Hysterectomy

Today I am celebrating my last day with my uterus. I am having her removed tomorrow & couldn't be more thrilled! I felt like, since our history together has been so long that I owe her a proper farewell. Here is the speech I have typed out to share at the Kotex bonfire I had planned to have before my surgery, but time has not allowed for such a get together:

Dear Uterus,
Where do I begin? We have been together for so long. I remember in the 6th grade my teachers made me watch a video about the role you would soon play in my body. Wow, that film did not adequately represent the roller coaster relationship that we would come to share. We officially met in November of the following school year in the ladies' room on the 7th grade campus. I remember I was suppose to walk to gymnastics after school that day. I was so distraught. I rode the bus home instead and was greeted by my mother & brother who were visiting in the kitchen. I remember mom asking, "Why aren't you at gymnastics?" MOTHER! How could you ask me that in front of my BROTHER! How embarrassing! I felt like you had put a stamp on my forehead announcing to the world that I had entered womanhood. I jerked her into the next room to explain that I had met you and chastised her for nearly forcing me to make the announcement in front of my brother. How dare her! And so the drama & mood swings began...(however, if you asked her, she would probably say they had been ongoing for quite some time at that point). I had entered into a sisterhood with my 2 closest friends. You introduced yourself to us within a few months of each other. We came up with the code name, "giggles", for you so we wouldn't have to mention the word "period" in front of anyone else. "Oh, I've got the giggles", we would say & then just laugh. And so the roller coaster began. Every month you greeted me with bloating, mood swings, and indescribable cramps. I was gauranteed to miss at least a day of school each month due to the agony of your little visits. I can thank you for introducing me to my other family of friends, narcotics. We go way back. Your visits became so intense that I was forced to meet with my first OB/GYN. Oh, the memories! I remember my dear friend, Lou Ann consoling me. She said, "Try not to be nervous. Just lay back on the table & count the ceiling tiles to keep yourself distracted from the exam." Ceiling tiles? Someone forgot to tell Dr. Terri Elkins that ceiling tiles should've been included in her building plans. No ceiling tiles! What was I suppose to do now? Ahhh! Floral wall paper border. I remember counting the petals on the flowers as I was being violated on that table at age 17. She put me on my first birth control pills so I could control your visits better. You were really bad about misbehaving and lingering longer than you were welcome & these pills really helped shorten your stay & keep you in line. Several years later I married Jason. I couldn't wait to try out your next function, baby basket! I would beg, "Can I have a baby yet? Huh? Huh? Can I?" 5 years later, off the pills I went. 2 months after that I found out you were holding our first child. Ahh. Maybe now I could forgive you for all the torture you had caused me through the years. It was so nice of you to give me that nice 9 month break from your visits while you held Daniel for me. 2 1/2 years later, you were so sweet to, once again, carry a son-Andrew for me. Six months after his birth we found out that you were holding another surprise angel for us. After that 3 month journey, it was determined that you would be relieved of your duty as Jesus saw fit to keep that sweet little one. Thank you for holding "Sam" for me when I couldn't. God graciously blessed us 2 months later with the pregnancy of our first daughter, Victoria. Man, I am really loving your ability to hold babies, huh?! In fact, you surprised us 3 years after her with another precious girl, Ashley. You've been such a great baby basket, but enough already! My quiver is full. I no longer have a desire to visit with you month after month. You have really begun to wear out your welcome. While I appreciate all of your service to me, it is time for us to part ways. The Kotex corporation will have to depend on someone else to fill their pockets from now on. Uterus- the ride stops here. It is with much joy that I bid you farewell. Good bye old...friend?
-Courtney