I believe that everybody and every body in this world has a purpose. My body’s purpose is not merely to live, breathe, and do cartwheels; she was mindfully crafted to be a vessel. Designed with all the intention to procreate. Over the years, I’ve learned that the most intimate, vulnerable, tumultuous, love/hate relationship I’ll ever have is with my body.
The way I take care of her through every growing phase of life is all part of her evolution and journey. From the vulnerability of youth to womanhood, through the miracles of childbirth and mid-life perimenopause, she is resilient. I feel like my body is the bounce-back queen and deserves to be acknowledged. Let’s give her all the snaps, an Olympic gold medal, and the highest of high honors for serving me to the best of her abilities.
Okay, so here’s the tea… I have a major surgery coming up, and my body will change forever. Under the care of a new doctor and new health insurance, we discovered that I have multiple uterine fibroids – one being the size of a 5-month-old fetus. After many tests and conversations with my doctor, husband, and family, I decided that a hysterectomy is what’s right for me, for us. The hysterectomy will remove my uterus, fallopian tubes, and cervix – the female anatomy that helps make me a woman, except for my ovaries. Those will stay put. Buuut, with my ovaries being connected to all the other parts that are leaving…. will they just be floating around like a lava lamp now?? Like dude, so many questions…
I know this may sound dramatic, but so many gloomy thoughts have clouded my mind, and identifying the source of these feelings and emotions has been difficult. What I realized is that I need to say “goodbye” to my body as I currently know her. Before parts of me go away forever, I need to go through the process of mourning her, telling her how much I love her, appreciate her, and give her a real, proper “goodbye.” So, this is me. Doing that.
Dear Body,
First of all, let me start by saying “I love you” and I am eternally grateful for you. You are my temple – a real mover and shaker. You are powerful, resilient, confident, and never cease to amaze me. There’s no shame in your game and you have carried me through every season of my life. With you, I’ve danced, created life, and given all the births. You’re a childbearing master and you “nailed it,” to say the least.
However, I am fully aware that you are not thriving at the moment, nor are you living your best life. You were naturally born and blessed with all the internal organs and body parts that make you a woman. You went halve-sies on creating three of the most beautiful, magnificent human beings you know. Watering and nurturing those seeds to a full bloom wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. So, thank you, my friend, for your contribution to humanity. But with that, we are fully aware that there are parts of you that no longer have a purpose. They no longer serve you and bring on unbearable amounts of pain. Over 30 years of debilitating menstrual cycles, ovarian cysts that have ruptured twice, and your newly discovered uterine fibroids, need to GET GONE. Their soul-sucking energy doesn’t deserve another ounce of your physical, mental, and emotional well-being. I’m just sorry you’ve had to experience this for so long.
With all of this happening, I can’t help but feel guilty for neglecting you. I know you’re beyond tired of going through this vicious, toxic cycle every month and it’s no longer acceptable. And more recently, it’s been harder to mentally bounce back after every cycle. But, I also want you to know that I feel you, girl. I see you sis, and I’m sorry for not taking better care of you. It’s time to make a change. I know it, you know it, we all know it. Even your 6 paid sick days at work know it. Ya girl can’t do the monthly-miserable-pity-party-of-one anymore.
So, before we start letting doctors play Operation on you, I hope this letter allows you the time and space you need to digest, process, accept, and fully honor yourself for all that you’ve done for me in the last 47 years.
To my uterus,
You are the main character, the star of the show. You da real MVP! I owe everything to you for housing and protecting my three beautiful children; Aijah, Maseo, and Greyson. You received my little fertilized eggs and protected the fetuses so they could grow, develop, and flourish. You were strong, sturdy, and reliable, and cocooned them for 10 months until you couldn’t anymore. Then you ferociously and unapologetically pushed them out into this world! Motherhood would’ve been impossible without you. Thank you for making my pregnancies relatively easy and joyful. Being prego was such a vibe, wasn’t it?? You did your thing and helped me give life. But now, you are taking MY life away from me. You’re the source of my pain and your little fibroid friends are vicious. I no longer need you, so I’m afraid I have to let you go. So, this is me, letting you go. Goodbye, uterus! It was a good ride until it wasn’t. You may now exit the building. Byeeee!
To my fallopian tubes,
Honestly, I had to google you because I didn’t know how to spell you or what the functionality of your function was. Like, what do you even do? Well, I learned that you are the transportation channel. You are the only pathway through which the sperm traveled to my eggs. You created a suitable environment for fertilization, and transported my eggs to my ovaries, then to my uterus. Wow, talk about a long commute! That sounds like a lot of work for some narrow tubes. Thank you for safely transporting all my little eggs to each station and delivering them to their ultimate destination; my uterus. You are a logistical master and played such a vital role in my procreation. But, your homie, the uterus, is retiring. So, now you gotta go too. Farewell, fallopian tubes! Thank you for your service. I would say I’ll miss you, but I never really felt you. You’re a behind-the-scenes kinda gal. But you’re skinny and iconic, so you’ll be fine. Respectfully. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya!
To my cervix,
I knew you’re a passageway and you dilate, but that’s about it. Man, I realized that as a woman who bore children, I don’t know much about how my body’s organs function. Don’t judge me. But anyway. I learned you’re the gatekeeper! You hold all the power to make childbirth actually happen. You allowed fluids to flow in and out of my uterus and protected her from bacteria and other gross stuff. And lastly, you knew when them babies were about to pop! And when we were ready, you swung the gates wide open and allowed my babies to pass safely through the birth canal. That’s a lot of responsibility! Thank you for being patient, and kind, and timing each of my births well. But, like the uterus and fallopian tubes, you need to hit the road, Jack. Au revoir, cervix! Your time is up and your shift is officially over. You get one final mic drop and this is it. Peace out, my G!
Interestingly enough, I didn’t think about the emotional and mental impact this decision would have on you, my body. But rest assured, I am slowly but surely accepting this reality and coming to my own terms. Even if I don’t know whether I’ll feel empty after or like a part of me is (literally) missing, I do know that this was important. Mourning these parts of you was important to my thought process, mental health, and well-being.
I keep telling myself that. So, this is my final farewell to you. You have 100% served your purpose here on earth, you maximized your fullest potential and lived your truth. Snap, snap, snap. Starting now, I promise to take better care of you, my body. We’ve spent 25 years taking care of everyone else, and now it’s your turn. You’re the priority. I will cherish you, nurture you, and allow you to express yourself in all the ways you see fit. Through the wind, rain, and storm. Because let’s be real… you ain’t getting any younger, and you require a lot more maintenance. Gotta keep up with the upkeep, hunny! Now, this is me… mentally prepared for this procedure, giving and receiving closure, and relishing in acceptance. It’s high time for me to start the next journey of my life, with my body. Until then….
Xoxo,
Geo
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