April 25, 2011



is for Uterus

Fasten your seat belts, put on your big girls panties, pad up, and away we go!

I have a love/hate relationship with my 'lady parts". The parts that allowed me to birth my beautiful children, pushing their watermelon sized heads through a pea sized hole, well I loved them, for a short time. Through the marvel of conception, I now have stretched my delicate flower out. Nice.

All those pink squishy innards that allowed me to incubate those babies...... making me waddle when I was prego with Lil C, making my ribs hurt like I had been in the boxing ring when I was carrying Doodle.

Oh the joy of pregnancy........ yeah right! I think I just threw up in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I love love LOVE my kiddos. I just really hate being pregnant. I was not one of those women that "glowed". I used to think that was a myth until I actually saw a pregnant lady glow. It was weird. If I didn't know better I would have thought the special effects team was following her around, spraying her face to make it look "dewey" and providing the back lighting to make her appear angelic.

If you think I am bitchy now, you should have seen me preggers. I was miserable, and I let everyone know it. Being only 5 feet tall, where are those babies supposed to go? I swear those kids poked every crack and crevice of my upper body. I was constantly sore, and the waddling around like a bloated duck just made me feel fat and ugly.

I have a road map of stretch marks across my stomach, the tops of my boobs, my upper things, lower back and a few that wisp out from my armpits. Nice. Not that I ever had a desire to wear a bikini. Ever again. But if I did? It would NOT be possible thanks to these angry tears that are so clearly seen.

I was not one of those ladies that wanted pictures of my bump taken to document every month that I was closer to my due date. I did not want a plaster mold of my H-U-G-E stomach to hang on the wall, forever reminding me of my largeness. Selfish? Perhaps. I don't think my children are lacking for anything because I didn't document every second, of every day, of every month that I carted them around in my womb. then again, what do I know?

I knew the minute Doodle was born, that I NEVER WANTED TO BE PREGNANT AGAIN. I could do without the weird cravings, the heart burn, and the total uncomfortableness that comes with it. Yet, I have not had a hysterectomy. I made HeeHaw have a vasectomy instead. At the time, it seemed like the easier choice. I was almost 22 when I had Doodle, and the doctors looked at me like I was nuts. With HeeHaw being 28 then, we made the choice to do a vasectomy instead.

The procedure was out patient, in and out in an hour, and sitting on a bag of frozen corn for the weekend. No problem. Now, that I am divorced, and have to worry about those "lady parts" again, I am realizing the near-sightedness of that decision. I now have to worry about birth control, contraception and the fear of pregnancy all over again. Something I have not had to think about in almost 12 years. Good grief!

Now, becomes the task of researching what it would cost me, how much time I would be down, and having that conversation with my doctor. You know, the one. Well, you are young. You could still have children.......... That's nice and all. I realize I am only 33 years old. But, it's my body. And I don't want to HAVE any more children. Even if I lost one of my kiddos now, I certainly wouldn't have another CHILD to REPLACE the one I lost. Yes, I realize it's permanent. So, go ahead and yank those parts. The ones that make me bleed like a stuck pig every 28 days. That make me irritable, have menstrual cramps, make my claws come out constantly, and make my children hide from me.

I feel bitter every time I hear someone else has had a hysterectomy. Only because I am green with envy...... One of these days I will make this happen. Until then, fellow ladies with your parts still in tact, we will stick together, commiserating with one another and holding each others hands; when we aren't bitch slapping each other for being Queen B.

No comments: