Watching my mother being a mum filled me with a desire to have kids one day. I was just a child but I had dreams. I dreamed of growing up and falling in love with a handsome man. I often imagined; “We will have a grand wedding, with lots of music. I will be a princess and he will be a prince....CONTINUE READING
It will all be perfect. My handsome prince and I will have beautiful babies. I will be a wonderful mother, just like mummy.” I pictured how I would read bedtime stories to my children every night. “We will be so close that they will tell me everything. Just like you and me.” I told my mum once.
She usually smiled when I babbled on about my future children. Sometimes she’d say, “First, you have to study hard and grow into a big woman. Then you can have as many children as you want.” That statement was something that guided me through life. When I grew into a teenager, I knew for a fact how my life was going to turn out.
I didn’t want much out of life, not really. I just wanted to get through school and get a good job. Then I will live my childhood dream of marrying a good man. And our house will be filled with children. At that age, nobody told me that life has a way of surprising us. So I lived my life without a care in the world.
At fifteen, every girl I knew who was my age was showing signs of womanhood. They had developed breasts and gotten their periods, and curves in all the right places. Every girl my age, except me. My chest was as flat as six year old’s chest. At first, I was concerned, especially because my mates teased me at school.
When I told my mum about the bullying and the teasing, she comforted me, “Don’t worry, you are just a late bloomer. You will hit puberty soon and they will be put to shame.” I held on to those words and ignored everyone.
After a while, there were still no changes in my body. I still had no breasts, no curves, and most importantly I hadn’t gotten my period. That’s the part that concerned my mother most.
She took me to the hospital just so we can confirm that everything was alright. The doctors run a series of tests. When the results came out, the specialist attending to me said, “Your test results show you have a rare congenital disorder called Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser Syndrome.”
My mother and I asked “What?” The doctor went on “MRKH affects the female reproductive system. What this means for you is, that your womb has not developed properly. Your cervix and vagina are also underdeveloped.”
“Is there a cure?” My mother asked.
“She will have to undergo surgery to expand the length of her vagina before she can engage in intercourse.”
“What about childbirth?”
It was the only question on my mind. The look the doctor gave me answered my question before she spoke the words. “No. You will not be able to biologically have children.”
The tears I was holding back broke free. I cried so much I don’t remember how we got home. For days, my mother could not console me. I wasn’t just crying over my diagnosis. I was grieving the death of my childhood dreams.
it took a long time before I came to terms with my condition. At some point, we make peace with the burdens of our lives no matter how heavy they are. Making peace with the inevitable marks life easier. People continued to make fun of my body. I was mostly referred to as “The weird-looking girl.” It was a rough ride, to be honest.
Because of this, I haven’t been able to have any meaningful relationships with men. When a man tries to get close to me, I push him away. I ask myself, “What’s the point? I don’t have the body to interest a man. I can’t even engage in shuperu until I undergo surgery.
Above all, I can’t have children, the one thing I’ve always wanted. Why should I entertain a relationship when I know it won’t lead anywhere?”
Occasionally a few men broke down my walls. I confided in them about my condition. Some of them didn’t believe me. One of the guys said, “I don’t care about whatever condition you have. I love you and I want to be with you.
We can always adopt a child.” I felt his sentiments would change if we get married and we start facing pressure to have kids. I did not want to risk that kind of stress so I pushed him away. He tried hard to hold on to me but I was determined not to start anything I can’t finish. In the end, he had to let me go.
As I got older I got lonelier. I imagined how my life would have turned out if I wasn’t sick, and it made me sad. I started craving love and affection. I wanted to hold hands with someone I love and know that they are mine. My determination to stay out of relationships weakened.
That’s when I met a man called Romeo. He swept me off my feet with ease. I didn’t even see it coming. Before I realized I was head over heels in love with him.
Romeo was kind and very thoughtful. He made me feel confident about my body. It was the way he looked at me like I was a unicorn in a magical land. I was happy. Probably the happiest I’ve been since my diagnosis.
Sadly, my happiness was short-lived when I found out that Romeo was a married man.
It broke my heart into pieces. When I confronted him he said, “Yes, I’m married but I love you. You and I, we are perfect for each other.” Out of curiosity, I asked, “How so?” He answered, “We can be together without any social pressure. I won’t ask you to give me children. I have a wife for that already. We can be happy for as long as we want.”
I shook my head, “I don’t want to be anyone’s dirty little secret. I want someone I can call mine. I love you but you already belong to someone else. No this can’t continue.”
He is the only man I ever allowed myself to be with, without fear. After him, I’ve gone back to living in a box. I don’t have the courage to love again.
Maybe one day I will adopt a child and give them all the love I am hiding from the world. I know that I will be a good mother just like my mother, I still have that motherly instinct…CONTINUE READING>>
