At the Threshold of Menopause

On December 13th, I will have a hysterectomy. At 25 I had an orange-sized, extremely unusual, but benign tumor removed along with my right ovary. The concern was that it would become cancerous if it was not removed. The surgery was done at Pennsylvania Hospital, the first hospital in the country though I didn't appreciate that fact at the time, and it was eight weeks of the most critical and contemplative recovery, of peacefulness, I've ever known. I was a new social worker, and was quite exhausted from having worked for a year with 18 girls in varying stages of group and foster care. It made me the person I am today, but the surgery and recovery were a welcome time for healing and reflection on my life and what was to come.

After the surgery, I was told that conception might be problematic, but in fact it wasn't. Pregnancy came four times without effort; the first ending on Christmas Eve three days after discovering the pregnancy, and the last a blessed surprise at age 41. The children have been the greatest blessings in my life. It has never seemed fair that conception should be so easy with only one ovary when in fact so many women can't at all with two. In those early days of my social work profession, I imagined adoption of teenagers, knowing so well the tremendous need. But here now 23 years later and at the doorstep of menopause, I still see the crying need, but find those years have taken their toll in energy and focus. Three active, and at times extraordinarily needful, children are all I can manage. There was a time when I would have laughed at that limitation. Age does have it's benefits. Maybe....

And so now as I celebrate the end of hypervigilance in scans and biopsies, keeping guard for more potentially threatening tumors, as I bleed for the last time, it is with a remarkable relief, but also wariness and fear of how the absence of my natural hormones will affect me, and my family. Reflecting on the lifegiving aspects of my body and the very soon loss of them, results in wonderings and wanderings about how I will be a lifegiving force from here on. Life is the must precious form of gift; it sustains all of us. Will life be significantly changed afterwards? Will the physical and emotional symptoms of instant menopause undo me and torture my family? God-willing, no, but I'm ready and waiting....much like pregnancy. And much like this Advent season. Waiting for a new birth into a new world of freedom from worry and pain, the freedom our Christian faith gives us. Perhaps this will be my fifth child, and perhaps I can take this new child into the world with love and celebration.