Cycle Day 26
Hello, how are you? It’s your body, here. You know, that thing that carries you around all day, and provides such a comfortable, relaxing and slightly squishy pillow for you to lay your weary fundus on? Yes, that’s me.
I know I haven’t always provided the most supportive environment for you. For a year I confused you and your friends, the ovaries, with the pill, and then I asked my friendly surgeon to remove the polyp you’d been so lovingly growing and tending for a year or two. I’m sorry. I realise now that Percy the Polyp was your friend. Perhaps I shouldn’t have separated you, but you’ll be glad to know that Percy lived out the rest of his days, happily, in a laboratory (he whispered to me once that that was his ultimate ambition, don’t worry). You recovered well, however, so you could be forgiven for being confused and feeling punished when I then suppressed you for five years with that small piece of progesterone-eluting plastic. You rallied well, and fought bravely against it. You didn’t give up, and even gave me a period now and then, despite my protests. You didn’t give up then. Please, rally your endometrium, flex your fimbriae, and don’t give up on me now.
You breathed a sigh of relief when the coil was removed. Finally, you could reveal your true potential. You gave me a period to remember (as did my trousers, which have never been quite the same since). You were over the moon when you finally had a true friend, a baby, snuggled deep into your endometrium. You felt so maternal, I know. You felt so fiercely protective of that little life. And then that little light went out, and you still didn’t give up your friend. You didn’t let go. You couldn’t. I don’t blame you for that, I felt the same way.
But as your body, I had to make a decision. Either I waited to see if you’d release the baby by yourself, and ran the risk of infection hurting you badly, or I let the surgeons remove the baby. I know now that I made the wrong decision. I hope you’ll forgive me for that, it really wasn’t my fault. They didn’t tell me what they would do, and they didn’t tell me about the risk of you being so hurt. I was shocked when I discovered how much of you they’d scraped away, brutally. I know you were scarred, I know you were hurting. I know you still are. I tried to fix you. I know you feel a bit better now, but not totally.
I know that you don’t see the point in improving, as the same thing might happen. But I promise you, I will never let anyone do that to you again. I know you’re scared, in case you have another baby inside – what if they leave you too? But, uterus, maybe next time they won’t. Maybe they’ll be OK. We don’t know if we don’t try.
So please, try really hard this time. Thicken up that endometrium, and give me a nice heavy period. Please.
Well, that’s it for now. I hope that I hear from you soon, in the next day or two if possible.
Lots of love,
PS I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to make you read this… Rely on thought waves? Stand with legs akimbo over my laptop (sorry)? Apart from anything else, I think I’ve misplaced your glasses…