Hysterectomies, Changes, and Mourning
Hysterectomies, Changes, and Mourning: This entire post may fall into the category of TMI. I like to write about what I am going through, it can be therapeutic, can’t it? Maybe I should start with the most recent facts. I have had a love/hate relationship with my uterus for about 5 years. I have repeatedly battled anemia, culminating in iron infusions last fall. It was like a cruel joke, the older I got, the worse it got each month. I always thought as I got older, they would just fade away? On top of that, I apparently also had fibroids and Adenomyosis. Neither of which is a good time and all of it could last another decade until I go through menopause. My gyn suggested a hysterectomy and so it was scheduled for last week. I kept my ovaries, thankfully, but everything else is outta there. I had a robot assisted total hysterectomy and have four smallish scars on my stomach to prove it.
Why is no one waiting on me?
Everyone says to take it easy, and I am trying. I had this vision that everyone would be waiting on me and helping me, but it seems a lot like any of the three times I came home with a baby. If I need or want help, I have to ask, which is not something I do easily. And when I do ask for help, I feel guilty. So I sit here, two days after my surgery having just swept the house and picking up after everyone. Such is life.
And then came the mourning
The other issue I am dealing with is this sense of loss that I had heard my come to visit. I am not sure it is actually about babies. I do love babies and think every time I see a Pampers commercial that I want/need another one. It’s simple for me to mentally recognize that as I knock on the door of 45, that time is over. My husband has had a vasectomy and I had an ablation, so it isn’t like it was even possible. But this removal, this emptiness is real. If getting your period was a beginning to your “womanhood” then is this the ending (in a way)?
Or maybe it’s about something more than becoming a woman or not, maybe it’s more about life and death. I was young once. Youthful and entering life without any idea of what it was actually about. Now I have passed all that youthful experience, I was a person before kids. Then I was a new mom. I was 20 and then 30…and then I was 40. I know there will be a point at which I look back and think how young I was still when I was 44. But I am not there yet. Where I am is a point at which I have a physical reminder, scars, that show me I cannot carry a baby ever again. That time has passed and I enter a new point of my life, as I get older. I am not elderly, by any sense of the word. But what I am is different than I was.
Change is confusing
It’s ok for things to change. It’s ok for me to change. Sometimes change is good. Sometimes change is necessary. There are times when change is both, good and necessary, but is also a little sad. That’s how I feel now, in addition to the physical pain I am feeling. I feel a bit confused over being sad. I feel fortunate to have had three great kids. Life is confusing like that. I appreciate what I have experienced, but that same life experience tells me I have no idea what’s really going on…any more than I did when I was 20. Life experience teaches you that you very rarely know anything for sure. I am not ignorant of how fortunate I have been to have the opportunity to carry and have three wonderful kids. I know I am. But I also feel a bit empty, too, right now.