It’s been since December 2020 since I last experienced a menstrual cycle, and let me tell you, it feels incredible. No, I’m not expecting a baby. In fact, I no longer have a uterus at all. At the age of 26, I underwent a partial hysterectomy, keeping only my ovaries.
My mother and several friends voiced their hesitations. “You’re way too young for this,” they warned. “You might regret it later. What if you want more children?” they questioned.
But here I am, living my best life, able to wear white pants without a care. Seriously, do you know how liberating that is? To toss on light-colored trousers without constantly checking for any signs of menstrual flow? To strut around without a cardigan draped around my waist “just in case”?
I can wear white underwear. WHITE. UNDERWEAR. My sheets can remain pristine and I don’t have to reserve them for “that time of the month.” If my kids weren’t such little tornadoes, I might even treat myself to a white couch just because I can.
These may sound like trivial luxuries to someone with an average menstrual cycle, but for me, it symbolizes liberation from a burden I carried for 15 long years. I endured heavy, painful periods, accompanied by relentless discomfort that radiated from my abdomen to my back, hips, and down my legs. It was no picnic.
My menstrual cycle was a monthly event that dictated my life. I didn’t realize how much it impacted me until it was no longer there. Despite using a menstrual disc (since tampons only exacerbated my discomfort), I often found myself bleeding through. I didn’t have the finances to replace soiled clothes or linens, making every leak a catastrophe.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I decided to proceed with the hysterectomy. My doctor had approved the operation a year before I actually went through with it. After a particularly grueling two-month bleed, I finally decided enough was enough. In a moment of clarity in my bathroom, I acknowledged that I was content with my four children. I had explored all non-surgical alternatives, and my uterus was no longer serving me. It was time to part ways.
Those who had listened to my struggles over the years ultimately supported my decision. They were glad to see me find peace in saying goodbye to an organ that held significant sentimental value. My friends, who had once named our body parts in our youth, decided to name my uterus “Beyoncé.” Because whether we liked it or not, she was on her way out.
In the week leading up to my surgery, my friends organized a day to help me deep-clean my home, preparing a welcoming space for my recovery. Honestly, they’re the best.
Once the surgery was complete, I returned home that night. Regardless of my readiness to say farewell to my uterus, I experienced a grieving process. The realization that I could never have more children—rather than choosing not to—was overwhelming.
Compounding my feelings was the fact that a family friend welcomed a beautiful baby shortly after my procedure. I found myself crying tears of joy for them, mixed with sadness for my own situation. It made the finality of my choice painfully real.
While I initially attributed my emotional reactions to post-surgery hormonal shifts, I now recognize that much of it was genuine grief. However, this did not imply I had made a mistake in my decision.
When my biopsy results arrived, they confirmed my choice. I had adenomyosis, a condition where the endometrial lining grows into the uterine wall, and I exhibited every symptom associated with it.
Now, I feel less of that grief and mostly gratitude. I’m thankful for a doctor who listened to my concerns and didn’t make me wait unnecessarily for the surgery I required to reclaim my life. There was no hesitation on his part due to societal misconceptions about women potentially changing their minds about motherhood. He provided his professional opinion and allowed me to make the final call, which should be the standard but unfortunately isn’t for many women.
Most importantly, I’m grateful that my monthly suffering has ceased. Opting for a partial hysterectomy at 26 granted me my life back—along with my white pants. Goodbye, Beyoncé. You won’t be missed.
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In summary, undergoing a partial hysterectomy at 26 transformed my life by freeing me from the pains of menstruation. With the support of my friends and a caring doctor, I embraced this significant change, and while it brought about an emotional transition, I now feel liberated and grateful.