It was a big decision. It meant no more babies would be created in my body. It meant one of the things that defines me as a woman, would be permanently removed.
After I had my two kids, things downtown started to get quite disgusting. I had always had heavy periods but this was bordering on ridiculous.
Instead of having a weekly period, I seemed to bleed more than not. I had a reverse period. It felt like I had my period three weeks and one week off.
Lime-sized clots emerged from my nether regions and I turned into a crazed lunatic at times. I ruined every pair of underwear I owned.
Once, out with friends at a bar, I got up from the chair and realized that I had painted the seat red from leaking. Mortified I tried to secretly wipe it up with the cocktail napkin.
To prevent such incidents from happening again, I was up to Super Plus tampons paired with an uncomfortable pad. I felt like I was wearing a diaper.
I couldn't go for a run without worrying that a stream of red would appear down my legs.
I felt absolutely disgusting. I was grumpy all the time and extremely tired. After trying to change up my birth control pills, my doctor and I had a serious conversation about how to make my quality of life more "quality."
Only 38 at the time, I was scared to make the decision.
I debated on whether or not Tom Brady would be leaving Giselle anytime soon and bearing children with me. When I realized that probably wasn't going to happen, I bit the bullet and took a big breath. I called my doctor.
"Okay, let's take the baby bag out."
The day of the surgery I'm not sure what I felt. Sad? A little. But the way I was going, people were going to start calling me Moses as I constantly was putting out enough blood to create my own red sea.
I don't really remember much, other than the recovery was harder than I thought. My friends rallied with meals and magazines. I am forever grateful for the strong circle of women I have supporting me.
Now two years later I don't even think about it. At 40 I don't think as much about having another baby. It's easy to be content when I look at the two beautiful children I created. They inspire me everyday through love, frustrations, laughter, curiosity, kindness, caring... did I say love?
I can now go to the beach and not worry about the cotton tail hanging out of my bikini bottom. Or worse, I don't worry about serving as shark bait as I no longer bleed buckets.
There are times I wonder if I should have waited. I did keep my ovaries to avoid prematurely turning into a prune, so I do still get a touch hormonal each month, but nothing like I did prior to my hysterectomy.
It's a decision that, in the end, I'm glad I made. I feel better. My confidence is back up and I no longer have to run off to Target to purchase a pack of granny panties that are strictly worn during that time of the month.
Nope, I get to wear sexy underwear whenever I want without fear of ruining them.
Except for those days when I laugh so hard that I wet my pants. That's a story for another day.