Throughout reproductive life, my periods were mostly regular and normal, if crampy. At least menstrual products had improved. No more belts! In my early twenties I went on birth control pills, as much for the cramp relief as for protection. They worked well, but too much information came out about possible long-term effects, so I used a diaphragm after that. What an awkward and messy little device that was. But it worked. Fortunately, the only times I got pregnant were when I wanted to be.
When I got older I had fibroids (and heavier periods), but they were not bad enough to remove. I got my first hot flash at 44. I was at work, and it took me a while to figure out what was happening. I was 51 when I had my last period. I felt a sense of poignancy about it. All those years of fertility were over, and a new phase of life was beginning. If we lived in a supportive culture for women, I might have appreciated those times of the month more. I imagine being surrounded by other women, curled up on couches, resting, talking, and having our time apart. Not so for modern women who are expected to soldier on as though nothing was happening in our bodies.
But menopause mostly brought relief. I have now had 24 years of it, free of the discomfort and the hassles. My hot flashes, however, never abated. Some women are fortunate to never get them. Those that do usually get over them when menopause is complete. Me? Usually two or three a night, occasionally more, occasionally less. Rarely none. And almost always during the night, not during the day. Years ago, I tried bioidentical hormones, but the amount I needed to prevent the flashes made me bleed. When you have breakthrough bleeding after menopause, doctors want you to get endometrial biopsies. I had a few of them, and they are fast but incredibly painful. So, I've learned to live with the flashes. The worst part is never getting an uninterrupted night's sleep. I know I'm not alone in having long-term hot flashes, but I do think I could possibly break a world's record!
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Now that the story of my womb's life is complete, I want to address her directly.
To my uterus:
I am so sorry! You have done nothing but serve me as best you could, and here I am, getting rid of you. Not only that, but I have been eager to do so. It isn't your fault.
Not that you and I have always had an easy time of it. I've never blamed you for my cramps. Nor did I blame you for my miscarriage. In fact, you held on to the fetus, even after it had
died. They had to scrape it out of me because you wouldn't release it. My doctor couldn't even tell me if it was a boy or a girl. It's probably better that I didn't know.
You did have some issues, such as fibroids that made for heavy periods. They tell me there is still a calcified one inside you. It will finally leave when you do.
You fulfilled your purpose, holding and growing two babies. I find that miraculous, actually. Either you didn't want to let Max go, or he didn't want to emerge, but you held him safely until they brought him into the world. Interestingly, with Alex, it was the opposite experience. My waters never broke; a bulge of the bag of waters was the first thing that came out, and so he was born in a caul. I just read that this only happens in less than 1 in 80,000 births. The old stories say that being born in a caul means the child will be lucky or will achieve greatness, and that he or she will be immune to drowning. I can't say if that is true for Alex, but the good fortune has been mine, in being his mother.
As I prepare to go into this surgery, I want to thank you. Even though we have had some hard times and experiences, you gave me my sons, and through them, my granddaughters. How could I not be grateful to you for that? I apologize if I slighted you in my eagerness to get this tumor out of me, and you along with it. I will prepare a ritual in your honor as I prepare to surrender my female organs.
I release you not because I can't use you anymore, but because this tumor could be malignant, and I don't want it to continue to grow on or in you.
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