Bad Lady Plumbing: Choosing to End my Childbearing Years

Years ago I made peace with the fact that I would not be a mother. I am not one of those women who never wanted children. At one time I did. However, I have not been willing to compromise my vision of the circumstances under which I wanted to raise a child. I would rather not be a mother than intentionally enter into motherhood single. I didn't meet the father of my child in time. And I'm past the point in my life where I desire to raise an infant. I have tremendous respect for those women who make such choices but these are not the right life choices for me.

Nevertheless, people around me - well meaning, no doubt - feel the need to tell me that I could choose to be artificially inseminated. Several years ago, I spoke to my then gynecologist about my options. She gave me the name of the sperm bank she used and I browsed the online listing of donors. That exercise helped me realize that it was not the right choice for me. I prefer to get knocked up the old fashioned, patriarchal way, i.e by my husband.

The well meaning also helpfully share every news report of senior citizen grandmothers who set records for the oldest woman to give birth. They assure me that it's not to late for me since I'm so much younger.

Helpful hints such as these drive me crazy. I've made my choice and such comments frustrate me and leave me feeling disrespected. I've made up my mind, dammit!

Which is why I'm so surprised to find myself sad and a little bit freaked out by my upcoming surgery to help fix my bad lady plumbing.

The women in my family have a history of heavy monthly bleeding. Some to the point of hemorrhaging so badly that emergency surgery has been necessary. I don't want to get to that point. I've taken birth control pills for years, however, my doctor is no longer comfortable with me continuing this treatment. She's given me several options to try next and I chose preemptive surgery.

It's empowering in one sense. I'm taking control of my body and not waiting until I have no choice in the matter and wind up in the ER.

But, as I sat with a team of doctors discussing my various options I was sad. And part of me has remained sad. We narrowed my options to two different types of uterine ablation (effectively, burning off the lining of my uterus) or hysterectomy (surgically removing it). Regardless of which of these procedures I choose, pregnancy will no longer be an option for me.

Yes, if I change my mind about motherhood I could pursue adoption. If having nurturing, mothering energy in my life feels crucial I can lavish more attention on my niece, nephews and young cousins. I could volunteer to mentor children. Though the experience would not be the same, I can choose. But I still have this voice in my head that is screaming at me to stop and run to the nearest sperm bank. Then I have a little talk with my inner voice and remind her while she might be happy and feel like I was fulfilling some primal womanly desire, that, recognizing the reality of raising a child for many years, my brain is therefore shutting her down.

For now though, I have to choose my surgery. First things first. Afterward I will grieve the loss of my ability to bear children. And then I will continue to live and love.