memories

When One Door Closes.

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Okay, so maybe it’s a big door.

On a normal basis I would be blogging almost constantly – somehow, someway, I have a thought. I always want to share something, tell a story, vent my feelings. It’s just occurred to me that it’s been quite some time since I stepped foot into my own world of writing. While I shadow over other blogs, watch, like, meander my way through others’ thoughts … I started to wonder when exactly I was going to update my own.

On April 3, 2014 – I will have a complete hysterectomy.

Yes, my opiate free days will be over for a short time, but they will be controlled, this is not the major issue and there is no failure here.

I have not ventured back to blogging recently because I have been suffering – physically. It is the worst pain in the world to handle when you cannot exactly pinpoint the cause. My battle to stay away from pain medications made it even more difficult. I realized in the process how strong I really am. I have a severe case of endometriosis that has my uterus completely tipped backwards.

Ouch.

It’s also likely scar tissue from three c-sections that has caused this as well.

Pain by day, pain by night, pain is my middle name.

We are finally tackling this problem. At the age of 34 I will go through complete menopause. My child bearing days are over, my days of using PMS as an excuse for a mood swing and throwing the remote at the television (I just really wanted that winning touchdown) – they’re over.

It is a relief to know that – well, relief is coming. Soon, I will be able to live a normal life outside of my house and pajamas, away from my heating pad, and physical therapist. Soon, I will be able to lift my children without wincing, have a simple day without Advil.

(Yes, I do take Advil, sue me, but at least it’s over the counter)

When one door closes, another opens they say. While I’m stoked for this soon-to-be relief from this catacomb of misery within my poor body – part of me, as a female and mother, is almost sad. This body part is actually a place for me. Within my skin and bones this particular realm was home to three beautiful children that I held all to myself before they were born. You can call it flesh, or skin, or simply an organ.

This amazing piece of me – made humans.

I had already made the decision I did not want any more children – this part does not depress me.

(Yay for lifelong birth control)

I guess simply stated: to know that the part of you where your children first kicked you, head butted your insides, rolled around and caused you heartburn – is suddenly going to be cut apart and thrown into a hazmat bag, I can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness regardless of the problems it has caused me.

Yet this opens a door now. Instead of concentrating on the pain, and how to get rid of it, once it’s gone, I can actually enjoy watching my children grow up. I can interact. I can be their mommy – as I always have been, but have been failing to be the best because my body does not allow it.

My journey now becomes mental. It will be saying goodbye to something I’ve always held dear – the ability to have brought children into the world and to bake a human inside of my own body. These beings now exist because of what I was blessed with in the beginning – a functional system.

This functional system is now, well, not functioning correctly and so it’s with that deep pit of inner sadness, I have to let it go. It’s soon to be part of the medical waste compost unit “Do not Touch”. Little do they know when they throw those bags into the compacter – what they’ve thrown away is the home to three amazing souls and I will forever be thankful.

Yes, I’ve been sick. I shall soon to be returning to the blogging world hopefully in tip top shape and pain free.

And when I do, I will elaborate on the lives that I was blessed enough to bring into this world and how they have inspired me to be better, do better, and live better. Life will be different.

But the end of something is always the beginning of something else.

Let my new life begin and the witnessing of three little babies growing – outside of me – is now a concept I can grasp onto. I can now make memories, live in the present, and feel happy with what I have.

Even if my body is hollowed of what was always a gift. It just happens to be broken. I’m sending it out with a huge thank you, I appreciated you, I will never forget you – but moreover, I will always be grateful for the three faces that came out of there, for they are what makes me tick.

Let the countdown to a new life begin.

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