unexpected losses

When I lost my uterus, I lost something else that I hadn't expected.

When my 16-year old son was born, I nursed him and totally fell in love with it. There was something so indescribably calming, purposeful, and intimate about breastfeeding. I felt part of the circle of life and movement of the earth more than at any other time. When he was 8 months old, he weaned himself because he was bored and wanted to look around at the world. I was so deeply sad, and the only thing that got me through it was the knowledge (I thought) that I would have another child to breastfeed.

When I found out I was pregnant when he was 2, I was ecstatic, in part because I looked forward to the nursing experience again. Well, life doesn't always work out according to our plans. I ended up pregnant with twins and was in preterm labor at 20 weeks. I spent 3 1/2 months on bedrest and completely used up all my leave from work. (And I carried our health insurance.) I had to return to work when the twins were 9 weeks old. Everything is different with twins. Things you would never do with a single child (prop a bottle, for instance) become life-savers when there are two. I knew that if I didn't figure out a way to get some sleep every night, there was no way I would be able to function. Plus, we couldn't afford for me to get the new wardrobe that would be necessary to accommodate breasts that were providing the complete sustenance for two babies. I made the very difficult decision to bottle feed. Although I didn't feel guilty for the twins' sake, I very much grieved the loss of this beloved and anticipated experience for myself.

Two years ago, I had an endometrial ablation. We were done having children (my husband had a vasectomy years ago), so I wasn't concerned about the loss of my fertility. I realized that not only was it very unlikely that I could ever get pregnant, if I did it would be likely to kill me as the placenta would bond with my organs and I might well bleed to death at delivery. I was surprised at how often that first year I felt so sad at the reality of never having another child. Having worked through that then made the fertility aspect of the hysterectomy pretty much a non-issue. I had already dealt with the reality of no longer having babies.

So imagine my surprise several days ago when a lot of my friends on Facebook posted pictures of themselves breastfeeding their children, in protest of Faceboook's policy to delete photographs that show nipples, including breastfeeding pictures. Although I had dealt with the loss of fertility, I had completely forgotten about the fact that I would never breastfeed again. It just hit me very hard that I would never again have that experience. In the past, when I used to think about breastfeeding or wanting more children, I would feel my womb ache and cramp just for an instant. This time, I could feel abdominal tensing and then--nothing.


It had never occurred to me that in addition to its role in reproduction and hormones and holding everything in place, my uterus was a physical site of some of my emotions. I have lost a physical component of my emotional response, and now I don't know how to go about feeling my feelings anymore. I had no idea I would experience this loss.


By now, the emotions have faded from an instant of deep and intense grief to loss to weirdness. But this was an experience I was not at all prepared for. I felt very, very empty.