This is my very first blog post, so you are probably expecting a light-spirited post about something awesome or embarrassing that happened to me today or how I plan on achieving my new years resolution. That being said, you will probably be surprised to read what I’m about to write.
Flashback to two(ish) years ago when I was a senior in high school. I went to the family doctor for a regular check up and my physician asked all the questions that you expect to hear… You know, the ones like:
Do you smoke?
Do you drink?
Yada yada yada…
The answers to these questions are basically programmed into your mind because everybody knows what is about to be asked before you even step in the door of the doctor’s office. Well, all my females out there (girls rule, boys drool!) know all too well the dreaded question of “When was your last menstrual cycle?” That is the one question that is actually hard to answer because who actually keeps track of when their last period was, am I right?
Well for me, that question was just like all the others; the answer was always the same. “Actually I still haven’t started my period,” I’d say kind of shyly, as it was a sore subject for me. What you’re probably thinking is “Why in the world is that a ‘sore’ subject for you?! I wish I hadn’t started my period until the twelfth grade!” That is the reaction I typically got from my friends, yeah at first people teased me about being in high school and not having ‘become a woman’ yet (as I was, and still am, lacking the "womanly curves"), but eventually my close friends always let me know just how jealous they were of me whenever the subject came up.
So back to the checkup… It was clear that my doctor was a little taken back by my answer because she was definitely expecting to here a date, not “I haven’t started yet” from a girl who would be going off to college in the coming year. She asked a few questions and we told her what we had been told many times before by others, things like, “Oh I’m sure it’s just because you are thin and physically active”, and “It’s not rare for girls with your figure to start a little later than average”. My doctor agreed with the fact that there is probably nothing to worry about, especially after we told her that one of my cousins didn’t start until she was a junior in high school, but she thought it would be best to do a couple of tests just to play it safe.
So down the stairs, to the lab, I went. They did a simple blood drawing and I was off.
I walked in the door to my appointment that day thinking I would walk out after a quick reflex check and some vital signs, but now it was just a waiting game.
Flash forward to a few days after my appointment. It’s afternoon and of course, being the sleep-obsessed teenager that I am, I was still sound asleep in bed. I got woken up to my mom and older sister walking into my room. I could tell the second that I opened my eyes that something was different. They walked slowly to my bed and sat at the foot of it when my mom started rubbing my back (if I hadn’t already been getting the vibe that something was wrong, I totally would have been thinking, “why in the world do I not always get woken up so nicely?”).
My mom said, “Hannah, I got a call early this morning with your blood test results. The doctor told me that you have a tumor. It’s a tumor that’s on your pituitary gland”. She was speaking very quietly and obviously nervously, like she was so ashamed to have to be telling me this. Silence came over the room. I had no idea what a pituitary gland even was and I was so scared to hear what was coming that I laid there without saying anything, waiting for her to explain or say what else she knew, anything that would tell me what this meant for me.
My mom and my sister had clearly been talking about this long before they decided to come wake me up. They told me what they heard from the doctors, and explained that the pituitary gland is a tiny gland that is attached to the brain. They quickly reassured me that the tumor was benign (not cancerous) but there were some side effects that were common with this type of tumor.
I won't go into detail about the side effects (you can look those up if you’re really curious) of the tumor, which is scientifically known as Prolactinoma, but there was one in particular that stuck out like a sore thumb. My mom got more serious than I had ever seen before, and somehow got the courage to tell me something that she knew would break my heart.
“Tori and I looked up the side effects of it once we got off the phone with the doctor. Hannah, you may not be able to have children.”
I still am not sure how I didn’t start bawling my eyes out right then and there, but in my mind, that was the worst possible news that I could hear. The only thing running through my mind was “Why me?” I probably asked that question five hundred times, knowing that it would never, ever be answered to my satisfaction.
I am the one that dreams of having children and working with children and spending every waking moment with children. I am the one that asked for baby dolls for my birthday and Christmas until I was twelve years old. I am the one that said all I ever wanted in life was to grow up and have a family, and the one that responded back, “Yes I do. You don’t get it” when someone told me that I didn’t mean that and that I should enjoy my childhood because once I do become an adult, I’ll be asking for it back. I am the one that would have five children by the age of 20 if social norms and husbands and education and money, and every other reason that most teenagers don’t have children, weren’t a factor. I am the one that will skip every meal of the day if that means holding the baby longer.
When I finally got every bit of information out of my mom and sister that they were aware of, I started to research the tumor on my own. I thought I understood what “you might not be able to have children” meant, but I was hanging on to the “might” to comfort myself, still in denial that this could actually happen to me, ME.
It was a real wake up call when I Google searched “infertility due to p…” and the rest of the search automatically popped up before I even had the chance to finish typing it out. This really can happen to me, and there is no way to prepare for it and there is nothing I can do about it and I will never know until the day I try for my first child.
For days on end, my nights consisted of lying in bed and doing hours of research about this horrible tumor that could potentially change my life as I had always pictured it being. I always imagined having three kids of my own and adopting one from another country, but to think that I may not even have the chance to experience birthing my own child and watching that child grow up as half of me and half of the man that I love is devastating.
It is absolutely crazy to have something that seems so unfair happen to you, nobody ever expects ‘that thing that happened to that one person’ to happen to yourself. You really never can assume that you are the exception, because I did and I was wrong and it broke my heart.
I am writing this blog, not to say that I have miraculously overcome the fear and sadness that I have, but to share it with the people that care enough about me to read it and hear what is on my heart. I still have no clue how I will handle these potential trials and tribulations as they approach me, but I know full well that my God is in control and that He has a magnificent plan for me and for the children that I raise in the future, whether they be biological or not.
Things to be thankful for:
Things to be thankful for:
1. I had approximately six years, or 72 entire months, less of dealing with the always dreaded “my time of the month” than most females. You can't deny that that is a pretty awesome side affect, no matter what bad news it brings for you..
2. On a more serious note, Prolactinoma occurs in most women ages 20-50 and is very rare in children. You might be wondering why I’m thankful that I got the disorder as young as I did, but who knows if I would have caught it in its early stage like I did if it weren’t for me not starting my menstrual cycle on my own.
3. I will not be like many women who try to get pregnant, having no idea that they are infertile, and are unable to do so. Even though I do not believe that there is any way for me to fully prepare myself for that kind of news, I will be that much more grateful if, by God’s glory, I am able to birth my own child.
4. As far as my health is concerned, I am very lucky! I am on medication that is supposed to keep the tumor small (and does!) and keep all of my prolactin levels as constant as possible. There was a chance that my medication could completely change my metabolism as I knew it, but so far I have not noticed any drastic/negative changes. As far as blood tests and MRI’s go, everything looks relatively close to normal! So for me, this disorder isn't something that affects my everyday life by any means.
5. Adoption is a very real and very needed thing in today’s society. If it weren’t for parents that are willing and able to go through with the long and, often times, very difficult adoption process, even more children than what we know today would be without a place to call home or parents (and siblings) to call family. I have so many people in my life that have adopted a child and I look up to those parents so much.
6. Being head over heels for children, I knew coming into college that, without a doubt, I wanted to pursue a career that worked hands on with them every day. So whether they are my own or not, I will not be entirely deprived of getting my "kid fill" in the future.
7. God is in control and He knows exactly what He is doing! I am thankful to have grown up in a Christian home and attend awesome churches that have taught me that I can rely on the love and grace of God no matter what comes my way.
8. I have loving friends and family that I know, even though they sometimes tease me about weird symptoms, will always be here for me if I need anything, whether it relates to my tumor or not!
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