becoming Mrs. City Momma

Friday, June 20, 2008

summer solstice.
the longest day of the year.
i’ve always loved this day.

and i still do -
but now this day has a new meaning for me.

you see, the summer solstice 3 years ago was a perfect day. clear and warm and sunny. and it marked the beginning of the end for a very happy place in my life.

now please, do not misunderstand – i have a good life now, too. i love my son and my husband. we live in a good little house in a good little suburb on the edge of a good little city and life is, well, good.

3 years ago, i was living in athens, ohio, in a farmhouse on a hill with a lovely freind and her son. it was a perfect summer. warm. sunny. free. i was dating ryan, and had made plans to move to cleveland with him, but to be honest, still felt at home in athens. ultimately, i still saw myself as single and free to do as i chose with little to no consequence.

3 years ago, i was more mellow than, say, 6 years ago, but i still saw myself as a rad woman working to make the world a better place. i was a budding chef with a growing local following. i felt good about my life.

3 years ago today, i started the my last menstrual before becoming pregnant.

why does this day matter to me?
i still had 2 more weeks of not being pregnant.
another 2 of not knowing i was pregnant.
9 months of being with child, but not having a child.
and more periods after Will was born.

i think it matters so much to me because it was the last time i would enjoy having my monthly time.

Will’s birth did a lot of damage to me. physically. a torn cyrvix. a mutilated vaginal opening. Will’s shoulders got stuck on the way out – the dr. had to reach in and pull him out manually. (he was 100% perfect, by the way.) over 250 stiches. with 20/20 hindsight, the dr. said it should have been a c-section. the torn tissue did not heal correctly at first. for the first 4 months – i thought i was going crazy. couldn’t stand long enough to change a diaper without crying from the pain. being treated like a whiny drama queen by the dr.s staff. i became “that woman.” “it’s psycho-somatic” = “you’re imagining it.” finally, a reference to a 2nd dr. who found the problem and solved it. “corrugated tissue.” an open wound that would not have closed on its own. but then we saw the bigger problem. all the tearing, stretching – the attachments that held my womb in place were weakening. giving way. my womb was falling out.

As it got worse, i began walking less, moving less. i used to love to hike. The act of standing up, sitting down, rolling up from laying on my back went from uncomfortable to hurt. Sex was a thing of the very distant past. i stopped cooking. going to the farmers’ markets. put on weight. i got sad. (or sadder, as the case was.) in the worst moments – i regretted having my wonderful son.

Will was 1 year, 8 months when…
It had been been 2 years, 5 months since that summer solstice when…
I was 34 when i had my hysterectomy.

i will never have another menstrual again.
i will never enjoy that cathartic release of blood and tissue and hurt and fear. the woman’s way of cleansing herself. our very physical sense of self-reliance.

my husband does not understand.
you, dear reader, might not understand.
how can i mourn this monthly nuisance?
how can i attach such feelings to a simple bag of muscle?
why do i feel its loss?
how can i “beat myself up” over this?
he sees my sadness and responds with anger.

i am not angry at myself. i hold no blame for this loss.
i allowed myself to feel his anger toward the hospital staff that should have seen something was wrong and helped me sooner. that did not make this go away – it only made it feel worse. i let that anger go, too.
but i do miss my womb.

it’s been 7 months since the surgery.
within days i could tell it had been the right decision. still healing from the new stiches, i could walk, move, sit, stand with more comfort, ease and grace than i had felt since Will had been born.
now, 7 months out – i am exercising off the weight i gained.
and i am finding my way thru the baggage.

i miss my womb, but that will not stop me from living.
i miss the life i had 3 years ago, but i enjoy the life we have now, too.
Will is extraordinary. he is the center of my universe and i love him dearly.
i kiss that head that came out first, those shoulders that got stuck, and i thank God for him.
and in recent weeks, the sadness has been lifting.

maybe i just needed today to come, so i could write this,
and find a new form of release.
i still need to find my way through a few more dark questions:
do i love my husband enough?
how can i love him more?
or should i leave some day?
and how will Will handle that, should it happen?

but for now -
for now, i think i’m gonna set aside my questions and use this solstice for what it has become: my personal day of release. i’m gonna go wash the dishes and do the laundry and take good care of our good little house in the good little suburb of the good little city. and i’m gonna enjoy the feeling of accomplishment it brings.

because today is the summer solstice. the longest day of the year. a perfect day. clear and warm and sunny.

….

August 16, 2008

Written as a private journal piece before this blog began, this stream of consciousness really encapsulates many of the initial struggles i have been facing as i began my life as Mrs. City Momma. do i love my husband enough? i miss my old home town. am i strong enough to be a Momma?

Life has continued to improve since i wrote this piece, but the basic questions and issues still remain.

And i think they always will.