anonymous-
Only six people know my secret: my parents, my sister, my two best friends, and husband, well seven if you count my doctor. I have never told anyone else what I am about to share and to be honest, I am a little apprehensive in sharing this.
Medically speaking, I am a rarity. In fact, my condition only occurs in one to three percent of all women. In previous centuries I would have been considered a healer with special powers or a woman to be pitied, a spintress destined never to marry, depending on the culture and norms of the time.
I have unexplained primary amenorrhea, meaning for a medically unknown reason, I have never had a monthly visit from Aunt Flow without the help of hormones. Before I continue, I want to explain the reason for the anonymity of this post. While I would like to publish my name along with my secret, I am afraid that my insurance company will deny me coverage later down the road when we do want to conceive. So for now, I write this anonymously, with the hope of someday fully revealing myself and putting my secret out in the open.
When I was younger, I shrugged it off as a result of my avid horseback riding (in high school I rode three to four times a week) and expected it would happen eventually. I have always been petite for my age and for a while, doctors assumed that it was my small size and low weight (100-105 pounds) that were holding things up. When my seventeenth birthday came and went without anything, my doctor began ordering tests and eventually, referred me to a endocrinologist. Over two years, I had my blood drawn multiple times to test my hormone levels (they were normal), had an ultrasound to insure I had the right equipment (I do), had a bone age scan to be sure my body didn't think it was younger than it was (I was 18 years old inside and out), a progesterone challenge to see how I would handle hormones (I handled them) and two MRIs to be sure I didn't have a tumor on my pituitary gland (I didn't). In the end, the specialist prescribed hormones in the form of birth control to see if that wouldn't trigger something. They did and since I turned 20, I have had visits from Flo every month like most women my age.
In high school, I tried my best to hide my condition and commiserate when girls would complain about cramps, PMS, and bloating when in reality I had no idea what they were talking about. I carried around tampons and pads just in case I needed them, but always ended up just handing them out to my friends instead. Now, thanks to the hormones, I know what they were talking about and that I wasn't missing out on anything fun. Yet, I felt and sometimes still do feel like less of a woman because things that come so naturally to everyone else come so differently to me.
I can't recall exactly when I told my husband about my condition but it was pretty early on in our relationship since I knew things were serious between us and I didn't want to keep a secret like that from him (especially because it severely affects our ability to have a family naturally but more about that in a minute). He has always been supportive and although we don't discuss it much, it is a relief to know I am not alone in this!
With my husband still in graduate school, children are still a few years off for us. I have been told by my current doctor that conceiving will require the use of Clomid or a similar drug to get pregnant. Truthfully, I don't even know what my chances of conceiving are since pregnancy and motherhood were the last things on my mind as a single college student during my last visit with the endocrinologist at the age of twenty. We've discussed all options: fertility drugs, IVF, surrogacy and adoption and have agreed to take it as it comes. The uncertainty of it all can get pretty difficult at times.
I try to be thankful for what I do have control over and for what blessings I do have. I am so very grateful for my husband and his support. He has never so much as batted an eye during this whole process and assures me that one way or another, we will have a family. I am grateful I live in a time and place that allows greater opportunities for different people like me--I have no doubt that if the circumstances were different I would be pitied, ostracized and marginalized for my condition. I am grateful that I am otherwise healthy. I am thankful for my beautiful family and friends. I am grateful for other women who have been brave enough to share their infertility struggles with the blogosphere, which is one of the reasons I am writing this post and airing this dirty laundry. I want to let others know they are not alone and that while they may be different, they are no more and no less a woman, a child of the universe just like any other. And that, for now, is enough.
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