I'm Coming for Ya, Menopause
grieving what wasn't, protecting myself, finding relief, and accepting the invitation into the We Do Not Care Club - at 39.
Usually people maybe don’t talk so openly about their reproductive organs? But, as I am about to find myself immediately, and very not gradually, initiated into the “We Do Not Care Club”, I thought I would try on this “not caring” bit for size by exposing a few of my struggles with my organs (which happen to be pros at growing everything EXCEPT babies), and just tell it like it is. It includes some thoughts on that one “touchy subject”, because, you know… women’s healthcare...
This coming Tuesday, I will have the entirety of my reproductive organs surgically removed from my body. Words like “excited” and “terrified” are understatements of how I feel on approach of this momentous occasion. But this essay isn’t exactly about those feelings. This essay is about the journey that brought me to this decision and exactly what I think of it, in hindsight.
If you need to skip the essay for any reason, I understand! (tw: pregnancy, infertility, surgical procedures, and the like) Please do scroll down to see the postscripts, though. There are some action items and fun bits there.
I struggled for several years to conceive my one and only baby. And I tried for years after to bring another one into our family. Sometimes I see a little boy in my dreams. I think he is mine somehow, but I can’t be sure. I never had another confirmed pregnancy after my Only came into this world.
I have grieved the reality of having only one many times, and it still creeps up on me from time to time, even all these years later. But I have also continually celebrated the miracle that my Only is from the moment I found out I was pregnant (she was, is, and will forever be our perfect Jubilee), and so I am thankful that I was not so preoccupied with trying for another that I missed the one who was in front of me. I was very aware, somehow, that she may be it and I wanted to soak it all up. And I did.
I admit, though, that it was tricky in those toddler and early elementary years knowing how to respond when people asked me if we were going to have any more. I tended to either overshare or under share, and each scenario left me feeling misunderstood in some way. There was always something else to try, or some advice about why I should have all my babies when they are little. Then there were the people who would say to my kid (in front of me), “tell your mama you want a baby brother or baby sister!” The audacity of some people… I swear. Sometimes I would even lie and say, “One is enough for me!”…
But while being infertile has been horribly sad, what has been worse (and a big reason why I don’t have another) is that every few years since I was 21, I have had to have some kind of surgery on, in, or around my uterus. The last surgery ended in a diagnosis of extensive endometriosis (“the worst case” my doctor had ever seen), a failed D&C, and a referral to a specialist. I will be honest - my bladder is at stake with a hysterectomy, according to the doctor who performed the confirming laparoscopic surgery.
I needed a laparoscopy much sooner than October of last year in order to have a better understanding of what I was dealing with. It took so long to have one because every doctor I saw only gave me a few options: go on birth control, just take ibuprofen… or get pregnant. Since pregnancy seemed to be a win-win, this round and round cycle kept me waiting in hope for so long. It also kept me battling with excruciating pain and almost endless fatigue for years.
So after a scary first meeting with the specialist who warned me about all the horrible ways endometriosis can complicate a hysterectomy, plus several months on a drug to put me in medical menopause in the hopes it would stop the endo from growing, relieve my symptoms, and allow me to keep the organs my body needs to produce estrogen in order to keep my bones and heart healthy… except it ultimately didn’t help and I still am actively dealing with two angry ovaries and a uterus that feels like an ugly cement block because surprise! she is growing another fibroid as I type…,
<deep breath>
I have decided to move forward with a total hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (they are taking everything).
Last summer, my OBGYN asked me if I was “done having children.”
My heart said “no.”
My brain said “yes, absolutely.”
I have had too many surgeries, and I am too keenly aware of the implications from the overturning of Roe v. Wade, to not understand the weight of what I would be up against should I happen find myself pregnant again in a post Roe v. Wade society.
In that conversation, I said, “We want another baby. We have grieved not having another. But I do not want to risk getting pregnant again, having a life-threatening issue, and potentially finding myself in a position where…”
She finished my sentence for me, “where you would not be able to get the life-saving care you’d need.”
I nodded, making eye-contact with her that told me that she understood 1000%.
“Exactly,” I went on, “the family that I have now needs me here.”
She nodded in heartfelt understanding.
It is one thing to know something in your heart. It is another to speak the truth out loud. It is something else entirely to know that the decisions you make for yourself are, in part, damage control decisions because your rights have been taken from you. Mind you, it was a right I never imaged ever needing to utilize for myself, but life has taught me enough to know that it is the things you cannot imagine happening to you that have a way of happening to you…
It was my right nonetheless to have access to a certain kind of healthcare. It is every woman’s right to have equal access to life-saving healthcare, whether they ever need to use it or not.
It was in that conversation that I gripped reality. I had to shift from the years of thinking “well, maybe one day” to “we’re done”.
My Only was decidedly, absolutely, actually… it.
Upon seeing images of my uterus after the laparoscopy, I could tell that my womb is completely inhospitable for growing a baby. Even if I did want to try one more time, it would absolutely be too dangerous. I knew it was time to thank my uterus for her service, and to say goodbye.
Fast forward to today - just a few days before my surgery, and I am certain that a hysterectomy is the right thing to do. And I am feeling the weight of having fought for years to be believed that my pain was bigger than just the growths they could see via ultrasound at the time. I am also holding a sort of vigil for what was wanted, and the years spent trying to get it (hence this essay).
I am also noticing my immense relief and gratitude for finally having the right mix of doctors and circumstances, and finally seeing a realistic solution clearly in view. It comes with a price: surgical menopause. Not gradual, instant. But in light of the year’s long fight to be believed along with knowing that my rights have been stripped back since I had my baby… I find myself empowered to face menopause by choice.
It is a big I TOLD YOU SO to all those who disregarded my body’s needs and symptoms along the way, and to those who missed the crucial signs that would have helped so incredibly much in my path to treatment.
It is a big EFF YOU FOREVER to all the fibroids and the polyps and the cysts that have plagued my reproductive system, and to the years of trying to pretend I am fine when in reality, I am struggling to stand up straight.
It is giving the balled up, naked me, lying on the bathroom floor in excruciating pain because I maybe actually did have a miscarriage but it was too early for a positive test, a big hug and saying, “YOUR ONLY IS ENOUGH. YOU DON’T HAVE TO TORTURE YOUR HEART OR YOUR BODY ANY LONGER.”
Choosing to face menopause early is freeing my uterus from her bodily duty and hopefully taking some control back over my health, though I do understand that endometriosis is a beast of a different kind (not to mention the other chronic issues I face), so I will cross those bridges as needed. But it especially feels like the right time to acknowledge that since I am still in my childbearing years, I am taking away the ability for any person to have direct or indirect control over my reproductive organs, in any way, shape, or form from this day, forward. That may seem childish, petty, or irrelevant to some. But it is a relief nonetheless, and one I wish I didn’t have to feel.
So that’s what I think about that. I look forward with so much gratitude and curiosity to what comes next.
<3,
Steph/Anie
P.S. Please keep me in your thoughts on Tuesday, May 5 as I undergo a complete hysterectomy! Please send especially good vibes to my bladder…
P.S.S. Are you in the We Do Not Care Club, too? IYKYK. I am accepting any and all tips in the comment section!
P.S.S.S. I have the incredible honor of being on K.J. Ramsey’s latest book launch team, which means I get to read her brand new book The Place Between Our Pains before it releases in a few weeks. I cannot tell you how striking it is to me that this book is coming into my life now. Though my journey has been wildly different and doesn’t include a near death experience, dying bones, or a face tumor, it does include a bunch of other things I wouldn’t wish on anyone (see entire essay above), and learning to hunt for, and ultimately embrace, Joy despite everything (often while having Grief over for dinner) has been such a big aspect of my life over the last 8 years. So connection with people who understand what that means, feels, and looks like on a daily basis has become a sort of sanctuary for my soul. You all may remember how impactful her book The Lord is My Courage was for me. I am so looking forward to reading her memoir, even as I find myself deconstructed, yet also held by some kind of inexplicable Comforting Peace and Assurance. Go pre-order her memoir and then let’s talk about it after we’ve read it!
P.S.S.S.S. As Going On A Bear Hunt Family has moved back into a permanent home (aka “Blueberry Cottage”), I am using this time to refocus on my needle felts now that I have more physical and mental space to do so regularly (along with writing and other creative endeavors). I even participated in a craft show last weekend - my first one in years! So I revived and renamed an old Instagram account to have all my creative stuff in one place. Please follow me at @aniebear_cottagecrafts.
Always enjoy reading what you share, but always makes me wish we still lived close to get together to chat in person. I love that you are back into art fairs and making, you have always be so gifted in creating such beauty with whatever you touch. I don't care club member here as well. Thinking of you as you go Tuesday and the recovery afterwords. May this provide relief to your body
You possess a rare form of courage. You will emerge from this ordeal more whole than most people know exists. It is an honor and a privilege to know someone like you.