The Terrifying Thoughts of a Woman With Fibromyalgia

Empty. Absolutely empty. I’m like a well during the worst summer drought. Yearning and begging for something that brings life and hope… and it will never come. I will always be in a devastating drought. A drought of certainty. A drought of peace. A drought of hope. A drought of all things that bring life… and subsequently love.

After an absolutely beautiful night with our neighbor while playing with her 2-year-old daughter, our puppies and the love of my life, I am left once again in a drought. Unsure if I will be able to be the type of mom I desire to be one day. Unsure if I will be able to run and laugh and play… just like my man and the adorable, yet sassy little girl did tonight. Unsure if I am currently a good mom to my puppy and two kitties. Unsure if I could handle being a mom when I can’t even pick up a 2-year-old without something hurting.

I have fibromyalgia and it has left me empty. I watched tonight as the love of my life, the man I want to make and have babies with, the man who accepts me with this leech we call fibromyalgia, assisted the 2-year-old by putting her shoes on and my heart shriveled up just a bit more. My heart and body begged to have a baby… to be a mom… to give life… and to give my man what he so desperately wants: a family…. to be a daddy… to chase a butt-naked baby into the bathtub… to get the best arm workout at the request of “up”… to get the best snuggles around… to teach them how to be silly and playful…. and it all came to a crashing halt. My heart aches because I’m not sure if I can give him (and myself) the family we always wanted.

I’m filled with self-doubt and medical issues. My hope is gone. My mind is filled with gut-wrenching questions. Will I be able to physically make a baby? Will it be a hellish pregnancy? Will I be able to carry a baby to term? Will the baby I’m supposed to protect and love be healthy? How will giving birth affect my already broken and fragile body? Will my body betray me yet again? If I am able to conceive and carry to term and give life to a beautiful healthy baby, then what will it be like when we go home? Will the father of this beautiful baby be forced to do everything because my body has forsaken me? Will he practically be a single parent? How can I ask him to do that for me? Do we hire someone to help us? Do we ask our parents? How will I be able to explain the sacrifice that their daddy made when they’re old enough to understand?

How does one deal with the drought? How does one deal with the questions, the uncertainty of this thing we call fibromyalgia?

Getty Image by Camrocker

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