I got to see my empty uterus again last week.
I always imagined that the first time I saw my uterus, there would be a growing baby in there. I thought the doctor would spread that jelly on my belly and place that device on my tummy and we’d all look up at the screen and say “Oooooh..” It would be a teary and memorable moment, seeing that new life growing inside me for the first time.
Instead, I’ve had regular dates with my empty uterus over the past year. It’s been quite an education. I’ve learned that these exams are not just with the jelly on the belly device, but with that now-familiar wandy, poking around inside. Up on the big screen, we see my empty uterus, the doctors examining its size and shape, checking things like its pattern (tripple stripe is a good day), looking for unidentified objects, checking the thickness of the lining and on two sad occasions, looking for a baby in there.
Of course I wish that it wasn’t empty. But to be honest, from the first time I saw my uterus, I was was in awe. It’s such a deep and mysterious universe, orbited by the little planets of my ovaries and follicles. When I look at it, somehow even after my losses, I still feel optimistic. The universe is so vast, how could their not be room for life in there someday, some way? That’s what it’s there for, right?
After our losses, everyone told me not to blame myself. I desperately wanted to blame someone or something, but having gazed into the depths of my uterus, I couldn’t blame that beautiful part of myself. As far as I’m concerned, even if I never have a baby, it’s still the 8th wonder of the world.
When we discussed all the possible RPL (recurrent pregnancy loss) tests, our doctor recommended that I have another Saline Sonohystogram to examine my uterus even more closely. I was puzzled- haven’t we all seen enough of my uterus to know it’s not the problem? Aren’t they as impressed with it as I am? But, anxious to find the guilty party in these losses, I made the appointment just to be sure.
So I went in and paid another $350 for them to fill my uterus with saline fluid and look around again. The doctors waved their magic wand around in there, and within minutes, said that everything looked “fine.”
“Fine?” Is that all they had to say about that deep and mysterious part of myself? For my $350 couldn’t they at least give me the satisfaction of pretending to admire it more closely? And still, the question remains- will this universe with all its wonders ever support new life?
Of course I hope it will. But either way, I’m proud of my uterus and I know it’s wonderful. In fact, I might even make it my Facebook picture. Take that, fertile friends. I have a uterus too- and it’s a beauty even without a baby in it.