No Kid Kate

I got the final no-go day before yesterday. I am officially forbidden from having children.

An incredibly unsympathetic, horrible woman ran me through statistics as though she were reading the sports results. 28% chance of pre-eclampsia, 1/3 chance of miscarriage, 8% chance of losing up to 10% of your kidney function = chance of losing the whole kidney. My last biopsy showed a fairly beaten up kidney. If there's a problem, there's a 'technical removal of the child'. All these stats are because my 'creatinine' (ie. kidney function measurement) is at 170 or thereabouts. It needs to be below 150 to call the idea safe, apparently.

A mini part of me feels that it has come down to 170 from 200 over the last month and might, therefore, possibly drop again slowly if we all pretend that we're not paying attention and look in the other direction. I'd love to see that horrible lady next year with a creatinine of 130 and ask her burp my baby, or wipe its bum. Perhaps I should just vomit on her. That should do it.

The vast majority of me (99.9%) knows that the game is over.

This is sad. I am officially, most definitely sad about this. This is a rough punch to add to the beating. I'm bruised. I feel terribly terribly sad for my heroic supportive husband. I wonder what his life would have been like with another woman who could have his children and take on his incredible brains, charisma and squidgy loveliness.

Facebook is rough at times like these. Photos of others moving on to the next phase are tough viewing. Walking down the street can occasionally be a bit of a battle too if you're in mummy-ville. Pharmacies have baby rows, supermarkets have prams in every aisle. One couple I met a fortnight ago who got married a year ago and were expecting their second asked if my husband and I had just got engaged. Having been married five years already, it was obvious their assumption was due to us not yet having kids. Even looking at my belly in the bath and realising it wont ever be pregnant as every girl imagines it might be as they grow up is an odd thought.

One could get dramatic about it - I've lost my purpose/I'm not a woman etc. I could beat my chest and wail like a banjee but that's not my bag. But, as my generation start popping them out, discussing names, genetic similarities and school options, it does nonetheless feel odd to be starting to take the pill for the first time in three years. (Let's at least hope they give me some enormous Wabs).

I will be practical about this again in the days to come. I will fill these blog posts with research I've done about adoption and surrogacy and I will be positive about the 'wealth of options available to us in this century of modern science'  etc. blah blah blah. I may end up feeling lucky as I adopt a wonderful child and feel special at the individual relationship our modern day nuclear family builds together. A battle won is a satisfying thing. And if that can translate into love and union then I can be hopeful I'll feel I got the golden ticket rather than the short straw.

Yes this is personal. And yes I'm posting it on the web.  I need people who know me to know. Then we don't have to talk about it.