I thought she just needed to warm up to the new school year. We were in a new grade, in a new building. Transitions can be challenging. I reasoned that anyone might need a few days to settle in. Then, things quickly escalated. She didn’t want to go to school. The final straw was when I had to go pick her up 2 days in a row because the office called me with her bawling in the background.
Up until that point I thought she was having a little separation anxiety. Which would have been standard. But, it wasn’t that she was crying. It was the way she was crying. The desperation and fear. The way she clung to me let me know that something was very wrong. This was more than separation anxiety. My girl… my effervescent star was losing her shine.
Revealing my struggles felt like weakness. Until recently, I prided myself on being the strong one. So, I refused to disclose the fullness of my pain. But people love me. Without fail, they all wanted to comfort me. They all wanted to fill in the places I could not. A few wanted to know everything. Others wanted to get by with as little information as possible. And I get it. I think people understand the complexities of choosing to have a hysterectomy.
After all, 40 it is relatively young to remove reproductive organs. In this day and age many women, at 40, are just embarking on their first pregnancy. Women are choosing to a party, travel and pursue their careers as priorities over marriage and children. I, of course, think this is wonderful. It means that more women are choosing to invest in the desires of their own hearts rather than the desires of their circle of influence or the insistence of the world that marriage and motherhood define womanhood.
