I first experienced my menstrual cycle at the age of 11. By 12, my mother sought advice from a pediatrician due to my excessively heavy periods and excruciating cramps. At 14, I attempted to prevent my periods altogether by using continuous birth control, but they still came at the most inconvenient moments. Pain was a constant companion, yet doctors never seemed alarmed. It was my reality, and I accepted it as normal.
Fast forward to 20, when I consulted with a new OB-GYN who was younger and more approachable. During our discussion, she asked, “Since you’re only intimate with women, what’s the reason behind being on birth control?” I shared my history of painful periods. She suggested the Mirena IUD, which I had placed a week later. This device nearly eliminated my periods, with only occasional bleeding.
One chilly February morning, after attending a Pure Barre class, I felt something was amiss with my body. Despite this, I went to meet a friend for brunch. After one mimosa, I realized I needed urgent medical attention. Upon arriving at the emergency room, I was in so much pain that I collapsed on the floor. Despite my obvious distress, I was made to wait. Eventually, a nurse administered morphine and later Dilaudid, which finally brought some relief.
CT scans, ultrasounds, and a transvaginal ultrasound followed, revealing an ovarian cyst—a common occurrence for me. But then, the on-call OB-GYN suggested exploratory surgery due to my intense pain. I consented, and within hours, I found myself on the operating table.
When I awoke in recovery, my family was at my side. “You’ve lost your right ovary due to torsion, and they discovered endometriosis,” my doctor informed me. Endometriosis occurs when tissue similar to the uterine lining grows outside the uterus, leading to painful lesions that can cause inflammation and scar tissue. I had experienced years of symptoms, but it took this moment for the doctors to connect the dots.
Although I was discharged, my pain persisted. A few months later, I underwent excision surgery for the endometriosis, but it failed. By December, I had endured four surgeries and spent a significant amount of time in the hospital. I was determined for the following year to be different. After multiple ER visits, I reached out to my OB-GYN for help. He admitted his limitations and referred me to a more experienced doctor.
This new doctor spent nearly two hours with me, asking questions no one else had thought to ask about how endometriosis impacted my life. I broke down in tears, explaining how it affected my daily existence, particularly my sex life, which had become painful and traumatic. He suggested that I consider a hysterectomy, hinting at the possibility of adenomyosis or severe adhesions. I left his office knowing that a hysterectomy was the right choice for me.
However, the reactions from others were discouraging. Friends and family warned me against it, claiming I would regret such a significant decision so young. My mother, while skeptical, promised to support my choice.
After a few days of contemplation, I scheduled the surgery. I read countless stories from women expressing gratitude for their hysterectomies, many of whom had children to thank their bodies for. I, however, had no children and was only 25. My uterus had caused me more trouble than joy.
On the morning of my hysterectomy, an anesthesiologist questioned my decision. I stood firm, feeling confident in my choice. Later, my surgeon assured me that he would do his best to save my remaining ovary but was prepared for the worst.
After the operation, he explained how my uterus was fused to my abdominal wall and intestines due to adhesions. He had to call in a GI surgeon to assist with the dissection. He also found fibroids and more endometriosis. “Your uterus could never have supported a pregnancy,” he concluded, showing me pictures of the damage.
Hearing that my decision was validated felt like a weight lifted. Since the surgery, I have not experienced the pain that once ruled my life. I no longer wake up in agony or live in fear of my next period.
Reflecting on my experience, my hysterectomy ranks among my best life choices. It has significantly improved my quality of life. I’m passionate about sharing my story with other women, whether at the doctor’s office, in line at the grocery store, or even with friends. I want them to know that a hysterectomy can be a positive choice and that it doesn’t define your womanhood.
I want everyone to understand that I had a hysterectomy, and it changed my life for the better. I still envision a future where I can become a mother through adoption, proving that a uterus isn’t necessary for motherhood or femininity.
For those interested in learning more about fertility and family planning, resources such as MedlinePlus offer valuable information. If you’re considering your options, the insights from Molly and Jake at Oxford Fertility can help guide your journey. Additionally, if you’re interested in boosting your fertility naturally, check out our article on fertility supplements.
In summary, my journey through a hysterectomy at 25 has transformed my life for the better, allowing me to reclaim my health and happiness.