Ode to My Uterus
Hey old girl,
I don’t know why I feel like calling you that. Maybe because in my mind you’re older, a more mature Whoopi Goldberg version of me that somehow holds the world’s wisdom.
We’ve been through a lot together.
We’ve been poked at and prodded, ballooned, and bruised. And all manner of things we did not think should be shoved up inside us have somehow found their way up our hoohah.
Tomorrow we’ll have been through three surgeries in three years.
We made life and somehow we destroyed it. And two ectopics, and a diagnosis of probable endometriosis later, I’m ready for the craziness to stop.
We need to get on the same team now sister.
I admit, there’ve been moments when I hated you.
Moments when I wished you were more on top of your game, doing your job like all the regular uterus’ (uterai?) out there. I wished you were perfect and unblemished and you were ordering all my little cells around in marching unison like a boss.
I wished you would get on board with my plan of making a baby and keeping it.
I wished my tubes were not spoiled and you could be like the pristine uterus of a 16 year old girl who can pregnant even while eating McDonald’s food.
But you’re not. And I think I’m finally accepting that.
I blamed you, and I’m sorry. I was mean and I called you names and I didn’t like your scars, but now I think the scars are kinda beautiful because well, they’re us.
Our scars tell our story and that story is important to me.
And after four years, and losses, and countless blood tests, and cookoo hormones, I’m finally starting to get some answers because I finally found a doctor who says that these losses aren’t normal and there’s a reason, and he uses fancy words like reproductive immunology, and he thinks he can fix me and he’s the first doctor who didn’t chalk it up to bad luck. And he lives in New York City. So he must be right.
But really, I have to thank you, because I followed you here to this hotel room in nowhere New Jersey, I followed your intuition and it led me here and tomorrow we might finally start getting some answers instead of more questions.
So, I’m going to stay positive old girl.
And I say that in my most Gregory Peck voice because I feel like he would say it in the most convincing way.
Tomorrow all that crappy endometriosis is going to get cleared out and you’re going to be shiny and new again for a little while and I’m trusting you, I’m trusting you to make these dreams of mine come true.
Because I know together we can. (Even though I promise to love you either way.)
I promise.
(Oh and I also promise you some pretty sweet painkillers. So chop, chop. Get on that baby making train.)
p.s. Rosie is totally photobombing you in that photo. Sorry, don’t have too many pics of my uterus and it’s the only one I have while pregnant.
