Dear Uterus (cervix, fallopian tubes, scar tissue, and endometrial lesions), 

I regret to inform you that we are breaking up after thirty-eight years together.  

It’s not me, it’s all you.

Love, 

Me

I had my first painful period when I was eighteen.  

Two surgeries, countless birth control methods, Chinese herbs, regular acupuncture, pelvic floor therapy, numerous ultrasounds, and pelvic MRIs temporarily numbed my pain and revealed more problems.  I spent multiple nights in emergency rooms; I bled through more clothes than I cared to admit and cried to doctors that told me it was all in my head.  No one listened until after my first surgery when I had an official diagnosis.   

Did you know that it can take an average of 6-10 years for a woman to get an endometriosis diagnosis?  It took me nine.  There were no commercials that encouraged me to tell my gynecologist about my pain – sidenote; I cried when I saw those for the first time. 

I have wanted to break up with my reproductive organs for over a decade.  Doctors told me I would change my mind and want to have kids – but I would not know if I could have children unless I tried, it would be a high-risk pregnancy, and they did not know if I would be able to carry to term.  And in my pursuit over the last nine years, I had to bring Dave to my appointments because my husband should have a say in my uterus staying or going.  What kind of patriarchal bullshit is that?  Thankfully, I am married to a man who found this requirement offensive and made that known to the doctors. I bet his doctor wouldn’t ask for my permission if he wanted a vasectomy. 

Why am I telling you this? Mostly because I like to be honest and because I struggle with the fact that I love to treat women's health and fertility while having no desire to bear children.  I am invested in my fertility patients (well, all of my patients, but I’m trying to stay on topic).

I cheer their regulated periods, their follicles, their uterine linings, their egg retrievals, and their embryo transfers.  

I celebrate when they get pregnant naturally or with the help of science. 

I cry with them and for them when it doesn’t work.  

I hold their hands, I hold space for grief, I hold space for happiness, and I love when they send me baby pictures.  

With all that being said, I have met an endometrial specialist who did not question my decision or ask for Dave’s permission.  He encourages it and promises a significant improvement in my quality of life.  I am hoping that it will also improve my mental health.  

My hysterectomy is scheduled for the end of August. 

The office will be closed from August 21-Sept 13. 

I promise to take my time healing so I can come back to help you heal.