Fear. That's what I feel.
Combined with healthy doses of sadness, grief, inadequacy, anxiety, and heartache.
And I'm not kidding on the heartache part. In case your wondering about that word, I've learned that it is very much a physical feeling. My heart literally hurts. With a pain. For two days I've been massaging my chest and it's all because of heartache.
In less than 9 hours a doctor is going to make an incision in my stomach and take out my uterus, Fallopian tubes, ovaries, and cervix. All of the parts that have been broken for so long.
The ovaries that my last fertility test said were young and healthy despite PCOS. They mass produced eggs for IVF in surreal quantities. I can't remember how many eggs were retrieved on my first IVF but I think it was 31. 28 or something like that on the 2nd. Lost count on the 3rd. Those ovaries that ached and caused pain - yet had a very important function, which they performed.
The uterus that caused a lot of problems. Fibroids during my short lived pregnancy that caused concern and alarm. This uterus that I'm both mad at - yet thankful for. With every medical marvel we tried to make it fluffy and perfect for embryo transfers... yet it just wasn't. But when the time was right it did contain the cancer so I'm thankful for that. For three years it's held on to something we didn't want to get away... yet wouldn't latch on to the one thing we wanted it to keep.
My cervix. That place that destroyed my dreams when it couldn't contain my one and only shot at motherhood. "Incompetent" is what the medical doctors called it when it wouldn't hold a baby inside. The solution was always going to be to stitch it shut if I ever got pregnant again. But I didn't...
It's a mixed bag of emotions and you'd think that I'd clamor to get rid of these broken parts as fast as I can.
Yet I'm not.
Because I'm devestated about what it all means without them.