“You have 3 diseases. The good news is, you don’t have cancer and they are curable. The bad news is, the only cure is a hysterectomy.” I knew it was very possible that a hysterectomy would be suggested at my follow up appointment from a recent surgery. Yet, as the doctor sat there telling me that he would more than likely have to do a complete hysterectomy, I was fighting back tears. It surprised me that I was feeling so emotional; after all, my husband has azoospermia, and I knew that I could never ever get pregnant. However, somehow being told at 30 years old, that all my reproductive organs would need to be removed, really hit a soft spot.
The doctor expressed his concern by asking if I was finished having children. I told him I wanted more children but that both of my children were adopted as would any other children that entered our family.
After speaking with the doctor, I was led to a room to watch a video on a hysterectomy and another on a monthly shot that could help 1 of the 3 diseases causing me pain. I was texting my husband during the films and a few tears slipped out. It was such an overwhelming feeling, one that I didn’t expect. I was really blind sided by the wave of emotions I felt.
I mean, I’ve known for 7 years now that we had 0% chance of conception. So, I was perplexed about why I was so overwhelmed by the loss of organs that never would serve their purpose.
After coming home and speaking with my husband, we agreed that we would have a sit down with the doctor to really discuss all of my options. As the appointment grew closer, I realized one of the reasons the hysterectomy was so upsetting was HOPE.
Every once in a while, I have strange symptoms that seem to mimic early pregnancy. I always tell myself that I’m being silly or having wishful thinking, and of course, I am. Yet, occasionally there is a small glimmer of hope that one day I will be able to experience pregnancy. The hysterectomy will snuff out that tiny spark of hope.
At this point, it looks like I will be having a complete hysterectomy in early December. Tons of people have told me that it will be the best thing I ever do. Part of me looks forward to life without constant daily pain and agonizing periods. The other part is dreading having major surgery and I am afraid somehow I won’t be the “same” afterwards.
During this doctor visit, I also found out that even if my husband did produce sperm, the chances of me ever conceiving would have been pretty slim. Most people find out they are infertile and then adopt. I adopted when I thought I was at least somewhat fertile, though my husband was not. Now, after being blessed by two amazing children through adoption, ironically I discover that I am probably infertile too. That’s ok though. While struggling with losing part of my womanhood, I know this surgery will be for the best. I have two amazing children and an awesome husband. I am blessed.