“Did you know you have fibroids?”
That was the first thing I heard when I went for my first ultrasound after finding out I was pregnant. I held my breath, waiting for the bad news to follow, but the ultrasound tech said there was nothing to worry about.
My pregnancy continued uneventfully, and I delivered my son via C-section. As I was lying in the OR, numb from my chest down and cut open, my midwife gasped in shock. “They are huge,” she said, referring to my fibroids. Still, she wasn’t concerned.
Fast forward to seven years later, my fibroids are causing so much discomfort I’m getting my uterus removed.
What are fibroids?
Uterine fibroids are growths made of muscle and fibrous tissue. They’re not cancerous, and up to 77% of women in childbearing years develop them.
I didn’t know I had fibroids because I had none of the common symptoms, which include heavy or long periods, pelvic pain, and, in some cases, infertility.
After my first child, I got pregnant again with twins. I worried that having three fibroids and two babies was going to be too much, but again, I had an uneventful pregnancy that ended with a C-section.
My periods got unmanageable
My first period after the twins were born came with full rage. I was expecting something like it after not having a cycle for 19 months (I didn’t have a period while breastfeeding). But with every new cycle that came, my period seemed to get worse.
My periods were so heavy that I became severely anemic and needed iron infusions. I knew something was wrong, but I figured I was just perimenopausal, and this was my new normal.
My OB/GYN thought differently and sent me for an ultrasound, which showed that my fibroids had more than doubled in size in two years. They were squishing my uterus, causing it to bleed.
My doctor told me I had two options: She could put me into early menopause through a monthly injection, or I could have my uterus removed (along with the fibroids), leaving my ovaries in to avoid menopause.
Because of where my fibroids are located, there’s no option to just remove them and leave my uterus intact. Fearing the side effects of early menopause, I chose a hysterectomy.
The decision was more emotional than I expected.
I’m done having kids
Even though my husband and I have discussed at length whether we want more kids (the answer is no), the idea of not being able to have any more kids has been, inexplicably, a hard pill to swallow.
For a second, I debated whether we should have one more “before it’s too late,” which is not the best reason to jump into any life-changing event. But I loved being pregnant, and my uterus was my babies’ first home. I’m having an incredibly hard time saying goodbye to it.
Late one night, I looked over at my husband and told him that I worried that he’d find me less attractive, knowing that I wasn’t fertile anymore. He reassured me that I had nothing to worry about and that, technically, I would still be ovulating every month. If we really wanted, we could still have another child through surrogacy. Knowing there’s a tiny window open made me feel slightly better.
My surgery has been scheduled, and I have two cycles left before the big day. I can’t wait to stop feeling exhausted every day, worrying about staining clothes, and spending a small fortune every month on period products. Now, I’m worried about my recovery post-surgery, not only physically but also emotionally.
Read the full article here
