By Kelly Morgan
“Are you certain you’ve reached the end of your journey?” my physician inquired. “You’re still quite young.”
As I sat there, my fingers anxiously rubbing together, I felt my hands tighten into fists before relaxing. This was a gynecological specialist I had traveled over two hours to consult, and within the first five minutes, he was more interested in my romantic life than my chronic back and pelvic pain, frequent periods, and a family history of reproductive cancers. Upon mentioning my current divorce, the conversation swiftly shifted to whether I would ever bear children again.
Yes, I was absolutely certain. My path to fertility was fraught with challenges, and my experience of pregnancy was anything but straightforward. At 31, my then-husband and I decided to try for a child. It had been over a decade since my first pregnancy, which had occurred effortlessly. After more than a year of attempts without success, I sought assistance from my gynecologist. Following numerous tests, ultrasounds, and a laparoscopic procedure, I was diagnosed with endometriosis—a condition where the uterine lining grows outside the uterus. This diagnosis not only explained my secondary infertility but also the excruciating pelvic pain that previous doctors had dismissed.
The pain felt like being bitten by a shark from within and was not confined to my menstrual cycle. Accompanied by fatigue and bloating, it often rendered me bedridden for days. I understood this was not normal, yet I had been led to believe otherwise by a series of physicians. It was part of a complex relationship with pain; resilient women, particularly strong Black women, are conditioned to endure without complaint.
At 25, I left a leading hospital in Chicago, my head and back aching with such intensity that I struggled to hold myself upright. I received no treatment, only instructions to take ibuprofen. It wasn’t until I ended up at another hospital that they discovered my spinal fluid was leaking and required urgent intervention. I could have faced a life-threatening situation, but years of being dismissed by doctors taught me that voicing my discomfort was futile.
After enduring two surgeries to excise my endometriosis, I finally found myself in front of a specialist again. The severe pain on my left side stemmed from my left ovary being adhered to my pelvic wall. My OB-GYN had previously opted to preserve it to enhance my chances of pregnancy, despite numerous studies showing that many women conceive successfully with only one ovary. This time, my priority was not fertility but rather relief from pain. I yearned for a life where I could sleep soundly, engage playfully with my four-year-old, and not dread the inevitable changes of my cycle.
“I’m certain,” I stated firmly. “Remove the fallopian tube, uterus, ovary, and any other damage you find.” The images from my ultrasound were displayed behind us, revealing a fallopian tube filled with an unfamiliar mass. The specialist had remarked just moments before that a normal fallopian tube shouldn’t be visible on ultrasound, yet there it was. He quickly discussed conservative treatments involving medication that came with a high risk of nightly sweats and hot flashes.
Driving home, I felt perplexed by how I had once again allowed a physician to provide a superficial solution to my suffering. This time, I refused to be gaslit. I called and left a message requesting a deeper investigation into my condition; nothing felt right. I articulated my pain as best I could through tears. A nurse returned my call to schedule a CT scan, which revealed concerning “thickening” in the lining of my uterine wall and additional fluid in my pelvic cavity. This led us to proceed with the surgery to remove my uterus, tubes, and ovary.
In the realm of medicine, women’s fertility often overshadows their reproductive pain. At least I took solace in knowing that my life was prioritized over the possibility of having more children. For further insights on fertility and home insemination, you might find our post on intracervical insemination helpful. If you’re interested in at-home options, Cryobaby’s artificial insemination kit is a trusted resource. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent information on pregnancy and assisted reproductive technologies.
In summary, the experience of navigating fertility treatments while dealing with chronic pain can be daunting. It’s essential to prioritize one’s health and well-being over societal expectations surrounding motherhood.