Even though I apparently do not have a mini-me growing inside of me, my body is still insisting with all of its might that it is in fact pregnant, even if my abdomen isn't expanding with the growth of a new life. From the seeming cessation of the monthly pains I was suffering through, to the appearance of linea nigra on my abdomen, to the changing of my eating habits and of course the swelling of my breasts, it's almost a textbook example of what a pregnancy is like.
In some ways it's kind of interesting that I get to experience what it's like to be pregnant this way, since I'll never be able to experience it another way, having been born completely sterile. It feels as though both my body and mind are maturing in their own way. Suddenly being confronted with the exceedingly remote but not impossible event at the very beginning of these symptoms that I might in fact have to care for a child of my own was very revealing, as was having to consider the possibility of having a tumour and even cancer.
I still have to consider the latter possibility until the right examinations have been performed to rule this out, likely in the form of laproscopy during a broader (reconstructive) surgery. For now it seems like I'm having a bit of a break, though. I even get to enjoy some of the less serious aspects of my current situation and 'pregnancy'. Such as the discovery that the reason why my bras weren't fitting so well any more was because I had completely grown out of them. Switching to bras one cup size larger relieved virtually all of the issues I had. It's a shame that it's not as obvious as with, say, a shirt when a bra gets too small
It does mean of course that I will have to invest in new bras the coming time and possibly having to scuttle the bras which are now too small. I never thought that moment would come, but at long last I'm 'upgrading' :)
To me dealing with these symptoms is on one hand very easy, as it's to me the kind of confirmation I have been waiting for for many years. Something which would show the world that I am not crazy, that I am a hermaphrodite and that physicians should finally stop being jerks and start practising their profession in their treatment of my case. I could almost cry with sheer relief that I have been absolved of so many uncertainties and frustrations thanks to my own body. My body knows it's female. My body knows it's that of a hermaphrodite.
Yet on the other hand there is of course the lingering realisation that whatever underlies these symptoms may not be benign at all. During the past years of research I have come across a lot of frightening possibilities in intersex cases akin to mine, from cancerous tumours, to sepsis, to other unpleasant diseases, many of which potentially lethal. So long as the possibility remains of a test leading to the conclusion that I do in fact have a medical condition at this point which is harmful, I cannot rest easily.
For that I require that physician, surgeon or anyone else with the right know-how, skills and/or contacts to resolve. Unfortunately my form of intersex appears to be as rare as freshly fallen snow in July, with interest from physicians in a rare medical condition being equally scarce.
All I can do at this point is to try to live in the present and ignore the very existence of a future, for fear that I may not have one.