God Bless Planned Parenthood
I’m non-binary (xe/xyr/xem) and have nearly always had some body dysphoria because my body is read constantly as female (and, therefore, so am I). The ONE FLIPPING THING that has never caused me any dysphoria is my ability to have children. I long for the experience of creating life with my husband and feeling it grow inside me in painful and joyful ways. I cannot wait for my own little parasite.*
When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar Disorder. When I was twenty-six, I was diagnosed with Lupus (plus other secondary stuffs). Both of these are pretty major diseases to deal with. They take constant vigilance and a LOT of doctors. Both are potentially inheritable. Both have the potential, through medications I take or *fun* body processes, to affect the fetus even if it does not inherit the diseases.
Also, the familial medical histories at play here are not what one would call encouraging.
While neither of my diseases nor those present in a multiplicity of family members guarantee a child of my genes is going to have a rough go of it, there is enough going on that I would feel irresponsible without first going to a genetic counselor and getting more information. It’s VERY important to me to know as much as I can. If it turns out that I am just not a good genetic contributor, I’ll make a family anyway. Adoption, fostering, egg donation are all good options, some of which I plan to pursue regardless of the wisdom of having children of my own loins.
Until I get some counseling, I have ZERO intention of having children. The possibility that I might knowingly inflict a medical life like mine onto an innocent is both revolting and terrifying to me. Parental responsibility does not start at birth!
So, you can imagine how terrifying it was when I had a pregnancy scare. Thankfully, the matter resolved itself very quickly. But for a few terrible days, I was not in good shape. My husband did his best to understand and support me, but the real comfort was knowing that - if I were to be found pregnant - I had a place to go. Planned Parenthood could walk me through whatever I decided to do. Keep it, abort and try again (or not) after talking to a professional, give it up for adoption - I knew exactly where to go and that was such a relief, I cannot even tell you. (This is not a comment on my husband, by the way. He 100% admitted he had no idea exactly how to help or understand my emotional roller coaster. That, in and of itself, was a HUGE help - that he didn’t try to fix what he didn’t understand.)
Fast-forward several months and I’ve realized I can’t go through *SURPRISE-MIGHT BE PREGGERS* with no information again. It was AWFUL. So, I looked up genetic counselors in my area and . . . it’s all hospitals and visits there and CRAP MY INSURANCE IS GOING TO KILL ME. So, what did I do? I called Planned Parenthood. I asked if they had a genetic counselor on staff, they said no, but “wait, let us check our resources.” In less than a minute I had two phone numbers of FREE genetic counselors.
And get this: the one I called wasn’t the right fit for this circumstance, but was invested enough to recognize that one of the health issues I was concerned with was something within her purview. She not only referred me to the right person, but ALSO sketched out a quick plan on what we could do to get me more informed on this other health subject. This enabled me to call another concerned family member with said information and get them on the right track, too.
These last few months have been a harrowing physical and mental trial. The resources Planned Parenthood shares so freely (or at minimal cost) literally saved me from myself and from a lot of heartbreak. I’m on the path to getting lots more answers than I bargained for, so is a family member, and I have not felt this at peace for a long time. God bless Planned Parenthood. I would not be myself without it.
*’Parasite’ is my nickname for my future growing child(ren), for reasons related to triggers - not a comment on children in general. It is as lovingly meant as those who call the growing fetus “goober” or “peanut” or by the chosen name.