An Open Letter to my Uterus

Hello, Uterus.

If you were present on the outside of my body, you would see I’m giving you the infamous Costanza-Newman stare. What’s that, you ask? Who’s Costanza?

Well, that’s problem number one.

So, Uterus. Do you mind if I call you Utey? Or Ute? Or simply U? Because every time I type Uterus it feels like I’m typing a combination of Jupiter and Uranus and I have the irrepressible urge to hit spell check and frankly, I’m not getting any writing done. Let’s settle on U, shall we? ‘Kay? Thanks.

So U. We’ve been through a lot. Puberty. The utter humiliation of that first doctor’s visit, the one who looked uncannily like Joey Buttafuoco. The college years, many of which, I’ll admit, I do not remember. While we’re on the subject, I should add how much I appreciate your patience with the ills I’ve done my body. Because (see above). If you could pass that on to the liver, I’d be much obliged.

Oh sure, we’ve been at cross-purposes before. I’m not sure in which former life I pissed you off, but I’m certain whatever I did was of Dante-esque proportion, based on your behavior the first three days of my every period. Narcotics have no power over you. And while we’re being honest, let me admit: I might hate you for it, but I admire you, too. You remind me that whatever I may sometimes think, my husband could not bear you. It takes a woman to do a woman’s job.

While we’re on the topic of things I appreciate about you, let’s talk about all the jackasses who assumed we would fail out of engineering, solely based on your existence, and then, when that didn’t happen, fail as an engineer. Did you also think it was funny, once they realized we were smarter and more successful than they were, how they wanted to get up close and personal with both of us? If we had a superhero name, we would be the JackAssKickers. Also, we would have leopard print capes and three inch heels.

Are you getting that I’m trying to butter you up? Little gets past you, U. Let’s talk about your more recent accomplishments, like the nurturing of my small person. While your unwillingness to give him up was disconcerting, at best – was three hours of pushing really necessary? – I can’t say I don’t understand. I mean, you were totally right. He is awesome.

But you know what, U? We need to talk. Because you and I once again find ourselves at odds. I get that you’re not solely responsible for my distress. There are ovaries, and fallopian tubes, and, hell, somebody else’s reproductive organs involved, too. But you’re sort of the boss down there. So:

You may have noticed I’m trying to get knocked up. Sure, I know you’re busy shedding and rebuilding and all that miracle of life crap. But for real, yo: mama’s working here. I mean, I wore heels three times last month. And perhaps you remember from such episodes as Ten Months of Nurturing a Fetus and Three Hours of Insane Pushing, I have a toddler. It’s not like I have a lot of, you know, bandwidth. So I get it. If it’s not the right time to have a baby, no problem. But would you mind doing me a solid? If, in fact, you aren’t going to get all warm and nurture-y and fourteen-thousand times your size, could you please try to be, oh, I don’t know… timely about it? I’ve mentioned that 48 hours is late for us. So five days late? Five days late means I’m researching the accuracy of First Response pregnancy tests. Five days late means I’m facing uncontrollable PMS and the urge to eat everything chocolate, fried or served with ranch (and sometimes all three together) in sight, and yet somehow still wondering if these are signs of pregnancy and let’s be honest, U, none of that is particularly good for our mental health, our marriage or the safety of those around us.

You see, U, I can take the cramping. I can face the humiliation of a freezing doctor’s office and gowns that gape in the back. I can handle the demeaning comments about my ability to drive or resolve complex mathematical equations or drill a hole five miles into the ground. But the monthly betrayal of not doing exactly what I want you to, when I want you to, how I want you to? Followed by jacking up my hopes just this much and then crushing them? That’s getting harder to accept. And doing it while I’m without alcohol? Well, now you’re just plain being bitchy.

So let’s stick with timely, shall we? ‘Kay?

Thanks, love. Smooches and all -S

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80 thoughts on “An Open Letter to my Uterus

  1. Oh, I just want to give you a big hug. This was wonderful and sweet and funny and packed full of the emotional roller coaster you are obviously on. I have no advice here other than patience. At least for a little while. But if you have to do something, You COULD pretend that you are 17, crawl into the back of your dad’s Honda, and go for it—that seems to really do the trick for lots of people. Under the bleachers is also a big winner.

    I love your Utey and I know she won’t let you down. “It takes a woman to do a woman’s job”, your husband COULD NOT take it, and sometimes the universe works just the way it’s supposed to which in this case would be to give another sweet kid to you to raise. Best of luck, Erin

    • i’m so glad you were the first one to respond on here because i’ve had a lot of doubts about this post – do i sound totally selfish? completely bitchy? my life isn’t that hard, so the i end up bitching about my period being a few days late? but it does really, really get to me. so it’s so nice to remember to have faith in “the plan”- i know it’s going to happen, i just sometimes have very, very little patience.

      also, that bleachers thing – i’ll let you know if it works. minus the details, of course (unless we’re drinking. and then, no promises).

  2. I like this. I’m in the process of thanking my uterus for continuing to comply with my “no bleeding” policy even though it has been 14 months since my baby was born. Perhaps I should thank my breasts too while I’m at it since I have a feeling their continued employment has encouraged my uterus to comply with said policy.

    • oh, how i miss that no bleeding policy. although not so much the boob employment. i enjoyed it for a year and have since been quite pleased to have them all back to myself. what i do wish for, however, is for the breastfeeding diet to kick back in -that extra 500 calories a day was AWESOME. thanks for visiting!

  3. Big hugs. And I have a very similar stare at mine every month after 3 years of trying for our first. especially when it decides it’s fun to play FAKE OUT and start late, or begin spotting and then go away. “HELLO U…..” But anyway, best of luck to you ❤

  4. Thank you for confirming my belief that everything in life can be related to Seinfeld. Sorry your uterus is being such a bitch. She needs to get her shit together and get working for you!

    • oh yes. the costanza-newman stare gets a great deal of use in my house (which also says a fair amount about my marriage). as for U, I’m totally berating her into submission!!

  5. Hahahahahahaha! I love it. My uterus is a bitch too and every time I think I have her beaten into submission, she comes back with a vengence. She’s not the boss, I tell her that all the time but she just doesn’t listen. Gah.

    • um, for real. what’s up with our internal organs NOT KNOWING WHO THE BOSS IS? clearly i need to pour more tequila down there until they get the damn picture.

  6. You are awesome. And so is your uterus even if she isn’t holding up her end of the deal right now. All the best to you and this uterus! Truly. I’m hoping and crossing everything. 🙂

    • thanks and i know this must seem a little like a retread but it seems to occupy more and more of my thoughts! when it does happen i am certain it will be fully attributable to all that crossing!

    • thanks… i sure hope they work soon! for some reason when i try to comment on your blog, disqus blows up on me – do you know if anyone else is having this problem?

      • Oh that’s what I love to hear. People occasionally say they have trouble commenting but are never specific about why and I haven’t been able to figure it out. You get credit for trying!

  7. This was simply perfect. Erin said it all, funny and honest. And maybe a good romp in the back of a Honda will do the trick – you never know. I got pregnant the one month we WEREN’T trying. I don’t even remember having sex- we were either fighting or sick or both. But, someone it happens. Hand in there! Sending you a big virtual hug!

  8. I love this post! Who hasn’t been there – salted chocolate bar being dipped in ranch with one hand, the other hand clicking around on the internet trying to FORCE it to tell us whether wating salted ranchy chocolate is more likely to be a symptom of PMS or pregnancy? I think that’s the cruelest joke – that for some reason the symptoms have to be IDENTICAL. Really? I’m 10 days late, and last night I was trying to make Google decide what the odds are that it’s breastfeeding that’s messing me up this month, or something else. The internet laughed at me for having to type “pregnancy” into a search engine while I’m still nursing the last one. Good luck – here’s hoping our Us fall in line!

    • right? and i am SICK of the internet laughing at me. because whether or not google realizes it i am certain that eating dark chocolate with sea salt and fried mushrooms in ranch ARE a sign of pregnancy. which may or may not help your situation… wishing you the best, whichever way it falls!

  9. So sorry that the U isn’t cooperating (and I can totally empathize with that whole first 3 days being miserable each month feeling). Hope that this talk with the U helps and good luck! 🙂

  10. Why is it when growing up everyone makes us think we will get pregnant just by sitting in the backseat of a car with a boy. Yet, it never seems that easy. U is so tempermental!

  11. Sweet post. I watched my sister go through this. She would have written very similar things as you have. I think Erin offers the best advice. Or some other as yet unthought of place to plant that seed, someplace fun! That’ll do it! I wish you the best!

    • you’re all giving me some excellent, creative ideas that i’m fairly certain my husband is going to LOVE. or hate. not sure which one. hmmmm. thanks so much!

  12. My Uterus was very uncooperative once upon a time. After years of fertility treatments and surgery I got the firstborn. Then it decided to show me who’s boss, and after throwing caution to the wind a couple of times, the Dude got himself two brothers.

    I decided to fake U out, and Mr. Wonderful got a vasectomy. Then I no longer had to concern myself with U’s persnickety nature. But as menopause approaches, I’m sure I’ll be reminded soon.

    • oh, congratulations on three fabulous boys! and oh how i long to no longer having to argue with U about… well, anything. i’m sure i’ll change my mind about 3,000 times between now and then, but hey. a girl can dream.

  13. Oh, I so remember those days…wanting it so much, and then being a few days late, getting your hopes up, only to realize it was PMS and not pregnancy symptoms. I get it. Here’s to hoping U starts cooperating and takes up a tenant…REALLY SOON!!!

    • ha, oh just wait. i actually have an even better idea from (can you believe it?) mu husband, who would like me to write an ode to his, ahem, man parts. it’s ON in my house.

  14. This is hilarious. (And I’ve been there…or rather, I AM there, trying for #3 with a particularly late U, too.)

    • oh, you so brought a smile to my face (apparently i’m a thirteen year old boy who laughs at the phrase “doing it.” and yet, i’m still laughing.). also, i LOVE the “I’ plural so i am all for uteri. we’ll keep fighting the good fight!

  15. You could try reverse psychology. Remember when you gave up dating because everyone was an idiot and then BOOM there was the right person? Tell Missy U that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER could you possibly get pregnant now, that it would be awful and terrible and a huge mistake. Just a thought. When I was trying to get pregnant w/#2 (and I was teetering on the brink of 40 at the time, so be reassured), a friend told me about this “Take Charge of your fertility” book, to which I said there is no way I’m putting a thermometer in my yaya every day to take its temperature. My friend said, very slowly and patiently, as if talking to a rabid dog, “no dear, you take your temperature in your MOUTH.” Oh. And then eventually I was pregnant.

  16. With both of my pregnancies, I SWORE I was about to start my period with the cramping and the bitchiness. Nope! Pregnant! Hope the old uterus doesn’t let you down. 🙂

    • that was definitely the way it happened with dane – i literally had to leave the house one morning because i couldn’t even look at my husband, and as i was driving away i realized i was super, super late. ah-ha! so now i just have to figure out the difference between my own garden-variety bitchiness and pregnancy bitchiness!

  17. Baha! This? Was awesome. Good luck with all that. In my experience, uteri have selective hearing and do whatever the hell they want. Maybe yours will surprise you. Keeping my fallopian tubes crossed.

  18. This? Is all sorts of cool! U really should listen to you. Or, I also like Deborah’s idea of reverse psychology. That’ll be your next post, right? Great job!

  19. When I started reading this, I thought “damn, I’m not going to be able to relate to this blog post about lady-parts.

    But I can!

    My sister tried for two years. She tried and tried (with the help of my brother-in-law) of course, but with no luck. But it finally happened, and just two weeks ago my niece was born.

    So keep trying! And keep the good-spirits up with your writing because it is awesome. And such awesomeness gets votes from me 🙂

    • congratulations on your niece! i have a couple of those and i’m pretty over the moon about them. and i’m so glad you didn’t give up on me because of the, ahem, ladypart discussion. glad you enjoyed it!

  20. The most uncomfortable feeling in the world is when I realize I have no control. None. And even with all that is available due to scientific and medical advancements, let’s just call them “hope raisers,” still, no control. Great concept for a post. Love it.

    • yes, that is exactly how i feel. not having control over something as elemental as my body is so, so frustrating… i’m sure there’s a point here somewhere about how this is a sign i should try to let go a little, but really i’m not there yet. here’s hoping it happens soon, though!

  21. As someone who struggled with infertility a few times, I can completely relate! My letter would have been to my ovaries. Don’t they know “we” are overachievers, not slackers?! A late period when you’re trying for a baby is just wrong. Hopefully she’ll get with the program soon. 🙂

    • that’s exactly the message i keep trying to send her – no slacking down there, lady! somehow, she keeps ignoring me. hmmm, message there? 🙂 thanks for the good wishes!

  22. brilliant. utter genuis. can’t stop the laughter. but I can also relate. after getting pregnant with our first in the very first month of trying….it took just over a year to get pregnant the 2nd time. “U”s are tricksters that’s for sure. And the worst part? I had to admit to my MIL that what probably did the trick was her advice to keep my legs in the air for 10 minutes afterward. awkward.
    or, it was the 6 apple martini’s FIL forced down my throat (sort of) to help me relax.
    let’s call it a team effort.

  23. Pingback: There’s Something About Harvey | SmushyFace, Baby

  24. Got here from your recent post about your husbands manparts. I hope your Uterus listened to you and is going to allow another baby to grow! Wishing lots of baby dust your way!!

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