On having a hysterectomy at 33.

How do you sit to compose your thoughts when your thoughts make no sense and are as quick to change as the thunderstorms we've had the past couple of days?  I had a hysterectomy at age 33, one week ago.  Here is some of how I feel.

There's the soul-crushing sense of loss that comes at night when everyone is asleep.  It makes me lose my breath, restricts my throat and tightens my chest.  Last night as I lay in bed listening to the outside sounds and Doug's even breathing beside me I thought this loss would swallow me up.  It doesn't help that I couldn't bear the thought of weaning my baby before the surgery so I had to deal with engorgement and that emotional loss too.  I cannot believe that I won't have another baby.  It's unfathomable.  A few days ago a friend suggested that perhaps I was sending myself a message that my children weren't enough and was that very fair, she wondered.  She couldn't have been farther from the actuality.  And so I explained it to her.  Being a mother to these babies has been the joy of my life.  It is because of their wonder and perfection that I can't picture not being able to do it again.  I am also keenly and humbly aware that some people never get to do it at all.  I know that I am blessed.  And my children, they are enough.  In a way I'm saying goodbye to their babyhood.  I will miss their baby smell.  I will miss breastfeeding them in the middle of the night when no one in the world existed but us.  I will miss all the sweet little firsts that babies bring.  I will miss rocking and holding and loving on them.   I read recently that gratitude is the antidote for basically any negative emotion.  So the only way I fell asleep last night was sifting through memories of my babies.  And there were plenty.  And they were beautiful.  And I was thankful.

There's the guilt.  Did I do enough?  Did I try hard enough?  Doug is the best dad; he deserved more children.  Am I being dramatic?  Was it really that bad?  I logically know the answers to these questions.  My heart is slow to process I guess. 

There's the physical pain.  I'm so over it.  The IVs and the Catheters and the immodesty.  The blood transfusions and iron injections.  The hair loss, the dark eye circles, the corpse skin.  The constant pain and humiliation of my "feminine issues"-constant.  The incisions and infections and engorgement.  The fatigue and exhaustion.  The emotional ups and downs.  The dental problems from iron deficiency.  The strange diets.  The surgeries.  The self-esteem problems.  Etc. etc. etc.   

There's the fact that I feel like I have no gender.  It's strange.  I didn't realize how much of my identity as a woman was wrapped up in one little organ.  It feels empty.  You can physically feel the loss.  It's strange.  I feel robbed of what I'm supposed to be.  I'm also worried about everything working properly. 

There's the excitement at being a mom to big kids.  I'm mourning babies with all my heart.  I gave my 20's to babies and the constant pursuit of how to get my babies here.  But what if what to come is just as amazing?  I'm seriously excited for the day that we can go camping without diapers, being able to go on a vacation with just my husband, vacationing with the family and being able to participate in all the activities together.  Life with big kids...fun?  I'm excited.

There's the Hope.   I'm thinking of a life without my health struggles.  There's the hope that my spirit can finally express itself in this body again.  There's the hope that I can rediscover who I was before and integrate part of that vibrant, vivacious girl into this new woman that I am.  A combination of that girl's spirit and this woman's wisdom could be amazing.  Maybe?  Maybe I can perform again.  Maybe I can be social and joyful again.   

Am I at peace? No, not really. But I knew what it felt like when I wasn't supposed to do it; when my baby boy wasn't here and I knew there was someone missing. It doesn't feel like that. It's more of a sad resignation. An acknowledgement that this is it; it's time. The first time a Dr. said "hysterectomy" to me was in 2005. I was 25 years old. I had one child. I was brave and determined and strong and brought two more children into this world at great personal physical expense.  It's time to let that go and to be who I am supposed to be now.  For myself and for my family.  I had a priesthood blessing that said that Heavenly Father's plan for me was to physically be the vibrant person that my spirit is.  I believe that!  I cannot fathom that it is God's will for me to suffer anymore.  I guess it's pretty amazing that in spite of the difficulty of my childbearing years, I am reluctant to let them go.  It speaks to how much I treasure my children. 

It's hard to close a book you love.  But the great news is that this book isn't a stand-alone.  It's part of a series.  And I hear that the subsequent books are just as great as the first.

You know the woman with the issue of blood in the bible?  I know her.  Well.  I actually can't wait to meet her in heaven, give her a hug and say "I feel you sister."  So the bible story goes that there was a woman...you know what, I'll let the bible tell it...

Mark 5:25-33 (Also Accounted in Luke and Matthew)
25 And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years,

26 And had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse,

27 When she had heard of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment

28 For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.

29 And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.

30 And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press, and said, Who touched my clothes?

31 And his disciples said unto him, Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?

32 And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing.

33 But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth.

34 And he said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

So here's a thought...what did she do then?  After she exercised her Faith.  After the issue of blood was gone.  She'd suffered for 12 long years with it.  I have to imagine it became a part of her in so many ways.  Women in that time were separated and looked at as "unclean" when they had problems.  So 12 years being in isolation, did she just bounce right back?  Was she suddenly back to her old self?  No, it was a part of her and I'll bet that it took her time to reemerge.  That part probably took a lot of faith too.

Here's hoping I can have the faith to reemerge.