It was five years ago this week (geez, time flies), when I was lying on an examining table in a bright white room and my curiosity got the better of me. If I lifted my head off the pillow a couple of inches, and turned to the right, I could just make out the big black void that appeared on the screen of the doctor’s monitor.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“That’s your uterus,” the doctor replied. Only that’s not what I heard. In my head I heard “That’s your big empty useless uterus.”
Dang.
I really thought I was in a good place, that I was okay being the middle-aged childfree woman. I had steeled myself for a waiting room full of pregnant bellies (it was just me—whew!), I had prepared myself to oh-so-casually answer questions about my own pregnancies (none) and family plans (again, none). I was even hopeful that the exam would show the presence of a cyst (indeed, it did), which would explain some painful symptoms I had been experiencing earlier that year, thus giving my doctor the impetus to explore treatment options. All good.
But all the pretty thoughts seeped out of me as I was lying there, prone, and seeing The Void, and thinking the only thing my beautiful uterus was good for now—perhaps was ever good for—was producing freakish growths.
I am happy to report that subsequent surgery removed the benign cyst and I have been (knock on wood) in good health since. I am also happy to report that, over these last five years, I have made more progress on my journey to accepting my life without children.
Sometimes, though, I still feel the invisible scars. They live deep inside me, where they won’t appear on the most technologically advanced scans, and they occasionally twinge. I still feel The Void, the voids, and on those days, the best self-love medicine I can give myself is saying out loud: I’m still here.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
Still being here is a miricle in it’s self and a true blessing considering all the many different processes, thoughts and feelings we go through and have to deal with. We should hold one another up in our wonderful, although sometimes often frequently fragile, strength at going through so much and withstanding the storms and still holding on fast. I think everyone is tremendously courageous, despite the pain and hurt we quietly carry with us. I think our gift is to carry on with love in our hearts and to be living to others and most especially having permission to love ourselves, as we are most deserving of love for just who we are as we stand, where we are. God Bless
Mine is also a useless uterus and the only thing that produced was growths. I am fine now…still bothers me when I am left out.
Praying, always!
I love this blog ! Thank you!