Shared Journal Entry #10

Lakeridge Hospital - August 6, 2016

Almost nine months ago at the age of 33 I sat in front of a doctor and hear words I never thought I would hear. I am 33, single and childless and attempting to find my dreams. But when the doctor said “I’m sorry Onika you can’t get pregnant.” I hadn’t gotten my period in for six months and I went to see him to figure out why. When he explained that my eggs weren’t dropping into my uterus as It should every month I was unable to get pregnant. The floor felt like it had opened up and swallowed me whole. Finding my way, my path, my journey meant nothing to me if I couldn’t embark on God’s greatest journey, motherhood.

According to the doctor I had abnormal amount of prolactin in my system which was stopping my period from coming monthly. Basically, I was born with as many eggs as I was getting but if they don’t go through the menstruation process they are less viable for conception…so duds. He explained that one of the medications I take for my bipolar was likely the cause or the high prolactin. Once again my mental health trumped everything else. I cried in that office that day mourning the loss of a child I may never know and raging against the disease that caused it.

I wanted to be the best mother I could be because I had the best in my mother and grandmothers. I was planning to start my own business so I wouldn’t be beholden to someone I could set my own hours and spend time with my children. I wanted to build a legacy for them.

I wanted my baby to be the culmination of all my hard work, determination, sacrifice, pain struggle…from the concrete of my life I wanted to nurture and grow a rose. This little life has been as real to me as the air I breathe because I was always certain that my passion for motherhood and my confidence in myself would be enough. My child would take priority over everything else.

The doctor advised it could be stress from work so I quit my job. He said it could be the medication so I stopped taking them. I became desperate searching for the answers trying to figure out why? I became depressed along with being stressed and I eventually took pills to end my life.

I am currently in the hospital going through a medical regiment change and it is hard on the body and the mind. This is the first time in 10 years I have voluntarily checked myself in. I know I need help. I am so emotionally raw and I’m going through some deeply troubling things.

So when I used the washroom at 2:30am and saw blood on the toilet paper when I finished I cried. I cried at the thought of new possibility. I cried at the thought of renewed hope and I cried at the thought that God saw fit to give me a second chance at motherhood. I promise myself I won’t waste it.


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