Trauma and Momma’s…

OK. So. Good news, bad news time. Good news? My insides (so far) are normal. In 2 weeks, I’ll know if anything is off microscopically, but for now I’m running with this whole “normal” thing.

Bad news? I basically will never trust another doctor so long as I live. Maybe that’s an overstatement, but really, the experience I had was horrible. I don’t know if I’ll ever really understand what happened, but long story short… They couldn’t put me out (even after 3-4 times the normal anesthesia) and I screamed and cried the entire time. Finally 2/3rd’s of the way through the last part she had to stop because I was “scaring” the other patients. From now on I have to get general anesthesia because twilight sleep doesn’t even touch this anxiety. Think Old School, where Will Ferrell shoots himself in the neck with a dart… or The Hangover where Zack Galifinakis get’s tazed. I am literally like a rhino they couldn’t put down. That being said, I was so freaked out by the whole thing that until today I cried every time I thought about it. Slowly I’m getting over it, but it’s not without creepy flashbacks of people yelling at me and intense pain.
I really couldn’t tell you why this kind of shit always happens to me, but it does.  Maybe I manifest this bad mojo because I am such a worrier, a worst case scenario kind of girl. I’m just glad its over.

The next few months coming up here are going to be overwhelming. We have two Vegas trips, 1 San Fran trip and 4 classes with essays and finals that need to be done. Then in May we have our first IUI, which I think we’re both excited about. I say “think” because at this point in my life I feel like knowing anything is pointless. I think the idea of having kids is one we both love, but the whole treatment itself will be a big test of our relationship. I have heard from many people that fertility treatments are a strain on any relationship. I’m just hoping the fact that we’ve been together for 8 years and have a strong happy marriage will count for something.

Last night I asked Louie how many kids he wants. It went like this.
Me: How many kids do you want?
Lou: Two. A boy and a girl.
Me: What if I have two girls?
Lou: Then we’ll go for another one, to get a boy.
Me: What if I have another girl?
Lou: Then we’ll try for another one, to get a boy.
Me: What if I have another girl?
Lou: I think 4 girls is enough.
….silence…

I learned two things. Firstly, if I want 4 kids (which I do), my body must make only females for at least the first three. Secondly, he loves his parents and their desire to carry on the Russo name enough to suffer through raising at least 3 girls. I say suffer because… HOLY SHIT, three girls? There’s a good chance I’ll be dead before the last one goes through puberty, if they’re anything like me.

I recently read something that I wrote a long time ago, and it made me think. My mom had to go through so many things that I’ll never know, to become the mother that created two strong daughters. Raising daughters is fucking hard. I wouldn’t want to raise myself. She did it, and she kept loving me even when I told her to “fuck off” and hid under my covers.

 I was a crazy kid. I developed much earlier and from the beginning was obsessed with boys. I put myself in dangerous positions, did things I cringe at now, and wonder how I came out the other side without so much as a scratch on me. Sure I had close calls, but I still never got hurt badly. I was the last of my friends to lose my virginity, even though I was the first to notice whatever guy walked in the room. For some reason I had boundaries drawn and never crossed them until I was ready. I’m pretty sure every person who knew me at 13 thought I would grow up to be a stripper or pregnant at 14. I defied them all, and I think the only reason I didn’t end up being a stripper or knocked up before I graduated high school, was because of my mom. She was strong and proud and I admired her ability to be confident and happy and peaceful while still being humble and introspective and righteous. Our lives have been drastically different, but I still regard my integrity and strength as things that grew from her love and became my own.

When I think about having kids I worry that I’ve got a boat load of cosmic karma headed my way, but then I think about my mom. Whatever crazy girl comes barreling into this wold VIA my uterus, I will have the strength and knowledge to raise her. If my mom could do it, I can, because I am my mother. I am my grandmother. I am my sister. I can do anything with them by my side and in my soul.

  One thought on “Trauma and Momma’s…

  1. March 21, 2012 at 2:52 pm

    All I have to say is thank god I have boys.

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