I’ve developed a relationship with my uterus in an unexpected way. Prior to my late-20’s, I hardly paid attention to my uterus. Sure, I had an idea that my womb would one day cultivate life, but other than that there wasn’t much communication. Not until my OBGYN noticed that I had two small fibroids when I was 28 years old.
A sonogram revealed two very different fibroids. One was long, narrow and attached to my left ovary. I named that one Fred. The second, was spherical and attached to the back of my uterus. That one was named Ethel.
Each year, I got a pelvic ultrasound. The technician would pile on the blue gel, roll the ultrasound thingy around on my belly and take pictures of my insides. Each year, based on the results of the ultrasound, my doctor would say, “They’re getting bigger. We’ll keep monitoring them.” I made what changes I could, with what little I knew at the time; it meant no red meat.
In the beginning of 2014, my doctor sat me down, looked me straight in the eye, and said with a delicate tone, “Your fibroids have gotten even larger. At this point it would be risky to get pregnant; there is no guarantee you can have a successful, safe pregnancy. There’s a high chance you would hemorrhage and be at high risk of dying.” I looked down at my tummy and thought, “I’m broken. The very essence of being a woman; creating life, is not within me.”
The ironic part was that I was in love, had just moved in with my boyfriend and knew that he was the one I wanted to marry and have a family with. Barely grasping the fact that I could not carry life within, a week later my mother told the family she had stage 4 lung cancer and had only 6 months to live. I didn’t have time to grieve. I went straight into survival mode to help ensure my mom’s transition was everything she wanted it and needed it to be. My mother passed away in June 2014.
Later that same year, my dear friend Gwen* (name changed) got pregnant. It was a beautiful and shocking surprise because Gwen and I had formed the “non-baby” club. For several years, since her early 20’s, Gwen had been undergoing hormone therapy in an effort to control the growth of a benign tumor in her left shoulder. The years of treatment resulted in her body going into early menopause. We had shared stories about our heartbreak on not being able to have children. Tears over cocktails could have been the name of our club. Gwen, however, was able to get pregnant by ditching the meds and hormones and she let me know in a gentle, loving way because she recognized that I still needed to grieve.
Grieve I did. I realized that something in me felt like it had died. A piece of me that had never been born was never going to come to life. I cried, I ached deep within. From then on, my pelvic ultrasounds were excruciating reminders of what could not be. Where as most women get a pelvic ultrasound to view their growing baby, I would always see an empty womb.
In May 2016, per the recent ultrasound, my doctor said, “the fibroids are larger and you have a field of new ones. You may want to seriously consider surgery to have the largest ones removed.” Ethel had grown to the size of a mandarin orange and Fred had doubled in length. All together, the collective size of the fibroids was equivalent to a second uterus. My entire torso is roughly 16 inches long. How all of the fibroids and the innards I was born with fit, is beyond me!
I decided against surgery and in June 2016, decided to treat my fibroids - Fred, Ethel and the Brady Bunch - holistically. I dedicated a steady 6 months of treatment by an acupuncturist. During my first visit to the acupuncturist, upon the read of my pulse and chi the doctor said, “Good thing you do yoga. Your chi is no good. It’s not moving.” Stagnant chi? Well that’s no bueño. My treatment began with acupuncture and foot cupping twice a month and Chinese herbs twice a day.
A list of foods not-to-eat began: no mangos or boiled eggs. Egg whites only. Don’t pair spinach with tofu. The Must-Eats were: Avocado, black berries, blueberries, eggplant, watermelon, papaya, tomato, and pineapple (only in summer). Fish once a week and three times a week during your monthly cycle. (That one did a number on my vegan brain.) ONLY organic. No sugar. The list continues to evolve.
The treatment is now down to acupuncture twice a month, still with Chinese herbs daily. My fibroids are softer, which means they are breaking down. I can feel the difference and am embracing a new perspective on myself and womanhood. It took a doctor cheering for my period to have me look at it differently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Me: “My cycle was so heavy.”
Dr.: “Good! That’s what we want. The body is purging. Make sure to rest and are gentle with yourself.”
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Me: “It felt like my uterus was sliding out”.
Dr.: “Good! That’s the feeling of your uterus releasing what it needs to!”
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Then of course, came the adjustments of what I did each month when I was on my period.
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Dr.: “No more use of tampons”
Me: “Really?”
Dr.: “It’s not healthy for your vagina and uterus. Let it flow.”
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Me: “Can I use a Diva cup?”
Dr.: “No, no good.”
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Back to the good, old fashion sanitary napkins.
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Dr.: “Don’t take long showers when you have your period.”
Me: “Ew. Why?”
Dr.: “Every poor in your body is open because your body is releasing. Only short showers. And don’t wash your hair.”
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I’m still getting used to the idea of short showers and no hair washing when I’m in my moon cycle. Ever since I started menstruating in my teens, I hated it. It felt icky, it was potentially embarrassing, and of course it was inconvenient. The list goes on. Ladies, you know what I mean. My first acupuncturist helped me develop an appreciation for the entire process.
Society has conditioned women to believe and behave as though we need to hide the fact when we have a moon cycle. There are so many derogatory comments out there to support this. Women have been taught to believe that our moon cycle is inconvenient and a hush-hush topic. What we need is to teach each other to be nurturing and gentle with ourselves. We need to relearn that we should celebrate this aspect of ourselves. It’s beautiful, it’s LIFE.
You’re bleeding? Good for you. Have a nice cup of tea.
Underwear looks like a crime scene? Beautiful! You’re rocking it, sister!
I have come to accept that all this is as it is meant to be. I believe that one of the fibroids’ purpose was an act of my higher self protecting myself from having children. I now not only accept that I can’t have children, I don’t WANT to. The fact that women can create life and give birth is amazing, but it is not something I want to do personally. My husband and I are not opposed to adopting and I believe that when the time is right, if it is meant to be, a child will walk into our world and we’ll know. (And I do literally mean “walk into our world”. A 5-year old would be great!)
My uterus and I have developed a good relationship. I check in with it quite often and listen to its needs more than ever before. Turns out my uterus is interested in giving me the life that I have. One that is beautiful, filled with love and abundance and has a great deal of creative expression.
I’m actually looking forward to my next pelvic ultrasound to see what it will reveal. I will keep you posted.