Let No One Steal Your Destiny
I sat in the waiting room, smelling the antiseptic odors of a doctor's office, thumbing through a magazine. It didn't help distract me enough to keep the flutters out of my stomach. At twenty-three I had already lost one ovary when they removed two large cysts. When tests revealed a massive cyst engulfing the other ovary, I wanted to trade in my body; the doctors wanted to perform a hysterectomy. It was the '70s, a time when doctors expected immediate submission to their recommendations.
I recalled the look on my doctor's face when I told him I wanted a second opinion. I thought he was going to come across the desk and shake me.
"A second opinion won't change the facts. There's nothing you can do."
"This is my future. It will take away my chance to have a child. I have to make sure," I countered, tears welling up in my eyes.
When I heard the receptionist call my name, I shook the unpleasant memory out of my head and hurried to meet this doctor, hoping he would come up with a solution.
After he examined me and reviewed my file, we talked.
"I understand your doctor has recommended a hysterectomy and you don't want to have it. After reviewing everything, I see no other option."
How do you describe the deep knowing that you are going to have a child, that you must have a child? It was my destiny. "Can't you just remove the cyst and keep the ovary intact?"
"I wish we could, but the ovary would be destroyed."
"Then I can't have the hysterectomy. I'm going to have a child."
The doctor rolled his eyes. "I doubt that will happen and without the hysterectomy, you put yourself at risk. This one could burst. You need to have this done now."
"I can't," I said in a whisper.
The doctor crossed his arms. "I understand you're an adult, but perhaps you should talk this over with your parents or someone you trust."
Heat scorched my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I don’t want to have the hysterectomy."
Leaning forward, a rush of breath exploded from him. "Young lady, don't you understand the seriousness of this matter? You won't get pregnant. And if by some miracle you do, you'll most likely miscarry. That would be the merciful result. If you went to full term, the baby would probably be abnormal. And who knows what would happen if you tried to have the baby. With all the scarring inside your abdomen, you could split wide open."
"I see," I said, trembling all over.
"I don't think you do. You have a million-in-one chance of having a healthy child and surviving. It’s unthinkable to consider any other action."
I sat there motionless for a moment, my resolve crumbling. "Well, I guess I'll have to think about what you've said."
"Good. Call your doctor to schedule the operation."
I left the office, knees barely holding me up. When I got home, I sat in my easy chair staring at the wall, my mind numb. Then the tears came. I cried for the loss of my future children, for the horror of my dreams being shattered. When no more tears would come, I went to bed and slept fitfully.
The next day, the cobwebs cleared from my head. I realized I had been persuaded to accept the beliefs of the doctors. What was I thinking? I didn't care about the odds. I couldn't not have my baby. I decided against the hysterectomy that instant. I would take the risk. My future was set; like a feather following a breeze down the mountainside, I felt pulled along by the gravity of destiny.
I knew the moment I conceived. I could feel it happening, as if my essence moved over to make room for someone else in my space. In time, I knew my unborn baby was a boy. He communicated with me often and told me his name was Jon.
I did my best to think positive thoughts about the pregnancy. I refused to feed the fear; I took my attention away from the foreboding predictions of the doctors and instead focused on the miracle of my son. I never went back to have the cyst checked. And in fact, by the time Jon was born it had disappeared.
Adamant to have a natural birth, as the pregnancy advanced, I took a Bradley birthing class to prepare for the delivery. When the teacher told us to visualize the labor, I saw myself entering the hospital, being put in a delivery room, and then the nurse handing me my beautiful baby. I completely passed over the labor, panicking every time I thought about it.
Then I saw my cat deliver her kittens, and I knew I'd be okay. As I watched her deep relaxation during the contractions, she showed me how to give birth.
I checked into the hospital two days before Thanksgiving. Labor began late that evening. Remembering my cat, I resisted the urge to tense up and scream during contractions and instead made my body relax. Like a mantra, during each contraction, I said to myself, "I'm one step closer to having my baby."
It was a textbook childbirth. After an eight-hour labor (where my stomach did not rip apart), I delivered a seven-pound totally healthy boy without the aid of drugs or even an episiotomy.
Jon, my Thanksgiving miracle baby, was my reward for not giving into the beliefs of doctors, not giving into panic, not letting doubt or fear get in the way of my determination to fulfill the destiny I knew was mine.
We are often confronted by opposing ideas or opinions by people we put in a place of authority. We must remember that we create our reality, not others. Even with a million-in-one chance, we can create miracles if we can believe in ourselves!
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