“I don’t need a uterus to have kids in my life,” I declared. “I’ve got 15 nieces and nephews; I’ve got a roommate that is young enough to be my son, I run a charity event for non-profit that deals with foster kids and adoption. If I decide I want a child, I think I can figure something out.”
It’s not the first time I’ve said it in the past few weeks, but this time I was saying it to my HR contact at work. I’m scheduled to have a hysterectomy at the end of the month, and am trying to work out how soon I can get back to work and off short-term disability. It’s not so much that I’m a workaholic, but I’m not really interested in dropping to 70% of my current salary.
“Don’t rush your recovery,” she cautioned. “Even if you physically recover, there is an emotional toll that overcomes you once your uterus and ovaries are removed. A lot of women don’t anticipate the grief of giving up motherhood as an option until it’s already gone.”
I understood what she was saying, but deciding whether or not to have kids was a decision I had to make back 7 years ago and I feel like I did my grieving then.
I had gone in for a routine check-up. The nurse practitioner was taking the normal vitals: height, weight, blood pressure. She took my blood pressure twice, actually, and then left the room – quickly returning with a crash cart and telling me to relax, which only made me more nervous. My blood pressure was 171/118. I looked at them confused – I felt the way I always felt. But evidently this wasn’t good.
As the nurse practitioner prescribed the much-needed medication to get it back in to the safety zone, she asked me if I wanted to have children. Because this med and pregnancy could not mix. I cried. Not that I wanted to get pregnant, but that the choice was being taken away from me. My life was in a place where nothing was certain – everything was in flux, and I just broke down for a bit there in the doctor’s office.
Yes, ma’am. I had already done my grieving. I was able to joke with the HR contact, convince her I was fine, and we got off the phone both laughing.
Later that night, a voice on the TV caught my attention. This psychologist was talking on a news show about having a mastectomy.
“My friends told me I would go through a mourning period, but I just brushed them off. My femininity was not defined by my breasts; I didn’t need them to feel empowered. I had counseled people in the past through their post-surgical depression; I knew what would happen and knew I would be fine.
And then I woke up, and my breast was gone, and I mourned.”
So now I wonder if maybe I’m wrong. I really don’t expect to be sad about it – I’ve kind of gotten a Spartan attitude about my body parts – get rid of it if it’s causing a fuss. On the other hand, not having my own children has allowed me to focus on so many other things I wouldn’t have time for: rescue dogs, charity events, The Geeks, etc.
But I don’t mean to dismiss it all so quickly. I can understand that feeling of phantom loss like when a soldier loses his leg, but still feels the pain or like the leg is still there. I just can’t focus on that. It’s counter-productive to where I’m heading.
Forward march.
Wherever your emotional rollercoaster happens to take you afterwards, we are all here for you! Love ya!
what Jada said. Understand that your feelings are real and valid, and your own, and that no matter if you had wanted kids, or needed kids, or had already done the grieving, whatever feelings you feel are real. When my wife had her hysterectomy, even though I had not wanted kids, I grieved because we were no longer being the ones making that decision.
I think you won’t know until it happens but also remember there are biological factors at work-medications, loss of hormone production, etc that can cause depression. Sort of like post partum after having a baby. Those hormone changes are tricky. If you start feeling emotional, please reach out to your friends and talk about it!
Of course your own individual experience is going to be just that – yours. I know that no matter how much I prepared myself for Iceobel and Leo’s death, the actual event tore me to shreds.
Just make sure that if you see signs that are troubling that you don’t ignore them. Face them, embrace them, and, if needed, get help.