Today we are going to talk about my uterus. There will be much TMI. This is a rare moment on the blog because nothing skeeves me out more than talking about the crap that comes out of or goes into one’s vargeena.
But stuff happened. Stuff that went into my Ute and then stuff that came out. Stuff that made me happy and then stuff that made me sad. Stuff that first resulted in no clean up and then resulted in a big ol’ mess.
Look, I told you there would be TMI. You had your chance to turn back waaaaaay up there in sentence number two. But ooooh nooooo. You saw talk of lady bits and you just HAD to hang around.
This is my uterus.
She is mostly healthy.
She gets a lil cyst on her ovaries once in awhile.
That made it hard to lose weight and made me feel like crap at times. I was told that this could result in fertility issues. But you know, we all have our ‘issues’. I can’t expect my uterus to be on top of her game all the time.
And her cervix has been through some tough times.
But I can’t blame the uterus for having a shitty roommate, can I? That’s not fair.
All in all, she’s had a pretty good run. We work well together. I know when she’s gonna do what she do; and she knows not to mess with that cycle. I show my gratitude by not screwing up her hormones with birth control pills.
We went through a rough patch somewhere between puberty and late 80’s/early 90’s feminine protection (thank god for black stretch pants and Midol). But once we hit the end of those tumultuous years, we were totally on the same page. After all, any partnership must allow for some growing pains.
Many years pass with not much of anything to note. She does her thing, I do mine. Then in 2007, the husband and I decide that we are ready for a baby. The Ute and I reviewed the calendar and acted accordingly. She did all the right things: released an egg, baked the egg, housed the egg – and then my body was all ‘Screw this. I soooo did not agree to any kids. What the hell, Ute?’ and my body promptly started to develop pre-eclampsia. My doctor induced me, broke my water with what can only be described as the Devil’s knitting needle and then, as if none of that was traumatic enough to the poor Ute, then my kid took her first dump before she ever left her temporary lodging.
Oh…the Ute was pissed.
And in true feminine fashion, she showed her annoyance in small, passive aggressive ways. Ways like:
- clinging to parts of the placenta, causing the need for it to be cut out
- gigantic, ninja post-birth clots.
- me: oh yay! postpartum bleeding is over!
ute: psssh bitch please ::12 hours later:: Tsunami-style bloodbath in yo pants, bitch!
- ermahgerd the cramps. Who installed barbed wire in my fallopian tubes?
- calendar? what calendar? Surprise! Here’s your party favor, a tampon that will do you no fucking good.
- oh what nice white sheets you have…go ahead, go to sleep. There won’t be a giant, ass-shaped red stain there in the morning. ::snicker::
- sexy time? how about ‘watch the disappointment wash across your husband’s face’ time?