My Uterus Hates Me

Seriously, it HATES me!!

Since I "blossomed" into puberty (vomit) in 6th grade my experience has been horrible! I'm talking having to miss out on life for at least 2 days out of the month because I was unable to move due to excruciating pain, vomiting, passing out or any combination of the 3 and sometimes more. Meds would help....and by help I mean that I would be unconscious for 4 hours until they wore off and I would then awaken to another vicious cycle repeating itself. When I was 14 my doctor put me on birth control in the hopes that this would regulate and calm down my period o' purgatory. Even though my mother was afraid I would be viewed as a modern day Hester Prynne (we live deep in the Bible Belt), this plan of action worked quite well.

Then at age 21, it all started again. Except this time I began having pain all the time. I couldn't workout, I could barely walk to class. I began seeing a doctor that had massive experience with cases like mine.  The cysts that were discovered on my ovaries made my right ovary double the size of a normal ovary and my left one was quadruple that size.  An exploratory laparoscopic surgery confirmed the doctor's diagnosis of endometriosis. A case so severe that, instead of burning it off as planned, my doctor couldn't do anything at that point. When I was conscious, my doctor showed me pictures of my insides (super cool albeit super yuck) covered in the black funk that was wreaking havoc on my life. It was EVERYWHERE! It coated every surface contained within my abdominal cavity. Completely covering my bladder and so thick around my uterine artery, that it caused my doctor to not proceed until she had a chance to go over everything with me. See removing the endometeriosis could result in severing my uterine artery thereby forcing a hysterectomy at the ripe ol' age of (by this time) 22 years old. I decided to go ahead with the surgery - it was either that or attempt to get pregnant which would have been mission impossible judging by the state of my baby making equipment and the fact that while engaged, I was *GASP!!* unmarried (did I mention we live in South Georgia?).

The surgery was successful in removing ALL of the endometeriosis, but left my insides wrecked with scar tissue. My doctor told me she didn't want to offer false hope. That it would be a one-in-a-million chance for me to get pregnant. ever.  My fiance and I were heartbroken.  We had dreams of a family, little mini-us-es running around and pitt-pattering through our lives.  I gave him an out.  I told him that since I was now barren-Marion he could call it off and find someone with a ready, willing and able baby hammock.  He declined my offer and we began discussing alternatives.  We decided on being foster parents with the hopes that adoption would follow. 

We were married 5 months after my 2nd surgery and began married life.  We had a five year plan in which the adoption option took the place of the typical "trying for baby" one.  As with most plans, this one went awry.  2 and 1/2 months after getting married, something blew the 5 year plan wildly off course.  A positive pregnancy test.  I took the test as a kind of joke, not at all stupid enough to believe that it could be possible.  I stared feeling weird and thought I was coming down with a virus or something because what else could make you vomit after drinking orange juice, brushing your teeth or right before you go to bed? That and Lannie The Wonder Dog became very protective of me.  So I didn't even tell my new husband that I was taking one.  When I showed him the stick he didn't speak for 12 solid hours. I didn't do a lot of that either.  What I did do a lot of was urinating. 5 pregnancy tests.  All with the same result: positive, 2 lines, plus sign, smiley face, pink line. 

Total shock and awe.  Obviously in shock due to my prognosis and the fact that I was on birth control to prevent the re-attack of the endo-monster.  Awe because it was a miracle.  Awe because God laughs at even the most well formulated plans and (in this case) replaces it with something unimaginable and miraculous.  Awe because when our baby girl was born we were changed for life.  Then awed again when she was 3 years old and touched my belly, looked up and said, "You gots a baby in your belly, Mama".  The subsequent pregnancy tests revealed that this child is psychic and God is wonderful (albeit in fits of giggles), because yet again we believed that Marlee would be our one and only because it was impossible to become pregnant. 

So after the 2 babies and somewhat pleasant intervening periods, I believed my uterus and I had come to a cease fire.  I quickly realized that it was but a brief reprieve and my uterus was an evil genius (muwhahahaha).  I had begun to have an appreciation...oh alright I loved it for the first time in my life...for this wonderful piece of me.  But after the birth of our son, my uterus struck back with a vengeance.  Our son is now 2 years old and, as of 4 weeks ago, my uterus sleeps with the fishes (read more "Gotcha Eve").

Everything we love or hate teaches us a lesson.  Everything we love or hate changes our life dramatically.  In my uterus' case - it made my life more wonderful than I could have ever imagined and taught me to never underestimate the miracles that are waiting in life.....and to always have a good doctor on hand.