Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Yet It Still Hurts To Say Good-Bye

Brandywine Falls, BC Canada
Photo by DanceLaughLuv

I thought I was okay, but I guess I’m not. Tomorrow I’m having gynecological surgery – an Endometrial Ablation – and today it hit me that I’m sad about it. I’m not worried or anxious about the actual procedure. My grief is more about the meaning of this surgery. I’m grieving the end of an era; the closing of a chapter in my life.

This afternoon, as I did laundry, I began to recall the numerous gynecological issues I’ve endured; the surgeries I’ve had; the familiarity of it all. I realized that my sadness is related to letting go of this wound I’ve had for so long. I’ve written before that our wounds become our friends; part of our identity. If we no longer have them, then who are we? I’ve always been the girl with the gynecological issues. So today, I wondered, who will I be now?

As I folded laundry, the surgeries of my past played out like a movie in my head while the tears spilled over onto the clothes in my hands. I recalled my emotions during each surgery…how they were always negative – full of anger, frustration, and self-pity. I always felt like “Why me?” and I suffered a lot emotionally before and after each one. 

This surgery has been different though. Two years ago, when the ob/gyn first suggested I have this procedure, I cried and told her I wasn’t ready. Because, in my eyes, this surgery is the big, fat, grand finale to my fertility struggles all those years ago. This procedure terminates any possibility of conception ever. Two years ago, I knew I would never attempt to conceive again. Today, I still know that to be true. But two years ago, I wasn’t ready to have that option taken away from me. Now I am. I made the decision to have this surgery now. I requested it because I knew it was time and I was finally ready to let go. 

Yet it still hurts to say good-bye.

It hurts to know that this is the end of the road for me. It hurts to look back on everything I went through, unsuccessfully trying to conceive a child. It hurts to remember the years of sadness and tears. It hurts to remember the gynecological issues I dealt with that were unrelated to my conception attempts. All of it hurts.

I know it’s confusing and it doesn’t even make sense to me – why be sad over not having to worry again about abnormal spotting, uterine polyps, and possible uterine cancer?  Why be sad over not having to go through anymore ultrasounds, hysterosonograms, hysteroscopies, D&C’s, and endometrial biopsies?  It doesn’t make sense to be sad about ending this chapter of my life.

Yet it still hurts to say good-bye.

As I tried to find a positive spin to end this post on, I was reminded of this:

When I was a little girl, I saw my mom go through a lot of health issues – in and out of hospitals, blood transfusions, weekly doctor visits, weekly lab work, and the list goes on. I have never wanted that for my children. I never want them to worry about me the way I worried about my mom. I never want them to fear losing me, the way I feared losing her.

So instead of being sad about saying good-bye to all of my gynecological woes and to my fertility, I realize that instead I must feel grateful. I must look at this as something to celebrate. I must see it as ending this vicious cycle of ob/gyn visits, ultrasounds, biopsies, and surgeries to ensure that my children won’t have to worry or be scared about something happening to me.

Additionally, DJ has always been a huge worrier and he has never handled my surgeries well. I think he worries more about me, than I do. So this “big, fat, grand finale” will also a blessing for him. He may be scared and worried now, but after tomorrow, we are done for good with having to deal with all this stuff ever again. And that should be something to celebrate.

Tonight, I look at my children and my heart overflows with love and joy for what God has given me. He didn’t answer my prayers all those years ago, when I begged him for a miracle of a pregnancy. But now I know it was because He had something even better in mind. My children were destined to be mine, regardless of blood and biology. Our souls sought each other out and found a way to be mother and child. I look at them and I know with my whole heart that they are the children I was meant to mother.

Yosemite - Photo by DanceLaughLuv


  1. Replies
    1. Thank you, Candace. Recovery was much easier than I expected.

  2. Hugs. Praying that all goes well.

    1. Thanks for the hugs and prayers, Lisa. Everything went great, thank God.

  3. I'm so glad that everything went well, sweetie, though I'm sure it must be hard. There is a silver lining in all things, it just takes awhile to find it and then accept it.

    With heart,

    1. Thanks so much Dani. I'm feeling really positive about it now. It was hard to make the decision but now I'm so glad I did. xo


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