October 22nd-28th; Days 139-145

Dear Urine Receptacle,

AHah! Did you notice what I did there?

I'm thinking that your  feeling unloved as the last 5 years of my life has been very uterine-centric. So this one is for you Bladder-face.

Please stop being a jerk.

In all seriousness-- later today is 2 weeks since the surgery. I was able to stop taking my heavy pain killers about a week after surgery. I was moving and sitting a lot better. In the past 3 or 4 days however, I'm hurting a lot. I'm guessing it's because it's all starting to heal, and maybe the internal stitches are breaking down a bit.

I took my catheter out (did I mention that last time) on the morning of the 19th. The next day I had my stitches out.

The next day I called the doctor back because my wonderful little "problem" was still there. They said not to be discouraged yet because I'm still healing. So I'm trying to think positive, but I can't help but thinking that every day it should get a little bit better if it's just because the bladder is healing, right?

I really wanted this all to be behind me so I can feel like I'm coming up on the more positive side of this entire thing, and it hasn't yet.

Help me out of this hole!

-Michelle

October 14th-21st; Days 131-138

Dear Uterus.

Yeah I know it's been awhile.

I had my surgery on the 14th, and as usual I managed to go screw it up.

My 2 hour surgery ended up being a 4 hour one. My outpatient procedure ended up being a 48 hour stay.

I love hospitals... so, so, much.

I researched the heck out of my c-sections. I talked to people who'd had them. I was prepared for the aftermath, and I understood the procedure as well as a non-doctor can.

This one-- there isn't a lot of people openly talking about bladder prolapses and randomly leaking urine. No one told me where the best place to buy depends was or what to expect when I woke up from surgery. I researched a bit, and understood some of the stuff, but even after the doctor talked to me I was completely clueless with what was really going to happen.

They went to do a cystocele (anterior) prolapse repair. This is, to my understanding, where they reposition the bladder up ansd away from the vaginal wall, where mine had falled into. Along with it, they put in a urethral sling, a small tension sling that holds the urethra up.

This is, on average, a two hour surgery. After the anterior prolapse was repaired they discovered I also had a significant rectocele (posterior) prolapse. So they fixed this as well. This, and the fact that I decided to bleed lots again, made it into the 4 hour surgery.

Before I went in, I was sitting in the sort of waiting area for non-emergent operations. I was in my own cubicle, but not on a bed, just a recliner with a tv and naked under a hospital gown. The nurse came in to talk to me and I we spoke about the anesthesia a little bit, the process, and etc. The one thing that had been terrifying me was the idea of going under again, I mentioned that to her-- even going as far as to ask if I could have a spinal instead. She told me she would talk to the anesthesiologist. A little while later, he came in, and he looked vaguely familiar, although I couldn't really place it.

He started asking me about my concerns and as I was telling him he stopped me and said "Now, when did this happen..?" I told him June. He said-- "You were the surrogate weren't you?" "Yes...?" "I was you anesthesiologist that day."

While the procedure was being done at a different hospital, he also worked with this one as well, and he remembered me.  We sat and chatted a little while. He told me his side of things, including a pirce of the puzzle I didn't find out. Apparently, he was struggling to keep me under as he normally would, whenever he would try, I would code-- so he had to use different methods. I'm not sure what they were and I didn't ask-- I was trying to process the fact that I had apparently come even closer to death than I thought-- I coded-- more than once.

HE said it sounded like I had a little PTSD after everything and told me he would make sure I had an anti-anxiety med before the anesthesia. That calmed me down a bit.

A little later he walked me down to the OR. I walked in, and climbed on the operating table myself. I laid back, and for a few seconds I was back in June, terrified and begging them  not to let me die. Then they talked to me. I can't remember what it was about but it was enough to get my mind off of everything as he put whatever juice into the IV that made me pretty much okay with everything. They told me they were starting the anesthesia and I breathed in and out slowly-- waiting for the moment where I couldn't breathe on my own and could feel my chest almost being paralyzed-- and it didn't come.

I woke up later that evening (the surgery started around 3ish) and was pretty out of it the rest of the night. I was in and out of consciousness, part from my awesome inability to wake up from anesthesia like a normal person, and partly because I was low on blood and for some reason had really low blood pressure.

The pain SUCKED. It reminded me of when I tore while delivering my son. Laying in bed hurt-- and the first time I tried to stand up I almost fell over from the pain. The next time I stood up I manged to walk into the bathroom and promptly passed out on the toilet.

I went home 2 days later with a catheter that I both got to keep in for 5 days, and also take out myself. Fun stuff.

After I took out the catheter I was super excited to be able to wear underwear again, and not a depends--- and then I started leaking. The verdict is currently out on whether it failed or if I just need some time to let my bladder settle a bit-- it has been through a lot in the past few months. The leaking isn't as bad as before, but it's still pretty bum-worthy.

Yesterday I had the abdominal sutures removed from where they had the scope placed. That was pretty easy.

Now I'm on pelvic rest and light duty for 6 weeks while I heal and the stitches dissolve. This cannot come fast enough because holy COW do they itch!!

Now that I'm not constantly on pain meds I can start writing again-- what with I can now form paragraphs and... well... words.

Talk to you tomorrow,

-Michelle

October 9th-13th; Days 126-130

Dear Uterus,

Surgery is tomorrow.

I'm scared.

I'm trying not to feel defeated or negative, but I also want to be prepared.

Tonight I filled out my Advance Health Care Directive.

This appointed an Agent, an an alternative agent, to make medical choices for me should I not be able to do so.

Logically I know that this a simple-ish procedure. Yet I find myself almost sick at the thought of going under tomorrow. The c-section was a simple procedure... the d&c was supposed to be simple.. and then it wasn't.

I'm not sure if I ever shared a part of the story. The "why" to the intubation.

My body had experienced a trauma and was still experiencing it with the DIC. The doctors made the choice to keep me sedated. While sedated I stopped breathing-- my body tried to die-- so they intubated me, and for 12 hours the only reason I was alive was because of a machine.

I never wanted to be on life support for an extended amount of time, but I never considered what my time frame would be. I clearly needed those 12 hours, and I'm alive today because of it-- but do I want 24? 7 days? A Month? Where is that line when I say "let me go"?

Today is my son's birthday. He's 4. 4 years ago this morning I delivered my first pregnancy and I never would have imagined this is where I would be 4 years later.

I ahd friends here this weekend, and it helped ease my nerves, but now as I sit in the dark of night and write this, I feel them creeping up.

I feel like I should say bye, just in case, and that's something no one should have to feel.

-Michelle

Oct.7th-8th; Days 124&125

Dear Uterus, 

Today has been a hard today. Probably the hardest that I've had in awhile. 

When I joined the surrogate community almost 4 years ago (holy crap!) people didn't really talk about the bad stuff within the community. I think because it felt as if we were fighting the media. Every tv show we watched, every surrogacy-relateed news article that aired-- it all seemed negative. So, in some way as an act of balance, we only shared the good. It was a lot of good.

As a person entering that world I loved seeing the stories of hope and family and love. It was beautiful to the point of tears. I couldn't wait to have a story like that of my own. Now, almost 4 years later, I have two stories like that. 

When I almost lost my life in June, I suddenly saw a different side. This side wasn't what the media portrayed it-- I wasn't a crazy woman trying to keep a baby. The parents hadn't left me with a child that wasn't mine. Instead, I was faced with the reality that a choice I made could be the end of me.

When a woman chooses to become pregnant, she makes the choice to bring a child into the world. She accepts the risks. She knows that the outcome in worth it-- a baby in her arms at the end of nine (let's face it, ten) months.

When a woman decides to become a surrogate, she makes the choice to bring someone Else's child into the world. She makes the choice to complete, or grow another person's family. I made that choice. I can name more than twenty women who I consider my friend that have also made that choice. I could point you in the direction of thousands of others.

At some point, in the last year or so, a woman made the choice to be a surrogate (again). She ended up carrying twins. Today, on what should have been an exciting day, she died of complications related to pregnancy.

I didn't know her. You probably didn't know her. Someone did. A lot of people did. She left a family, children... people that were counting on her.

Today was a hard day. My heart aches for her family in a way I don't think it would have before this. I would have been sad, I would have thought about her, and then I would have continued on my day. Now it's different. I can't look at death the same way. Four months ago it was my family that was worried, my friends that were messaging like I assume hers were. By some crazy stroke of luck, I survived when even the doctors didn't think I would... and she didn't-- and that sucks. 

-Michelle

Oct. 4th-6th; Days 121-123

Dear Uterus,

College started for me yesterday. I keep myself as busy as possible. I don't think it was intentional initially, but now I think it has helped a lot. When I am constantly doing something I can go days without really thinking about it all. Progress.

In one week I have surgery. Something I still have mixed feelings about. I feel like I am constantly reminded of everything every time I have to deal with this issue. For months I have told myself that once this issue is fixed I can move out of this pit I have been in. Yet part of me is worried that even when I am fixed, I will still feel like I am in this...slump.

I haven't gained any more weight, but I haven't lost any more either. I just can't exercise so I am stuck. I have another 7weeks before I can really try to lose weight again, so my weight loss journey is on hold..ish.

How are you?

-Michelle

Oct 1st-3rd; Days 118-120

Dear Uterus,

I try to "cross that bridge when I come to it", in regards to most things.

After the hysterectomy, one of the first things everyone tried to comfort me with was "Well, you got to keep your ovaries!"

It was a small win, but a win none-the-less.

If I wanted another biological child I could have one, just not carry him/her.

Today a topic came up in an Accreta support group that I'm a part of. Recent studies show as many as 50% of women that have a hysterectomy and keep their ovaries experience ovarian failure around 5 years later.

FIVE YEARS.

50% isn't 100%, but it's not 0% either.

A lot of the girls started chiming in, and so far it seems like a lot more than 50%. A lot of them lost their ovarian function between 3-5 years post hysterectomy, some just a few months later!

I don't want to borrow trouble, but I can't help but look at my amazing record for percentages.

Yet another thing/choice that might be taken from me too soon.

I don't know if I'll use a surrogate. If I do it's at LEAST two and a half years away. At least.

If I choose to adopt, to not have another bio child, that's fine. I made that choice.

When I am a 30 year old on hormone therapy and experiencing hot flashes.... I didn't make that choice.

-Michelle

Sept. 29th-30th; Days 116&117

Dear Uterus,

What I'm about to say it going to sound to weird, but bear with me.

I think everyone should have a near death experience at least once when they are young-ish.

I don't want anyone to actually die. and I don't wish that pain on any family, but.. I kind of think everyone needs one.

I feel like I aged after all of that. Some of it not all good, but a lot of it feels amazing. Let's talk about the amazing today, maybe tomorrow we'll chat about the not-so-good.

For most of my life people have told me that I act older than my age. I had older friends, dated older guys, had a more 'adult' look on life even when I was in high-school. That's not to say I didn't still need some growing up to do. I had to have some heartbreaks, I had to have some life-struggles, but I came out better for them.

People have always been kind of surprised by my age. Especially the people who haven't seen me in person-- although most of them have seen pics so... I guess my wrinkles are showing early. I tell them I'm 25 and everyone is like.. holy crap... you seem to much older, so much more put together than I was at 25.

I don't necessarily agree all the time, but I'll take it.

After everything had settled down, I realized it drastically changed how I acted, how I looked at things, and how I want things to be in the future.

People always say "life is short". You understand what they mean, but you don't REALLY get it. Then in one hour you almost bleed to death, in one day you go from grocery shopping to being on life support, in one week you go from sitting on your couch to laying in an ICU bed.

Life is short. I get that now. I'm both in-love with the knowledge, and terrified of it.

Think about it. On Friday morning I got up- I was sore from the c-section, complaining about my aching uterus.. I ate lunch, pumped some breast-milk, went to the store for some groceries, and 19 hours after I woke up I was in the ER. 24 hours after??? I was on a ventilator and my husband didn't know if I was going to wake up.

Twenty four hours. What will you be doing in 24 hours?

When I say things have changed for me... it's encompasses so many things.

I worry less-- who needs that stress?

I hug my son more--probably too much-- pretty sure I’ll have a mental breakdown on his first day of school.

I’m more patient. The son is screaming, the car in front of me is driving slow… who cares? That one irritating moment is a blip on my timeline.

I wanted to graduate, buy a cute house in a great neighborhood and send my son to a private school with the best teachers. Now I think we should spend his younger years traveling to different counties, learning as we go.He might be homeschooled through elementary but he’ll be exposed to so many cultures…

Do you see my point? See where I’m going?

Life becomes routine for us. We wake up, we fix the kids breakfast, we go to work, they go to school, rinse, repeat.

So your clothes aren’t hanging up? You got them washed.

Your bed isn’t made? You’re going to sleep in it again anyway.

Take a moment, embrace it. Make it the best, because in 24 hours you might be dead.

-Michelle