OK, I’m not really, actually going to be a grandma in the sense that The Muffin is having a baby – though she would say that she most definitely does have a baby and his name is The Stinky. But I’m going to be a grandma in the sense that I’m potentially, voluntarily throwing myself into menopause as of December of this year.
“WHYYYY?” you might ask. Well, the answer, for me, is actually quite simple. If you don’t know anything about endometriosis, you can find out one of the many effects it has on me by reading my recent, hilarious, telling account of endometriosis and its effects on my vagina. I’ve lived with constant pain since I was 15 years old. I used to lie on the floor, butt to the wall, legs up the wall, with our heaviest dictionary on my pelvis. The pressure was the only thing that relieved some of the pain.
When I went into labor with Styles, I didn’t realize I was in labor and it wasn’t until transition that labor became more painful than my monthly cramps, but that’s only because I was using that tense, pain-inducing, crappy Lamaze method of pain management. Don’t. Just don’t. Ever.
When I was in labor with The Muffin and The Stinky, I used hypnobirthing which was much closer to how I managed my endometriosis pain on a month-to-month basis. Never at any point was labor more painful than my monthly cramps. Not at any point. Which is why I went without pain management medications
So if you’ve been in labor and asked for an epidural because the pain was too much to bear, that’s what I deal with every month. Only they don’t give an epidural for period cramps.
I thought Paleo was helping ease my cramps, but the truth of the matter is, I started Paleo when The Stinky was 6 months old and I wasn’t having cycles because I was still nursing. I started having cycles when he was about 1 year old but I didn’t stop nursing him until last November, which made him about 20 months old. The cramps started coming back around December and have become progressively worse again.
I even have pain in my pelvis when I poop. Now I don’t know about you, but I do that every day and it blows having to practice pain management techniques when you’re trying to drop the kids off at the pool. And since I’m a mom, I always have an audience. It rocks.
When I was 25, I had laparoscopic surgery to diagnose and remove endometriosis. I had a few other female issues going on in there, and the reproductive endocrinologist that performed the surgery told me that I would be a good candidate for a hysterectomy at age 30. *ugh* SO YOUNG! He told me because I also have adenomyosis, that I should probably not have any more children past 30 either. Fine by ME!
But this whole hysterectomy thing has me completely up in arms. I’ve been fighting the idea of it for 7 years, and the actual procedure for 2 years. I don’t want to have my own personal summers while I’m perusing the aisles of Target. I don’t want to deal with dryness. I take back every time I uttered the words, “I hate being juicy”, when I wasn’t referring to the size of my butt. I just can’t deal with the pain, fatigue, and bloating any longer. I just can’t. I’m over it.
I’ve had endometriosis for over half my life at this point, and I’m ready to be pain-free.
If you even have to ask if I’m done having kids, you don’t know me.
So next week, I’m seeing a doctor about scheduling a colonoscopy so that they can rule out rectal endometriosis (did you even know that existed?), I have an ultrasound on Tuesday to try to determine whether or not I will be able to keep an ovary or two, and I will go in for, hopefully, a partial hysterectomy some time in December. His hope is to do it laparoscopically which means I’ll only be out of work for a couple of days since I work from home.
Shoot, I might even schedule it the day before Christmas. That would be the best Christmas EVER, yo! I’d be all, ‘Hey, can you throw some rum in my cider? Bring me my presents, slackah! Can someone please pick the wrapping paper up off of the floor? I can’t bend down! Hey, can you dissolve one of those percocet thingies in a cup of spiked hot cocoa? Thanks!”
Best. Christmas. Ever.