When You Realize You've Become 'That Mom'...and What Comes Next

25

The world spins out of control. Out of control and beyond repair. Why do I feel so lost?

In 2012, I had finally discovered all of the reasons for my pain. What they thought had simply been Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID) had developed into so much more.

"We found the tumor and removed it. That's the good news." Dr. SaveMyLife said to me with a smile on his face. 

I hadn't even realized that a tumor had been on the table. For years, they led me to believe that my problems were so much smaller. I'm holding back tears as I wait with baited breathe for him to continue.

"As I mentioned during the procedure, it was a mess in there,"

"What does this mean Dr. SaveMyLife?" I asked with a tremor in my voice.

"Well..." his voice fades away as though he is looking for a way to share the news without causing me to crumble in his office. "You have two choices."

"Two choices?" I asked, afraid of what he was going to say next yet needing so desperately to hear his reply.

"You see, your reproductive system was in shambles. Your uterus was oversized, blood has been leaking out into your other organs. It never shrunk after your last delivery. There is scar tissue everywhere. You have several smaller tumors that I wasn't able to get out. Your tubes are filled with fluid, you have multiple cysts that we couldn't even see on the images and your cervix has abnormal cell growth on them. It is possible, that is the result of precancerous cells. Has anyone ever told you this before?" he asked, waiting expectantly for my reply.

"Not about the other stuff but about the cells. They've cut them out several times." I said unsteadily.

"I see...that makes sense. You are young. It was a good strategy. Now, you have two choices. You can remain as you are, and you will always be in pain. The likelihood of you having any more children is incredibly low but you will remain intact...in pain, but intact. The other option would be to have a hysterectomy,"

"What would that mean?"

"It would mean that you would go into rapid menopause, but once that was behind you, the pain would be gone. Of course, I would try to save your ovaries to prevent this from happening but I can't make any promises. There is a lot of damage. If I am able to save them the pain will most likely return. You don't need to decide now. I understand this is a huge decision. Take some time and give me a call when you decide how you want to proceed." His smile brought me comfort even though his words had the opposite effect.

"Thank you, Doctor," I choked out the words and walked out of the office. 

My mind raced with thoughts about the past. Thoughts about the pregnancies. 'I'm such a failure,' I lamented.

The tears flowed freely. I sobbed. 

Charlie had stood by me all of these years and now when he hears of this, he will surely want to leave me. Who in their right mind would want someone so utterly broken? 

I spiraled so fast that I hadn't had time to consider the fact that maybe this was a blessing. I was so far into my own despair that I couldn't see the silver lining. The pain would be gone. It would be a renewal. An opportunity to find me.

Who was Cathy? Where had she gone?

Lost for so long, I couldn't see myself anymore. I only saw a monster. 

"Cathy, look at yourself," I chastised. "Look at what you've become. No one will want you. No one will love you. No one will need a woman who isn't REALLY a woman anymore. Fat, ugly, gross and incapable of gifting her man with a child. Charlie won't want you, Chris will be ashamed..." the thoughts continued like this as I simply sat there.

A bottomless chasm of fear and regret. An endless chain of misery.

I couldn't call him and tell him. I couldn't say the words because once I said them they would be real. Once I uttered them from my lips I would seal my fate.

Who could I reach out to? Who could I go to for comfort?

The only name that pressed against my mind like a heavyweight was that of my mother. The same mother that for so many years had left me weak and fragile. 'She can help me,' my mind raced. I picked up my phone, held my breath and dialed her number. Each ring was torturous. 'Pick up the phone damn it,' I thought loudly to myself.

"Hello," the voice on the other end belonged to her. I knew it immediately and fear ripped through my chest. The breath I had been holding escaped me but it felt hollow and empty.

"Mom..." I cried. Sobs ripped through me.

"Cathy, are you alright?!" she screamed on the other end.

"I just came back from the doctor's office. He told me terrible news,"

"What did he say?"

"He told me that I need a hysterectomy. He told me that I had tumors. He told me..." my voice gets stuck in my throat.

"Don't believe him, he doesn't know what he is talking about. Have you gotten a second opinion?

"He's the only doctor that was willing to go in and do exploratory surgery. He only found this out because he went inside. He said you couldn't see the damage on the images. What am I going to do?"

"It's going to be alright. You are a wonderful mother and I am so proud of you. I can't believe how far you have come in this life and I am so sorry that you are going through this..." her voice trails off and for a brief moment, I feel like she and I are a mother and daughter. My heart feels full.

"You know, I've had this cold for like 4 weeks. I've been miserable. Congestion, aches, the works. I'm getting through it and you will too," there she goes. Back to talking about the most important person in the world. Herself.

"This is not the same thing," I snapped. 

"I know. I am just saying that if I can get through this cold you can get through this thing. I mean think about it, I have been sick for 4 weeks. 4 weeks! Imagine that? Lord knows, I have tried to get better, even went to the doctor and you know what they said?" Her voice raises with agitation.

"What did they say?" I respond trying to hide my exasperation.

"I just needed plenty of bed rest and fluids. Those doctors don't know anything and that's what I am saying Cathy. Take what this doctor said to you with a grain of salt. Get another opinion. You are fine. There is nothing wrong with you, understand?" and there it was. The mother I remembered. 

"If I need to have the surgery, I will do it,"

"I don't think you need it but if you do, I will be there for you," My breath stops.

"What do you mean?" I stammer.

"If you decide to have this surgery, I will be there. I wasn't there for you before but I will be there for you now,"

Just like that, it would seem that the giant chasm inside of my chest was shrinking. There was hope. If this woman could say this to me, maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Hope, it would seem was what I needed most. 

"Thank you," I said softly, allowing her words to wash over me like a warm blanket on a cold winters day.