My reproductive system had been causing me significant pain for months. It was time to deal with the cause and not just the symptoms. It was time for a hysterectomy.
We’d had a lot of ups and downs in our relationship together, my reproductive system and me.
Periods so painful as a teenager that I needed muscle relaxants and pain meds strong enough to leave me a walking zombie in school, yet not quite strong enough to stop the pain. Surging hormones that turned my body from a child’s into one that people looked at, and treated, differently. A body that caused a dissonance in who I thought I was supposed to be and how I actually looked.
An unintended pregnancy. And a miscarriage.
Then two incredible children. And postpartum depression. Years later, but sooner than expected, perimenopause.
Add in some internal explosions in the way of ovarian cysts, adenomyosis and endometriosis and it was time for this relationship to end.
Surgery can mean saying goodbye
How would you feel if a health issue caused you to need to have an organ removed: whether it’s your uterus, gallbladder, appendix or kidney? Or if you needed to have a joint replaced? Or if you needed back surgery?
You’d probably have lots of feelings, whether or not you admitted them to yourself. That’s OK. You’re allowed your feelings.
You have a relationship with your body, in part and in whole, and recognizing that and completing what’s painful and unresolved is an important part of going into surgery and coming out whole.
It’s OK to have mixed feelings
My reproductive system was the source of great delight and joy, and also of pain, despair and desperation. There were aspects I wished were different, that I wished had been better. But they weren’t, and I needed to make peace with them in my heart if I was going to feel OK after my hysterectomy.
Fortunately, I’ve got the tools of the Grief Recovery Method on my side. I was able to discover and let go of everything that was still unresolved and rolling around inside me before my surgery. I was able to go into it with a clear heart. I didn’t get rid of my uterus and ovaries, I released them.
Healing is physical, but also emotional
Does this really make a difference?
I think it does.
I have no guilt or regret about my surgery. (I’m also no longer in physical pain, or having other symptoms as I was before surgery, which is definitely good.) I don’t wish things could be different. I accept them as they are and feel peace around my decision.
This helps with my recovery. It allows me to be kinder to myself, to understand and better accept my limitations, and doesn’t add to the emotional burden of recovering from surgery.
Because there’s an aspect of having surgery that isn’t often acknowledged — the emotional toll of recovering from it. Not being able to initially do all the things you want to as you heal is emotionally taxing. Whether that’s not getting the mental health benefits of exercise or still feeling limited and not yet back to normal, recovery can be emotionally challenging.
Not having the additional weight of grief from what’s been lost is a relief.
I’m doing well now, healing with minimal complications, and cleared for exercise and other activity again. I’m grateful for modern medicine, and also for the wisdom and tools to go into the experience with emotional clarity and freedom.