And I just sat with my thoughts. With thoughts of ten tiny toes possibly disappearing forever. Thoughts of little bumps in the night during pregnancy. Thoughts of how I felt when I first held Adrian. Thoughts of the fierce pride I still feel when he comes into a room. A mother should never have to give up that choice. A woman should not have to give up that choice.

But in the sake of killing cancer, it had to go.

I was offered the chance to see a fertility specialist at my oncologist appointment. At first I was like, "Yes! Freeze those eggs!"

And then I realized that:

1. It is not covered by insurance (I doubt this is the case for many insurance plans)
2. And it is insanely expensive. I could put Adrian through a few years of college first.
3. And it would delay my chemo and thus delay killing this tumor.

Well, so I skipped that option. I want this cancer dead. I want this thing gone that has tainted my life, my family, my household, and my friends. Even if I never get more babies, the cancer will die.

And that's the important part.

What makes a woman?

Not fertility, not hair, not perky tits, or a secure vagina.

My spirit, my essence, my soul. My love for delicate feminine acts. Polka dot nails with pearl coated fashion rings.  The click of high heels on tile floors. The roles of womanhood that embrace you in every stage of your life. Being a mother. My son's face when he squishes up his nose for a special momma kiss. The way my body was able to breathe life into a child and carry him into this world. Breastfeeding him for 16 glorious months. That connection I feel (that being a CIS woman- I am lucky to have) to my gender as a power structure. As something to embrace as spirituality. That powerful act of knowing my spirit is not defined by my body.

Love yourself and accept the things life brings you. I was lucky to have one beautiful child. If he is all I get, I am still luckier than most. <3

But if it turns out I won't ever be able to have more children, I will mourn for that. Mourn for that possibility, for that choice being taken away from me. Having choices ripped away from you can make you feel so helpless but this is another choice I was forced to make for the better of my health, finances, and family. I grew up like an only child even though I have older siblings. I got to go to Disneyland. Three times. I mean, c'mon.

More Disneyland for Adrian- that's what this means.

Come on Mickey Mouse- we'll come hug you after this is all over.