Goodbye Lady Parts

Miss Gloria had a hysterectomy when I was in fifth grade. I loved Miss Gloria because her eyebrows were painted on. It looked like someone had taken fat, orange Crayola markers and gently swiped them above of her drooping eyes, as if to say, “There. That’s better.”

I remember her telling us that she would be gone for about eight weeks. The other kids at my reading table accepted that and walked away, but I stayed to ask why and the answer was a choked and ashamed, “Hysterectomy.”

I said goodbye to my lady parts on Wednesday, July 13th.

When I was considering the surgery, I consulted many doctors. One of them told me that It would be a castration … that I would spiritually disconnect with my womanhood.

I’m pretty sure I am still a girl, but I know what she meant. This womb (the one they sucked through my bellybutton last Wednesday) was home to my four children. It served me well. It also let me down (a lot). It was so riddled with adenometriosis that poor little Quinn barely made it. In fact all four of my children were early, so I guess my parts weren’t that homey to begin with. My friend Anne’s babies were two weeks late, so I figure that her womb is like the Plaza hotel. I imagine mine was more like a gas station bathroom, serving its purpose, but it’s not like anyone wanted to linger.

I cannot have children. I don’t WANT more children, but knowing that I CAN’T have more children is something else altogether. I cannot have more children.

Now that is not the running mantra running through my head, but I needed to say it out loud to all of you so that I could be free of it. If knowing that makes you embarrassed or ashamed, I am sorry.

My daughter is the same age I was when Miss Gloria had her insides removed. I overheard Lizzie’s best friend ask why I was having surgery and she replied, “She is having her placenta taken out.”

I smiled when I heard that, but understand the connection, as the placenta is what tore right before Quinn came. That placenta caused quite a ruckus. So I did not correct Elizabeth. My hope is that she feels about it the same way I do. Good Riddance.