Tuesday, January 17, 2017

A Mourning & Celebration For My Uterus

I've been resolved and fiercely happy.
Certain in my decision and my need for this operation.
Firmly armed with research, charts of my PMDD symptoms.

I've listened to my body more carefully and intentionally in the last eleven years than ever before. Pregnancy centered me into my body. I've felt more at home in my skin and bones, and the lingering self-consciousness surrounding my claw hand and wing-like arm fell away as I felt the hard work my body did. Each time I held my baby on my hip with a strong, odd arm, I became more myself.


And as a full moon rose and my surgery approached, I found myself unexpectedly sad. This organ housed that little strange creature that became my wonderful girl. My ovaries sent out eggs each month and my blood ran with the moon cycle. The younger witch in me found such strength in this. I made art about this connection.

And though I've settled into a comfortable relationship with atheism and pantheism as simultaneous perceptions of reality, though I am strong in my knowledge that medical science tells me this is the certain and true path for bettering my health, the goddess archetypes are long-since part of me.

And so I cast circle this morning. I thanked my womb and my eggs for their lessons, and I rested my hand over the soft swell of my belly and remembered when that skin was taut with waters enclosing my child. The crows called as the day dawned, and I asked them to carry away this symbol, to help me accept the "death" of these parts of my body.

I found a lovely peace in the rightness of letting go of pieces of my that cause illness.
I found that my mother self lives in the arms that hold my daughter and the breasts that fed her.
I know that rationally my brain is where our connection lives.
I found poetic symmetry that she is approaching puberty as I say farewell (and let's be real, fuck off) to the bleeding time of my life.

I'm grateful, once more, to the medical sciences that have again and again built and rebuilt this body.
When this post goes live, I'll be yanking off my jewelry, scrubbing down with pre-surgical scrub, and going to the same hospital where at nineteen, my divided uterus and vagina were opened so that I could have intercourse and if ever I chose, a child. And that's where my sweet girl was born.


I'll see you on the other side.

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