Since December 2020, I haven’t experienced a period, and let me tell you, it feels incredible. No, I’m not expecting a baby. In fact, I no longer even have a uterus! At just 26 years old, I underwent a partial hysterectomy, keeping my ovaries but bidding farewell to the rest.
Initially, my mom and some friends tried to dissuade me. “You’re too young for this,” they cautioned. “What if you change your mind about having more kids?” they wondered. But look at me now—living my best life, confidently jumping up and down in white pants.
Can you grasp how liberating that is? To wear light-colored pants without the constant anxiety of checking for period stains every few minutes? Or the freedom to wear white underwear without dread? I can even have white sheets that actually stay white, rather than being designated as “period sheets.” If my kids weren’t such little tornadoes, I might even consider splurging on a white couch just because I can!
These may seem like trivial things to someone with a regular menstrual cycle, but for me, they represent a release from a 15-year-long monthly struggle. My periods were long, heavy, and agonizing. While I didn’t suffer from cramps, I was plagued by a relentless tugging pain that radiated from my belly to my back, hips, and legs. A delightful experience, indeed.
I can’t recall a time when my period wasn’t a significant event in my life. It dictated my plans, and I only realized how much it was holding me back once it was gone. Despite using menstrual discs (which are much better than tampons), I often bled through everything. With limited funds, the thought of ruining clothes, sheets, or even mattresses was a disaster waiting to happen.
Determining the turning point for my decision is tricky. All I know is my doctor approved the procedure a full year before I actually went through with it. After enduring a two-month-long bleeding episode, I finally declared, “Enough is enough.” I had an epiphany in my bathroom: I am content with my four children. I’ve tried every non-surgical option. My uterus is no longer beneficial; it’s time to let go.
Those closest to me, who had witnessed my struggles over the years, were ultimately supportive. They were happy to see me find peace in saying goodbye to an organ that held so much sentimental value. My friends even named my uterus Diana, after Diana Ross, because it was time for her to make her exit.
A week before my surgery, my friends organized a cleaning day to deep-clean my house, making sure it would be a comfortable space for my recovery. I’m truly grateful for their support.
Once I was prepped for my hysterectomy, I went home that night. Regardless of how prepared I felt to part with my uterus, the emotional aftermath was undeniable. The realization that I could never have more children was a heavy burden to bear, different from simply choosing not to have more.
Compounding my feelings, a family friend welcomed a cute baby shortly after my surgery. Seeing those pictures online triggered a mix of happiness for them and sadness for myself, making the finality of my choice even more poignant. I had truly closed the chapter on growing, nursing, and caring for newborns.
I attribute some of my emotional meltdowns to hormonal fluctuations post-surgery, but I recognize that much of what I experienced was genuine grief. This didn’t, however, mean I regretted my decision to proceed with the hysterectomy.
When I finally received my biopsy results, it validated my choice. They revealed that I had adenomyosis, a condition causing the endometrial lining to grow into the uterine wall, and I had every symptom listed for it.
Today, I no longer experience that grief I once did. Instead, I feel incredibly fortunate. I’m grateful for a doctor who listened and took my concerns seriously, ensuring I didn’t have to wait indefinitely for a surgery that would allow me to live life to the fullest. This should be standard practice, yet far too many people with periods face obstacles due to gender bias.
Above all, I’m thankful that my monthly suffering has come to an end. Opting for a partial hysterectomy at 26 years old truly gave me my life back—along with the freedom to wear white pants.
Goodbye, Diana. I won’t miss you at all.
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Summary:
At 26, I chose to undergo a partial hysterectomy, freeing myself from years of painful periods and the burden of adenomyosis. Despite initial doubts from family and friends, I found liberation in my decision, allowing me to live a fuller life without the monthly hassle. Today, I celebrate the newfound freedom that comes with this choice and feel grateful for the support of my loved ones.
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