Tag Archives: crumbling cookies

Of Hysterectomies and Granny Panties

This is my surgery face! Ridiculous hats are required when checking into the hospital.

{note: I wrote this awhile ago – it’s just taken me some time to decide when I was ready to post it} 

“Your uterus is a mess.”

That was the first thing the surgeon said to me when she walked into the room where I was waiting patiently, trying not to cry. The second was, “This is going to be a very difficult conversation to have.” Great. Way to make me panic, doc.

Most people assume that as a woman who has made it to 40 without having kids means I’m anti-kid, but in reality it’s more like I was anti-having kids with anyone other than my current boyfriend. I love Jonathan so goddamn much that within a few weeks of falling for him, my brain was all, “Hey! I want to have this guy’s babies!” followed by a “WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. SAY??!!?”

But the thought has only grown more and more important since I realized that if we were going to do this thing, a decision had to be made soon—since my reproductive lady parts would basically be expiring in a few years. Exploratory talks with my family doctor about birthing babies seemed promising. She was optimistic that when the time came, everything should be good to go…uh, until she discovered something foreign in there, which resulted in many (very long, and very scary) tests, and then, unfortunately, a visit to a specialist.

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