Bottle it up

I have 2 ways of dealing with emotions. I either explode with fury or I bottle them up.

The odd thing is its the little things that cause me to explode. Its the running late in the morning. It's the bath towel that I move from my sink every morning. It's the idiot that cuts me off in traffic. That gets to me & I'm highly incensed.

The other things, the more important and personal, the less likely I am to share. I just swallow them. Sometimes I ruminate over them and marinate and stew. Other times I let it all build.to a.crescendo. either way its not healthy & I am sure this.toxic.stew is contributing on some level to my sleep issues.

I have been bottling up one thing that came bubbling to the surface last night. In about a month, I will have a hysterectomy. For most women its not that emotional. I, on the other hand, have some issues with it. I guess its me finally saying ok I'm not going to have kids of my own. It's that final.resignation. Even though I was told time & again it was biologically impossible, I held out a glimmer of hope that it might happen. There are miracles every day. Maybe I could be that miracle.

But this surgery will end that possibility. And its hard to admit defeat. Seriously. It's bad enough that I still have that undercurrent of failure for not being able to perform a woman's most essential function. Yes, despite everything, it still hurts and stings. I do feel like less of a woman for it. I'm sure that on some intrinsic level its changed my relationships with others. I do feel a twinge of jealousy over pregnancy. It's.like I am angry that I've been denied that privilege.

Now it is a definite that it will never be. It's going to be medically impossible. I will lose my biological connection to womanhood.

Will my husband feel any different about me post-op? Will I feel.different post-op?

Will I be less.of a woman?

I feel like a partial woman as it is, being barren. I feel like I am a pretender to the throne. It's like I am some sort of fake or.fraud. one of my favorite movies of all time is the wizard of.oz. the scene where the curtain gets pulled back, revealing the wizard still makes me gas.p even though ive seen it a gazillion times.

I feel like the wizard sometimes. Im deathly afraid someone will.pull back my curtain & reveal the truth.

There are days when I feel like a fake mom. Don't get me wrong I love my son more than anything else. He's the light of my world, but when people talk about how smart he is or how handsome he is (which is true on both accounts), I know that I.do not have a hand in that. I often do not know how to.respond, other than the obligatory thank you. I often mumble something about the fact he's biologically not mine, more.so.for me than anyone else.

Like I need to beat myself over the head for that fact.

Right now I am dealing with the death of a long time dream. And its hard. I don't know how easy it will be to move on from this. Maybe I will wake up after surgery and be ready to write a new chapter in my life. Maybe I will need.to.grieve some more over this immense loss. Maybe it will be a.combination of both. Time will tell.

It's not that I don't love my son or love him any less because of this. It's not that its different, well it is. I think its more fierce, more.protective, more defensive. I want to envelop him in love. I surround him with a bubble of stability and safety. I DO for him. My life revolves around my child.