Endometriosis, Fibroids, and Adenomyosis: My Decision to Have a Hysterectomy

I’ve always been a “let’s plan it out and execute it perfectly” kind of gal. It’s just the way I’m wired. Sometimes I feel like I’m making up for lost time, and somewhere along the way, I stopped wishing for things and started building them.

Instead of walking around saying, “I wish I had a _____,” I shifted into action mode.

And once that switch flipped, it became: hit the ground running and never look back.

Hyper-focused.

Blinders on.

Go big or go home.

That mentality carried me through years of building a business, speaking, performing, showing up, and pushing through until a few weeks ago after a show in Darien.

I’ve been dealing with female health issues since I was 14 years old, when I was diagnosed with endometriosis. Since then, it’s been a long road of Lupron injections, birth control, miscarriages, postpartum hemorrhaging, ovarian cysts, a sticky tilted placenta, adenomyosis, multiple uterine fibroids, severe anemia, and bleeding so heavy and unpredictable that I carried emergency products in every purse, pocket, backpack, and car compartment I owned.

Six iron infusions barely scratched the surface of the exhaustion I felt.

And the pain? Constant.

The fear? Even worse.

The night after our Darien show started out completely normal. Even though my cycle had started only 18 days after my last one, I chalked it up to perimenopause and expected the usual heavy bleeding.

But this wasn’t usual.

Around 11:30 p.m., it felt like someone had turned on a faucet inside my body. Within hours, I was bleeding through an ultra-plus tampon and a pad every 30 seconds. Clotting. Flooding. Shaking.

Finally, around 1:30 in the morning, I woke my husband up and said the words I’d been trying not to say:

“I think we need to go to the ER.”

Thirty-two minutes later, we walked into the emergency room terrified and exhausted.

Everything moved quickly after that. Bloodwork, ultrasounds, fluids, exams.

And by the time we left, I was wearing mesh underwear, carrying a brand-new fibroid diagnosis, and holding a whole lot of fear.

Then came Monday.

By the grace of God, my incredibly busy doctor had a cancellation and was able to see me at noon. As he peeked his head into the exam room, the fire alarms started blaring through the building.

He looked at me and said, “Do you want to talk in the parking lot?”

I remember thinking, “I’ll ride home from work with you if it means we still get this appointment.”

Minutes later came the news:

“You need a total hysterectomy.”

We could preserve the ovaries, but my uterus, cervix, and tubes needed to go.

And honestly?

I was ready.

It was time.

Yesterday morning, I checked into surgery at 5:45 a.m. By 9:30, I had officially had a total hysterectomy with ovaries intact and still inside my body, not in a jar as my brother hilariously thought.

And for the first time in a very long time, I feel relief.

I have four small incisions, some soreness that feels more like gas cramps or a side stitch, and I’m definitely sleepy, but overall, I’m okay.

More than okay, actually.

I feel hopeful.

For years, I pushed through pain because women are so often taught to normalize it. We minimize our symptoms. We adapt. We prepare. We carry extra clothes, extra products, and extra fear.

But pain is not supposed to become your personality.

Exhaustion is not supposed to become your baseline.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only woman who has silently suffered while trying to continue performing, parenting, leading, working, creating, and smiling through it all.

And if this story helps even one woman stop dismissing her symptoms or finally make the appointment she’s been putting off, then every vulnerable word is worth it.

Here’s to healing.

Here’s to rest.

Here’s to finally not surviving, but living.