A few times in life decisions come along that sort of shake up everything you think about the direction of your life. When your faced with these decisions two options arise, run away from it or face the decision. Swallow the urge to run instead tame the decision. Thinking about conquering the decision is the hardest part. The options turn your brain into a maze of clutter. Taking the time to sort out the clutter is the key to making a plan. My mind is a maze at the moment, clutter is flying around clouding my eyes causing tears to burn my cheeks. I’m 32 years old facing a decision that changes the course of my life. To move forward with a hysterectomy or to wait and take risks with my life later. After my last appointment with my doctor my heart sort of sank when the hysterectomy was mentioned as an option.
Woman are naturally attached to our uterus. It’s called the womb, glorified and praised for the ability to nurture growing children within our bodies. It’s an amazing unique part of being a woman. The uterus sort of defines our whole gender in a way. It’s a quintessential part of being a woman, we bond with the monthly flow we experience. The uterus also causes pain physically as well as emotionally. When we miscarry or have a still born baby we hate our uterus for its fail. When we are infertile we hate our uterus for not functioning the way it should. This love-hate tug of war we experience as woman endear us even more to our uterus. So when a disease or threat of a cancer aims itself directly at our uterus we get mad, emotions flow freely as we try and find the solution.
In my own personal situation, the very idea of a hysterectomy brings on a lot of fear. I do not have living children. I will never have a genetic link to my husband. This is devastating, I love my husband more than anything, his child would mean the world to me. I respect his decision that he doesn’t want to combined his genetic material with any other woman. So there is no hope to have his child. Does that mean if we decide to adopt, and my health allows it, that I would love that child less? The answer is so simple, no I would love that child like my own flesh and blood. Though these thoughts don’t make it easier to move forward to the surgery. Taking my uterus seems like taking my children, my grief appears again. The soul sucking extreme grief I felt after every single loss of our children has come back. Allowing myself to feel that grief is hard. However, I know I must go through this grief to come out on the other side.
My heart is heavy all the time now. My eyes glaze over when I see children. Protecting myself seems the only way to make it through this. I am terrified I will become bitter after the surgery, sinking into the pit of depression. No one wants that after such a life event. The fears sometimes seem to tighten around my neck. My body is weak already, what will happen after surgery? Will there be an infection? Can the doctors handle my care? Can I handle this? Can my husband handle his emotions as well as mine? There are no right answers to any of these, we just don’t know.
There is a thought that is tantalizing through all this. No more waiting each month to see if by a miracle I am pregnant again. Pregnancy can kill me but it doesn’t stop me from the longing. Twelve years is a long time dealing with this. The hidden hope is always there. After the hope comes the fear, I can’t carry its dangerous, all my children have died, why do I want this? The months when I was pregnant extreme joy followed by earth shattering devastation. I’m not destined to have living children. The thought that I don’t have to worry about that any more is sort of relieving in a way. Its peaceful to think it’s over. The finality of that offers a world of never having to wonder what if?
January is looming in the distance; the surgery will come. I am determined to be ready. Being strong is one of my traits. My adult life hasn’t been easy however I am fulfilled. Grief will come and go my whole life, but the love I give and receive from my husband will last a life time. He is enough for me. Reducing my chance for cancer and being healthier are a gift I want to give him. This surgery is for me too, giving me the chance to be pain free and to prevent health crisis later in life. Prayer and love will get me through this. My decision is made, I must move forward, ride the wave and succeed.

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