I'm Not Too Fat to Have a Baby
Before I met my husband, I was resigned to the fact that I would never have a family of my own. We had a small elopement and as soon as we got married we decided to start a family. Instantly, a wave of insecurities and fear hit me. Thoughts began to grip me: “What if I'm too large to get pregnant?” “What if my body can't handle carrying a child?” “What if I can't find a doctor that listens to me with sincerity, compassion and doesn't just tell me to lose weight?” “What if I won’t be a good mom because I'm fat?” Even with all of those thoughts and feelings, we still tried to start a family.
I knew one of the first steps in the journey was finding an OBGYN. Finding doctors I could trust with my body has always been a challenge and this was no different. I searched for weeks and made an appointment and sat down with a woman who spent about half of our appointment telling me how I should think about working out more and how I should walk 10,000 steps a day. Essentially, this woman embodied the medical experience I was anticipating: a focus on my weight, and not on me."
A few months after our elopement, we had a separate wedding reception to include more family and friends. Two weeks before our reception I woke up bleeding heavily. I experienced blinding back and abdominal pain. It wasn’t until later in the day that it hit me “Could I be having a miscarriage?” I laid in bed that night crying and then proceeded to disconnect from my body and feelings; the pain was too great physically and emotionally. I didn’t have a doctor to call that I trusted, so I didn’t call a single medical professional. I already felt alone and betrayed by my own body; I didn’t want to face another doctor who would probably blame this miscarriage on my weight; blame it on me.
It took 4 more months and many loved ones giving me a stern talking-to for me to try to find a doctor again. I walked into my next OBGYN appointment after doing tons of research on doctors specializing in my specific issues as well as body positive care. When I asked for a blind weight (weight without knowing the number) the nurse was accommodating and stated “Of course, you would be surprised how many people request that.” My doctor asked me extensive questions regarding fertility but did not make any comments about my weight. My doctor proceeded to write out a fertility plan with blood tests and medication.
I sat in my car after the appointment and cried with relief. I felt heard, valued, and, most of all, seen for the first time in my life. This was the non-judgmental, compassionate care that I had been hoping and praying for.
Two weeks later I got a call saying that they had found some atypical cells in my cervix. I later had to have a procedure to remove a precancerous lesion. If I had continued to push off finding a provider, what could it have turned into? The first provider could not look past my weight and therefore missed a dangerous aspect of my reproductive health – one that could have potentially killed me,
I was 29 years old before I found an OBGYN that respected the fact that I was large-bodied and didn’t try to change me. Hopefully more medical professionals do the same with the other countless large-bodied people, giving encouragement to those who just want to start a family and bring more beautiful life into this world.
Katie lives in San Diego California. She is recently married to her husband Forrest Hicks. Katie is working toward her social work license and works doing therapy with students at charter schools as well as doing medical social work. Katie specializes in working with kids with depression and trauma. Katie enjoys cooking, long walks and reading.
