Miracle

That hollowness after my hysterectomy haunted me...the gutting question "What if our chance for a miracle is gone?"

You know what I've realized? How could I ever forget? How!?  Being sick...that was the miracle. Being sick, that lead us to her. From sunup to sundown...she is our miracle. Every single day. Maybe someday we'll be lucky enough to encounter another such miracle...I look at her face and she fills that hollowness of mine full of hope.

Question Marks

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

The question everyone asks after is, “How are you doing!?”

My broken heart beats back “I’m-so sad-so sad-so tired-so tired”, but I swallow those broken beats, and grab for my halfhearted “Oh-I’m-ok-thanks-for-asking” masked reply and put that on instead.

It’s just easier.

I had an answer. I had a name for my pain. After years of trying everything to tame the angsty question marks rattling around in my head, I finally got to belong to a club. I found comfort and comradery, I had fellow sisters soldiering on against this pain too.

Then…I got kicked out of the club.

Pathology. Benign. Not malignant. Not harmful in effect.  

The only way to confirm diagnosis of Adenomyosis is by biopsy AFTER a hysterectomy. It’s the only way. I never thought it wouldn’t be there. I had so many of the symptoms. I was confident in my doctor. He was the one to finally give me answers after all these years of question mark pain.

It wasn’t there. Nothing was there.   

I have no path to the pain. I will never have an answer to that question. The welcome back party to the invisible illness club was cold. It’s lonely and empty here. Your companions are more question marks punctuated with anger, guilt, shame and deep aching sadness.

My physical pain is gone. So, look at the bright side, right? What about the dark side…will it come back? And that tiny spark of “what…if…a…miracle…could…happen?” is…extinguished, and I’ve felt that profoundly. All that’s there now is a cavernous hole, with all those question marks still rattling around hollowly.

The End

"It's important that we share our experiences with other people. Your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else. When you tell your story, you free yourself and give other people permission to acknowledge their own story."  -Iyanla Vanzant

“Wow, so you’ve gained some serious weight since your last physical. Are you just sitting at your desk all day? You need to get you moving!” the physical therapist at my annual work physical blurted out. As if I wasn’t already super conscious about my rapidly changing body…his blunt comments sealed the deal.

“Well, I just got married…maybe it’s the “freshman 15” x 2?” I tried to joke back to lighten the mood, so I wouldn’t start crying.

In all honesty, I had no idea what was going on with my body. I was exhausted, no matter how much sleep I got the night before. I was achy down to my bones and moved like a brittle old woman. I loved to run, but I just simply couldn’t get my body to move that way anymore. I felt stressed all the time. I was gaining weight fast, my body inflamed and swelling up like I was stung by a giant bumblebee. I was pretty sure I was becoming the new poster child for the bearded woman…every woman should rock a 5 o’clock shadow, right?! I hadn’t had a period in 6 months. As much as I wished I were miraculously pregnant…I was left empty and barren month after month.

Doctor, doctor, doctor. Test, test, test. Please, please, please…will someone help figure out what’s wrong with me?

“Well…you’ve got Hypothyroidism. You’re so tired and gaining weight. Here’s a pill to help that.”

“Well…you’ve got a nasty case of Bell’s Palsy. You’re stressed and have so much inflammation, you’ll have permeant facial paralysis. There’s no pill to help that”

“Well…you’ve got Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. You’re an achy ballooning, barren bearded woman. Here’s a pill to help that.”

7 different doctors. 3 different diagnoses. 5 years. 100’s of pills. 1 body…continuing to fail. 

“Well, well, well…you’ve got Adenomyosis. You’re crampy, clotting, bloated, nauseous, anemic, and hormonally imbalance.  Your hair is falling out in clumps. You’ve gained 70 lbs. You’re depressed, anxious and you have pain everywhere. There’s no pill to help that. You’re getting worse. At this point we can do a hysterectomy.”

32 years old. 0 pregnancies. 0 miscarriages. 1 broken body. 1 broken womb. 

So…The End has finally come. Hysterectomy. It's a sad and happy grief at the same time. While glowing women around me are in their prime of birthing babies, I will lose that part of me to a hysterectomy. My miracle babies will hopefully still come to me in a different way. Hopefully The End means a new beginning, with a less broken body.

This story of ours, the heartbreak and healing, trials and triumph, mourning and miracles, grief and gratitude, pain and pure joy, has taken the blinders from my eyes. All of our stories are intertwined. Loss, grief and sadness seeps into all of our lives, in one way or another. And we all have experiences that leave our shoulders pinned beneath heavy boulders. Some loads last only days, others last months to years and some last a lifetime. Some loads simply titter off, while some threatening to come crashing down on us. Despite these rockfalls of life, these burdens don't have to render you worthless. You have worth, no matter what load you are carrying. You are always enough. You are always loved. Someday you will be stronger...because of these loads. Be gentle with yourself and love yourself...because so many others do.  

We'll make it through.