I am scheduled for surgery on Thursday. I will be having a bladder sling put in and my uterus taken out. Come to find out, if you have five babies in six years, your uterus decides it has had enough and runs away. Slowly.

Like a sloth.

Shout out to children have been cracking me up with their slothiness. ('m.........coming) Hence the need for the bladder sling.

Predictably, because I have so many, many piles of feelings everywhere (I even have emergency-reserve feelings packed away in air-tight five-gallon buckets--just in case), I have struggled with the emotional impact of having a hysterectomy in my thirties. There is grief here. 

It forces the question: who am I am why.

Who am I? 

I am a mother, but who is a mother without a womb? I am a woman, but who is a woman without a cycle?

The answer is, a mother and a woman.

Also, neither of those things. I am a being, blessed with consciousness, moving through life one moment at a time, breathing, seeing, touching, and knowing that I am more than a fascinating arrangement of positively, negatively, and neutrally charged particles.

I am me. 

And I want to laugh again.