The Kid I Cannot Have

I recently decided that I do not want to have kids. I resent that I had to make that choice.

You may be wondering, “If she resents it, why did she make that choice?”

My 35th birthday is in a couple of weeks. The statistics about pregnancy after that age are readily available and definitely not positive.

But that’s not why I don’t want to do it.

Mr. Lyndsy has pretty great genes. He’s 35 and in good health. He broke a vertebra in his back and an old ankle injury gets him sometimes, but he spends his days in activities with kids who are twelve years old and does pretty well. He still plays sports. His father is in his 60s and still VERY active. He’s smart. He’s funny.

I’m smart. I’m funny. But that’s where the good stuff ends.

I was born with a bad back, or so said the neurosurgeon who fused my spine. Even now I still have back issues, just located in a different place. I have chronic pain in my foot from the nerve damage and tendon transfer.

I have Hashimoto’s which causes my body to ebb and flow through periods of almost manic energy and then into a state of fatigue. I’m lucky to have an endocrinologist now who was willing to treat it with medication, but it took going through three doctors before him.

Even with the Hashimoto’s treated, I have to contend with fibromyalgia. Random flares of body pain and bouts of fatigue so oppressive I don’t want to get out of bed. When you do finally get out of bed to do something, brain fog kicks in and you can’t remember why you up in the first place.

Of course, that’s not the only reason I don’t want to get out of bed some days. Depression and anxiety also like to jump into the fray, further knocking me down. The commercials that say depression has a physical component aren’t kidding. The body aches and fatigue are on top of feeling like your soul has done a round with Mike Tyson.

Diabetes can be a result of lifestyle choices. But sometimes, when your body is under attack from a bunch of other shit, diabetes gets you anyway.

For shits and giggles my kidneys leak protein. They aren’t supposed to. We do not yet know why it happens.

Perhaps my favorite is that I seem to be allergic to the sun. Prolonged sun exposure (as little as 30 minutes) results in a butterfly rash across my face and bumps down my arms and into my hands.

I have walked on the edge of the ultimate blackness. Been in that place where dying seemed like a much better idea than living. I managed to walk away from the desire, but my kid may not be so lucky. And it hurts because I know that all of my love wouldn’t be able to save him or her from that edge.

I don’t want that for my kid.

I had 15 doctor appointments in one month. I had blood draws for probably 40 lab tests. I spent a lot of time going to and from the hospital for those appointments. I have spent 9 nights in the hospital. The place where you’re supposed to get healthy, but health is impossible when you can’t sleep because someone is coming in every hour or so to make sure you’re okay.

I don’t want that for my kid.

There’s a long ass list of foods I don’t eat anymore because they upset my stomach. I can’t eat some of my favorite treats, unless I’m willing to risk an explosion of diarrhea at the worst possible time.

I don’t want that for my kid.

Standing, walking, and sitting cause pain. Running is out of the question. Sports don’t happen. Theme parks require sunscreen and a hat, and even then my face feels like it’s on fire and my arms look like something out of a sci-fi movie.

I don’t want that for my kid.

So I won’t have one.

I feel like I’m making the choice any good parent would make.

That doesn’t mean I like it.

I resent the hell out of it.

But it’s the choice I have to make. For my kid.



I am thrilled to be home. But I am already seeing how difficult this is really going to be. I sort of can’t do anything for myself. I can get to the bathroom, but getting on and off the can is tricky.

I cannot cook anything for myself. I can’t bring the dish back to the kitchen after I’m done with it. I already had a little slip with the crutches. Tile + Dust = Slick floor. Slick floor + Crutches = Whoops. It probably doesn’t help that I am exhausted and still a little woozy from the morphine and anesthesia. I’m not doing so great with being upright.

At one point I really did think that I would be able to stay home by myself while Mr. Lyndsy travels for his course. Ehrmagerd I was so wrong about that.

I’ve been cranky and snapping at Mr. Lyndsy all day. I know I’m doing it and I tried to stop, but it just kept happening. I was tired of being in the hospital. Tired of having people bother me. The nurse this morning made me nuts. Very nice but kind of useless. The woman in the space next to me was elderly and I think pretty ill. But someone was visiting her had prayer on from the time I got there until I left. Then she would randomly make sounds and it startled me. I needed to be home.

And now I am. In my own bed. Waiting for the pain meds to kick in. Debating taking more. Desperate for a nap. My leg is still numb which feels super weird. Hopefully it goes back to normal soon. Unless that means extra pain coming my way. Then it can just stay numb.

Y’all have been great about sending positive thoughts and energy my way. Please send some to Mr. Lyndsy and give him the patience to put up with my crankiness until I can get it under control.


Here we go, again


We went back to the doctor this morning to get a new surgery date. I apparently wasn’t paying much attention the last time we went to the doctor because the next surgery date is Thursday, June 11th, not the 16th like I’d been thinking.

That meant that we went with admission paperwork to the hospital today for admission today or tomorrow. I didn’t get a call from them today, and I wasn’t able to speak with the bed coordinator, but the person who is apparently in the know about who’s getting admitted said he didn’t have paperwork for me. I will call the bed coordinator back tomorrow morning to check however.

So we’ll see. I have low expectations (and by low, I mean none) about getting in for surgery on Thursday. Obviously I would love it if I could, but I’m being realistic.

Last night Mr. Lyndsy and I were talking about it and he said that it all seemed to be going too smoothly. I begged to differ, given that we’ve been working on this since February, but I could see his point.

Anyway, we’ll see what happens!

Well, fuck


Called the hospital back today – no bed. Went by since I have no idea how this will work now – whether I was supposed to try to go in tomorrow anyway.

Unfortunately the people at the hospital weren’t actually helpful at all. One of the people we spoke to said that all elective surgeries had been canceled, but I have no idea if he meant for tomorrow or today. I know that the doctor had patients scheduled with beds reserved for tomorrow, so I don’t know if they meant those were canceled.

We’re going to go back tomorrow in the early morning to talk to someone. Who knows what the fuck will happen. I should have known I wasn’t going to get this lucky. Nothing about anything to do with this fucking foot drop has been even remotely easy. I’m still mad at myself for listening to the neurosurgeon when he told me to hold off last year. I would be just about recovered by now if I hadn’t bothered listening to him.

Getting Closer, Hopefully


I went to the hospital this morning to be admitted for the surgery on Saturday. I was told that beds are allotted on a first-come, first-served basis, so we went early.

Turns out there was no need for that. You go in, submit your paperwork, and then around 2pm the bed coordinator works with a doctor to figure out which patients will be admitted. I call after 5pm and they tell me whether I get a bed. If I don’t get one today, my paperwork gets resubmitted for the same process tomorrow. I would appreciate any positive energy you can send to the bed coordinator today so that I can get a spot and get this done!

My procedure is sort of an elective procedure (I don’t see it that way, but I’m sure doctors do since the *gold standard* for foot drop is an AFO), so I’m not sure where I’ll fall in the priority list. I guess we all need to be hoping that everyone in Qatar stays REALLY well today and tomorrow!