I always pictured
myself as one day being an old woman who had grown old gracefully and embraced
grey hair and wrinkles as part of being a crone.
Now, what I have to
share with you today is not really a big deal in terms of serious life
problems, but it has brought up for me another of those “Really, life? You’re
throwing this at me as well?” moments.
One of the loveliest
parts of growing old was that I thought I would have long grey hair which was
in a plait down my back, or in a bun on my head, or even free flowing over my
shoulders. I even have some of those grey hairs now – although being honest I
still hide them under a covering of henna from time to time.
During these past few
weeks I went to a dermatologist to have some dodgy looking moles taken off and
assessed in case of skin cancer. Fortunately there was nothing to be concerned
about. But, in the process of looking at my other moles for any suspicious ones
the dermatologist mentioned that my hair was quite thin at the crown of my
head. I knew it was thin, but it wasn’t until I came home that night and looked
at it with a mirror that I realised just how thin it had become.
The dermatologist did
a puncture biopsy of my head and a week later we had the results. I have alopecia, which is a genetic thinning of the hair over time, and
another thing which I can’t remember the name of where my hair follicles are
dying and I will lose my hair.
The dermatologist was keen for me to go on
medication – like three lots of it – to try and stop my hair loss, but I have
decided not to go down this path as I am already on five medications for
epilepsy, clinical depression, and high blood pressure. I don’t want to add to
that mix really and the side effects of the hair loss medication and the
monitoring of levels of different things like potassium are fairly full on.
Instead I’m going to use scarves and hats, a thing called a topper that would
go on the top of my head and blend in with my own hair to create the look of a
full head of hair. And eventually I guess I may use a wig.
So, what has this got to do with not having
children? Well, it is a reminder that I am getting older, albeit in a way I
hadn’t expected. It is true that some women have babies in their forties, but
the chances of this are very, very slight through both natural conception and
IVF. And for Kirby and me it is
particularly remote.
I have realized that somewhere in deep down
I believed I could still change my mind and we could try IVF one more time. We
were young. We were still in that “baby bearing” age group.
The reality has hit that this is not so. We
are being taken out of the realm where trying IVF one more time is a choice we
truly have. The choice is gradually being taken away from us.
Even though we know we won’t ever try IVF
again it is still hard to come to terms with. We have not got as much control
as we once did, although I guess we never did have that control. Does this
sound all mixed up?
I feel like I am entering another stage of
having to say “farewell” to our children. I could hold them here, my fingertips
could grip theirs and keep them here, but now letting them go completely is on
the horizon.
I don’t feel ready to get older. I don’t
feel ready to have grey and thinning hair. I don’t feel ready to accept that
the choice, that perhaps we never really had in the first place, is being taken
away from me, from us.
There is a scar in my heart from not having
our children, and this sudden certainty that I am moving beyond child bearing
years, is a splinter that has wedged its way into the tissue that lightly covers
the wound I have. And I feel like I am bleeding.
