I always knew I would be a mom. I never doubted it for a second. When I saw two lines on my first pregnancy test, I was so happy.
At eight weeks, I lost that baby. It broke my heart, but I trusted the people who were supposed to help me. I had a procedure to clear my uterus. One week later, I had a second one. I wasn't bleeding, I had no fever, and I don't think I needed it. In my country, I couldn't get the pill instead.
my body was trying. nothing came.
I was waiting for my body to heal, so we could try again in two or three months. But my period never came back. Every month, I felt the cramps, the mood, everything. Just no bleeding. It took a second doctor to believe me.
A hysteroscopy showed it: Asherman's syndrome. Scar tissue had started gluing the walls of my uterus together. My husband and I walked out to the car and cried.
ten months of hospitals
Then came the surgeries. After the first one, they put a balloon inside my uterus to keep it open. It was the worst pain of my life. The scar tissue came back, and in one month I had four more surgeries.
On surgery days, adrenaline kept me strong. I made jokes with the nurses. At night, at home, I fell apart. Other people went to work. I went to the hospital. Again.
After those surgeries, they said we could try again. Three weeks later, I was pregnant with twins. I was too scared to be happy. I lost them too, and afterwards my uterus closed almost completely. Three more surgeries followed. At the last one, I was awake, and I was bleeding on the table. That day, I told my husband: maybe this is not our way.