My Complicated Relationship With My Fertility

“What about when I get pregnant?’

My doctor looked like someone had just told him pigs not only could fly, but were now rainbow colored. I hadn’t considered he probably didn’t hear these words coming out of a 17-year-old’s mouth every day.

“How can I safely have kids? Will my medicine harm them? Will I be okay?” The barrage of questions poured out of me like a river that had been dammed up too long. We discussed these questions at length after I assured him repeatedly I had no plans of having children anytime soon. I didn’t feel any better.

Fear: I could harm my future kids. We’re talking birth defects, congenital disorders, all that fun stuff.

Question: Will I even have children?

I don’t ask this in the way that most people do, asking themselves if they want children. That’s a whole different conversation I continue to revisit.

I was born with epilepsy. It’s under control now, which is amazing. I feel very lucky. It took a very long time to get it under control, and a lot of stressful, horrible memories that, as my therapist says, are now passengers on the bus of my life.

For me, having children means putting my own life at risk. It also means putting the life of any potential children at risk. It could mean exorbitant medical costs, and all of that bundled together scares the ever-living hell out of me.

I don’t have this dream of what motherhood will look like for me. There are no visions of holding my too-clean to be real baby right after birth and rushing to the hospital because my water broke and waddling around complaining for nine months. I don’t see myself telling other mothers, oh, it’s the hardest job but the most worth it.

Can I not see what we’re told motherhood should look like in my future because I don’t want children? Or, can I not see these visions of motherhood because the first thing that comes to mind when I think about having children is that I will need to draw up a will, and prepare to die, and decide if my life is more important than the life of my unborn child?

Which one of you should we save if things go south, the doctors will ask. Isn’t that supposed to happen on Grey’s Anatomy only? I haven’t even decided if I want children and I’m already bracing for the worst.

The thing about pregnancy is you have two lives to consider. If I tried to go off of my medication, I could start having seizures again, endangering my life and the life of my child. If I stay on my medication(there is no “if”, really) I have no idea what the effects will be on the fetus.

The fetus receiving the same blood supply as me, that is laced with benzodiazepines that keep me from seizing and cutting off my own oxygen supply and therefore the oxygen supply to a potential fetus. There is no simple answer here.

Everyone says the same thing. Isn’t there some kind of research on this?

Yes, there is a pregnant mothers with epilepsy registry. No mother that has healthily carried a baby to term has done so on the medications I’m on.

This is how the complicated relationship with my own fertility began, and has continued. I am the first woman in the history of my entire family with epilepsy. What if I give my children epilepsy? Don’t even get me started on that one.

Everyone tells me not to think about it. You don’t have to decide if you want children now, they say. Adoption, surrogacy, healthcare is better now. I know how hard it would be. I know. I know how great the risks are, and I know I would be putting my future child at risk. No matter how many times I’m told not to think about it, I still do.

I know I’m a ticking time bomb. Geriatric pregnancies are more common now, and that’s usually fine. We do have more advanced healthcare so that women can continue to have children at ages that would not have been feasible before.

When you also live with epilepsy, it’s so much healthier to have children when you’re younger. It decreases the chance of unwanted complications and passing on epilepsy to any children.

It is a lot to think about. It’s why I try not to think about motherhood.

It’s what I resent epilepsy the most for. If I decide I want to be a mother, it will not be simple for me. It will be terrifying. While my epilepsy situation in general has resolved well, the fertility + maternity question still lingers like a black cloud.

I’d like to give one final thanks to our patriarchal society for pushing the construct of motherhood on me so forcefully I don’t even know if I want it or not.