Hysterectomy

Rubbing salt into the wound

Years ago, when I was still trying to hang onto hope, I did everything my OB/GYN suggested. One of those things was to take an injection that was available in a monthly or 90-day dose. I tried both doses. The medication was used to dissolve fibroids.  It didn’t do much for me. And unfortunately, one of the side effects of this medication was menopausal symptoms. I called it man-made menopause.

I had hot flashes, mood swings, depression, and sadness. But I believe the depression and sadness were mostly due to the drama of hanging on, buying time, while waiting to meet Mr. Right. I had considered IVF and I made two attempts at adoption. But I decided against IVF because it was too expensive and because my mom compelled me not to take that avenue.

But I was desperate.  God was not answering my prayers. The prayers I sent up to him for more than a decade. I became so desperate that I begged him to forgive me for whatever sins I had committed.  I asked him to forgive my family for any generational curses that were causing these cursed fibroids. I bargained with him. I begged him for a husband, I begged him for a child.

Silence.

The silence was deafening. Sometimes I would feel Him impressing upon my heart that everything would be alright. But as far as I was concerned, it was not. I wanted a child. Nothing would ever be alright without a child.

Mr. Right never showed up, I never had the baby, and I ended up having to have a hysterectomy.

Silence.

Now I am going through natural menopause. It is nowhere near as bad as the man-made menopause. I am not depressed and I am not having mood swings, but the incessant flushing is almost impossible to bear. It feels like salt is being rubbed into the wound. The wound of everything I endured. How many people do you know who have gone through menopause twice?   

They say God will not give us any more than we can bear, but honestly, I believe that is just a saying.

I am not whining, because many people around the world, children, and adults alike, are enduring unbelievable grief and sadness. As a fellow human being, I think about people around the world on a regular basis. I think about childless women, I think about abandoned and enslaved children, and I wonder what I can do to make things better for them, for others.

The fact is, although my heart is broken, it is healing. Although nothing that breaks will ever be the same again; whether we are talking about broken china, a broken leg, or a broken heart. They will never be completely brand new. But they will be functional. And the level of functionality depends on use. We can walk on a leg that was broken after it is healed, and we should.  Using the leg increases its functionality. We can use broken china after it is glued if only to put or keep it on display.  We can function with a broken heart if we push through the hurt and help others.  In each of those cases, a choice had to be made.  

We have to choose to function with the broken heart. There is a lot to be done in this world. And I believe we can do our part broken and healed.