It’s taken me over a year to make another blog post. Even now, I am still sad about talking about this last step. Warning: this talks about my hysterectomy. If you don’t wanna hear about it, don’t read this. You have been warned.

So a little over a year ago, the doctors told us we had exhausted all our options. Years of fertility. YEARS. Injections. Pregnancy tests. Ultrasounds. YEARS. Excessive weight gain. More injections. Hospital stays. Nothing. No baby. More pee tests than I can count. More pregnancy tests than I can count. IVs. More ultrasounds. More doctors visits.

December 7th. I had a hysterectomy. I was nervous but I went in with spunk and severe determination. My shirt even read- Comfy as Fuck. I needed every ounce of strength, sass, and humor to get me through. Chris and I cuddled, hugged and cry it out one last time. Then I went back to prepare. Alone. I had to sign a paper agreeing that I wouldn’t be able to have kids from this point forward. Alone. I had to agree to give up the right to have children. WHOA. I was NOT prepared. Panic set in. This was really happening. After trying SO hard and trying NEVER to give up. My body had given up on me. Worse part. I was alone. Chris wasn’t allowed in pre-op. Not until they gave me my drugs. So Chris’ last sight of me, I was high. And it wasn’t on life.

I go into surgery. I come out with numerous diagnosis’ and was told there was no way a baby could have survived in my uterus. I found out that I had endometriosis, adenomyosis, long Fallopian tubes, and menorrhagia. Basically I was a hot mess. I was told that a “regular” uterus is like a hard apple. Mine was mushy. Great. They also had to make more incisions than usual.

I came out on oxygen and looking like a super model. Believe me. I looked amazing. I also looked like a stab victim with all my “extra” incisions. If you could have only seen me then. It was a good day for me.

How do you deal with news like this? You ask the nurses for extra pain meds, muster up a little courage and strength and have Lucy Day come in bed to cuddle to have popsicles. Really, the best medicine. Literally and figuratively. After popsicles, a couple extra cuddles, I fell asleep in a fuzzy world drug coma. Next best medicine: cuddles with my hubby. Because even if we can’t have children, which we talk about and try to process on a daily basis, we have each other. And for some reason, still puzzling to us on a daily basis… our sweet Lucy Day survived. I don’t think we could have PICKED a better child. Somehow Lucy survived and we were given the amazing opportunity to be HER parents. For that alone, we are so grateful every day. Our ability to bear our own children is no longer an option or possibility, but we have Lucy.

And now we are grateful for the so far NINE children that we have had through our home during our foster care journey. More on that journey to come.