The robots are taking my uterus away.

Below the cut for much discussion.

Part of me thinks I shouldn’t so darned relieved that as of Monday I will no longer have a uterus. People ask why I’m having it out, and it’s weird because it is normal. I am not having periods right now due to breastfeeding. I don’t have fibroids. My periods weren’t even that horrific around the time I got pregnant with Miles, though there have certainly been times in my life when they were.

It comes down to one thing. I am done. I am done having babies. I am done worrying about being pregnant. I am done being celibate (or I will be once my pelvic floor has healed) because every damn method is not really compatible with me.  I am done with bleeding, with cramping, with the random feeling of heaviness in my core. I don’t want to think about it anymore. As Phoebe says, “Unsubscribe me from the monthly reminders, please.” Yes, I know there are tubals, and ablations, and when it comes down to it, the only way to 100% guarantee no more babies is to get the damn thing out. Done. Also, having it out will make the rest of the pelvic repair a little more likely to hold, and may help me heal faster than leaving it in would allow due to the tricks they need to do to support the uterus in this kind of surgery.

I need to get the damage my kids caused to my vaginal wall repaired. No one talks about these things, but I will because it’s a lonely, lonely feeling. The muscles that separate my rectum from my vaginal have split completely. Not the skin, just the underlying muscles. So there is not much between them. I don’t have a fistula, just a rectocele, but it’s been annoying for 19 1/2 years. That’s long enough for me to have to do the things I need to do in order to have regular function. I also have a cystocele. I do not have a terrible pelvic floor, I don’t have problems with sphincters. I just need the muscles brought back together and held in place so that my function is more normal. So that I can go to the bathroom in a less complicated manner.

But it is like taking the car in to get it fixed… it is inconvenient and unpleasant.

This is going to really, really hurt. I’m going in reasonably functional and will then not be very functional for weeks or months. Then, hopefully, I will be more functional in many ways.

I was reminded today that I cannot take NSAIDS while taking even the low dose of Lovenox they’re putting me on. This is upsetting. I’ve been off the NSAIDS for a week and a half and it put me back months in recovery pain and function wise. Recovery from pregnancy.

He’s almost a year old, and I still think in terms of recovery from pregnancy. That’s how much I need to not ever be pregnant again. Ever.

I had an ultrasound Wednesday, pre-op. Normal, even small uterus (breastfeeding will do that). Empty. That felt strange, I got used to seeing a little kicking human in there, I had such a ridiculously high number of ultrasounds with Miles. Tiny little wistful, and a whole ton of “no no no never again”. And I’ve been crampy ever since. No, we’re not sparing the cervix. It’s a prissy, finicky little bitch and it can go along with the rest of it. The ovaries can stay. I’ll get my monthly “ping”, but compared to the week of unpleasantness that is my period, the day of ovulation is nothing.

The PT suggested sparing the cervix, but it would prolong surgery and might require an abdominal incision. Not worth it, risk-wise.

I will be in the hospital overnight. Possibly longer if I need the injectible pain meds longer, given I can’t take NSAIDS.

The family is gearing up for it. K is moving back into helper mode (her head caused the worst damage, it’s only fair). There is a feeling of deja vu, after last Christmas, when I was due. Mom had both knees replaced this summer, our family knows how to handle this kind of thing.

Part of me is wondering why I am putting myself through this. Them through this. Then I get that heavy feeling in my core, and I remember. And a friend gets a positive pregnancy test despite having had a tubal. And I know it’s the right choice. The only choice that will truly, completely let me not worry about ever getting pregnant again.

Because an accidental pregnancy at this point would have me ready to jump off a bridge, I have not done anything to risk pregnancy since I had Miles. On the ultrasound, we could see follicles on my ovaries. Lurking. Laying in wait. No. No more.

I used NFP very successfully. But what they don’t talk about much is the fact that for many of us, sticking to the lowest risk times of the month means sticking to the times of the month when one could care less about sex. I’m done with that bit too. The thought of going back to that mode of doing things makes me irrationally angry. Done.

I’m trading the next couple of months for years of less stress.

And the tired Mom in me thinks that pain or no, at least I’ll get to sleep a lot. For weeks.

They offered to do an epidural for the surgery. I laughed at them. After what happened during the birth? KNOCK ME THE FUCK OUT. Done. The last thing the doctor needs is me cracking wise while she’s got robot arms stuck in my insides. The last thing I need is to be aware of this process while it is happening.

I just hope it ends up being the right thing to do. It is a risk. I could theoretically go on for years the way I am now. But I’d like to have less stress incontinence. I’d like to not have to splint my rectum through my vagina in order to poop. I’d like to have sex without worrying about another pregnancy. And I do not want another period. Period. And I don’t want to go 3 months without picking up my son. And if we do it now, it costs us very little compared to doing it next year, and the year after is a HUGE question mark for health care expenses because our insurance plan will be going away at that point in favor of whatever we buy on the Exchange. In an ideal world I might do this next summer. But it’s not an ideal world. And so, I’m done.