At the age of 14, I received my first unexpected message. My mother had spent years preparing me for this moment, explaining the reasons and the events that would follow. “But seriously, why?” I thought, as I stood in a bowling alley bathroom stall, panicking when the message came through.
Uterus: Hey, what’s going on?
Me: Who is this?
My mother wept when I shared this news. She gently brushed my cheek and enveloped me in a hug, while I merely shrugged, feeling more self-conscious in my skin than ever. In the months that followed, I learned to accept that these messages were a regular occurrence in my life, though the awkwardness never seemed to fade. I had inherited a uterus that could rival the intensity of Niagara Falls, unpredictable as ever.
Uterus: Wassssupppp?!
Me: You again? Already?!
Just when I thought I understood her rhythm, she would surprise me.
Uterus: 3…
Me: Huh?
Uterus: 2…
Me: Wait!
Uterus: 1…
Uterus: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
Me: This is not the surprise party I envisioned.
She was never one to take accountability for her antics.
Uterus: Woops, my bad.
Me: In the library… on cloth seats… are you serious?!
Uterus: It’s been 4 hours since our last bathroom break. Are YOU kidding ME?!
Like any evolving relationship, we eventually reached a point where we could express ourselves with a certain level of sass, a familiarity that goes beyond mere biology.
Me: Did you ever get the Advil I sent? It should have arrived hours ago.
Uterus: I saw it, but I’m not really feeling it. Let’s grab some Aleve and binge-watch Titanic.
Uterus: What’s the plan for tonight?
Me: Going out for dinner with friends.
Uterus: OMG, we should totally order dessert.
Me: No, I’m trying to be mindful of what I eat.
Uterus: Right, so two desserts plus 90% of the chips and salsa.
One day, while curled up on the couch binge-watching episodes of A Baby Story, I had a profound realization about my uterus (which is a thing, trust me). I reflected on that first message in the bathroom stall and all the inconvenient ones that followed. I thought about the countless pairs of underwear lost to leaks and the frantic searches for a restroom. I recalled the cramps, fatigue, and all the symptoms that Midol commercials love to list during Wheel of Fortune (like we need reminding). I remembered the conversations I had, praying for days when I could check my pockets and find nothing but dry denim.
For 14 years, my uterus had been silently waiting, almost like Rip Van Winkle through my childhood, only to make a dramatic entrance during my teenage years. I had resented her for it.
But as I watched new mothers tearfully hold their slimy newborns, I realized that while my uterus could be moody, it also possessed the potential for greatness. With that thought, I raised my glass of green tea and a piece of Hershey’s dark chocolate, toasting to the day when I would receive the most extraordinary message she could deliver.
Uterus: Baby on board.
This article was originally published on April 13, 2016. If you want to discover more about home insemination, check out this post for further insights. For authoritative information, visit Make a Mom about artificial insemination kits. Additionally, Women’s Health is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
This article shares a humorous and relatable journey through the challenges of having a uterus, highlighting the awkward and surprising moments that come with it. It emphasizes the resilience and power of the uterus while also acknowledging the discomfort that often accompanies it. By reflecting on her experiences, the author ultimately embraces the potential of her uterus and looks forward to the future.