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When Vaginas Attack: My Hysterectomy


Hi! I’m Allie and I Make Hysterectomy’s Look Cool.

I am 38-years-old and I had a hysterectomy.

Today is the first day I was supposed to get my period and did not.

Normally, on the first day of my period, I would be writhing in pain. Instead, I donated every single tampon, pad, cup, and period depends to a homeless shelter. I even said BYEEEE BITCHESSS as I dropped it in the donation bin.

My body had been under attack by way of my vagina, and I opted to get a hysterectomy.

Here is my story:

When Vaginas Attack….


Last Bun in the Oven

The interesting thing about being a 31- year-old single mom with no prospects, is that motherhood is the farthest thing from your mind. I don’t mean motherhood in the sense of actively being a mother, but in the sense of having additional children.

At 38, when presented with an option to drastically improve my quality of life BUT give up the possibility of having another baby, suddenly all I wanted was a baby.

Now, I can be honest with myself. The cold hard truth of Allie LeMons. When I look in the mirror, I see a mother who doesn’t like children. I don’t dislike my own child, or the children of my closest friends, but children, generally speaking, are not my cup of tea. You could call me the most Auntiest Mom that has ever existed. I don’t want to play pretend tea party, I don’t want to watch horrible children’s theatre or sports, and I definitely don’t want to pretend macaroni art is the equivalent of a priceless Monet (even though it actually looks like one, ugh). During the Pandemic I taught my daughter to make a Cosmo as a part of her math lessons. See, I’m giving Auntie, not Mommy vibes, but I digress.

Whats Up Down There?

I have a few things “wrong” with my lady parts and my body as a whole. First, I have (had) fibroids, 5 to be exact. 4 inside of my uterus and 1 outside on top. Fibroids cause a whole slew of issues. Long and heavy periods. Painful sex. Serious fatigue. Severe backpain. The list goes on and on. That coupled with Iron Deficiency Anemia, which at one point wasn’t severe but after I had Alex it became a serious issue for me, causes fatigue; pale skin; hair loss; constant cold hands/feet, dizziness, shortness of breath and more. It is fatal if not addressed.

Real quick, a little sidebar of these two medical terms.



Fibroids: Non cancerous growths on the uterus. They can be the size of seeds all the way up to the size of golf balls (that’s me) If you want to read more about these bad boys please visit Fibroids.


Iron Deficiency Anemia: When your blood doesn’t produce enough healthy red blood cells because you are unable to absorb Iron into your blood. If you want to read more about that b*tch anemia please visit Anemia

So you’re girl doesn’t absorb enough Iron to have healthy red blood cells, which move the oxygen through my body AND I have fibroids which cause HEAVY bleeding. Recipe for disaster right. My last period lasted 67 days. The one before that 23 days and I had to be hospitalized. Living a life of Blood Transfusions, Iron infusions, constant bleeding and fatigue has worn me down. I sleep for 10-12 hours and its never enough. Having sex is one of the most painful (and not in a good way) experiences that I’ve ever had, I have to plan every aspect of my life around my period and I’m miserable.

My previous doctor recommended, AT MY BIG AGE of 38, that I go on birth control. The birth control lightened my period, but I didn’t stop bleeding and I developed a blood clot. When that happened, the pills were thrown out the window. Which brings me to the decision I ultimately made, a Total Hysterectomy.

Sidebar for medical terms:



Total Hysterectomy: A procedure to remove your uterus and cervix.

I never wanted another baby until I was told that I couldn’t…


Allie and Ave

When my new doctor told me about the hysteretomy option, I was offended. I felt too young. And I felt like my chances at my “happily ever after” were being cut short. You see, finally, I’ve met my Prince Charming, MJ. The man that I’ve prayed for, cried for and had to grow for. He is a provider, allows me to truly sit in my femininity, allows me to be just a mom and Allie. That’s it. I don’t have to wear a hundred hats because I am alone raising a child. He loves me, he loves Alex and he is EXACTLY the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

But He Has No Children.

And I thought that I would become useless to him if I could not provide him a child. That’s the thing about meeting the love of your life AFTER you’ve already lived another life, everything is new to them but sort of old to you. So, we talked. I cried. We talked some more. He’s okay with not having children of his own. But in true Allie fashion I tried to convince him that he was just saying that to make me feel better. So, we argued. I cried. We argued some more. Again, he’s okay with not having children of his own.

He said to me, “Alex is almost 9, do you really want to go through this again? You are almost free. Having another baby will not change anything from the past. I am ok with not having a child, I have Alex.”

MJ was right. I wanted to have a baby for purely selfish reasons, to replace the experience I had being pregnant with Alex, and the subsequent 9 years I have spent as a single mother. To experiene the admiration that comes from your partner when you give them a child. I wanted my belly rubbed and I wanted that kiss you see in movies when Mom finally delivers the baby, its covered in goo and she kisses its forehead and Dad is so proud of her – he’s crying. To erase the isolation and loneliness; the memory of going to every doctors appointment with my best friend instead of my husband. I want to forget my husband blaming me for getting pregnant, to forget him disappearing for days at a time to be with his mistress and leaving me alone.

Hard Truths

There are some hard truths I need to look at. They are hurtful truths, but they must be examined.

  1. Having a baby with someone else will not change how I feel about/towards my daughter.

  2. I don’t care for children.

  3. I am finally in a great place financially and another mouth to feed would be awful.

  4. I am a whole person independent of the title of Mommy.

  5. I need to address my PTSD and trauma towards my Ex-Husband and my pregnancy.

(These aren’t going to be unpacked in these few paragraphs nor with all of you on Beyonce’s Internet. It’s just a glimpse into where my thoughts were leading up to my surgery. )

So, I made the appointment. November 1st at 8:45 am. For 60 days, I did all the tests, all the examinations, had double sessions with my therapist to work through this loss. Then I found out I was already going through perimenopause, so not getting the hysterectomy probably wouldn’t have gotten me a baby anyway. I walked through the motions.

The Day Of…

On November 1st, at 8:45am, I walked through the double hospital doors. Scared. I was checked in by a woman with beautiful locs. The scent of her lavender hair oil wafted across the desk and instantly calmed me. She ushered me, with a soft hand on my lower back, to a private room. I was asked a series of medical questions, then left to change into my surgery gear. I undressed; wiped my body down with warm antiseptic wipes, and put on the ill-fitting hospital gown, all while tears poured from my eyes.

Remembering The Past


I’m Already Winning <3

I sat alone in that cold room, on that uncomfortable bed, and saw 38 years flash before me. The dreams I’d had as a little girl – to visit the Eiffel tower and eat croissant, to kiss boys under twilight skies (specifically MJ but that’s another story for another day), to fall in love, to dip my toes in oceans near and far, to get married, to buy a Louis Vuitton, to open a nail salon, to hear job well done from my parents, to live alone and eat crackers in my underwear while reading Vogue ala Carrie Bradshaw – I then had a moment of quiet realization, children were NEVER a part of my dream. I questioned myself, is this procedure really a loss? I’ve already come out on top and accomplished so much AND I have Alex. Right now, I’m already up 1. Would a hysterectomy change that?

My Hysterectomy Procedure Begins

I waited to be ushered to my next destination. More questions. More doctors. I was hooked up to machines. Given IV drips on both hands. Given medication to prevent my blood transfusion from rejecting. Then my doctor walks in. Dr. C. She closed the curtain and took off her gloves. I watched her shuffle over to the hand sanitizer station and clean her hands. She said, “Allie” and I looked at her. She pulled down her mask and took my hand in hers and said, “Do you want to do this?” Her hands were soft and her touch felt like a hug. My response, “Yes.”

The Operating Table

And as she said “okay”, she released my hands and walked to pull back the curtain. The team had arrived and I was now being shuffled to my final operation destination. The room was bright with loud flourescent buzzing. I moved myself from my hospital bed to the operating table. The anesthesiologist greeted me and said, “We are going to fill your lungs up with oxygen through this mask- please take some deep breaths.” He places the mask over my face and I start to breath in deeply. I repeat the process 3 times. I woke up briefly to bright lights and someone saying my name, but none of it made sense, so I closed my eyes again and drifted back into the nothingness.

The New Normal

I woke up again and this time opened my eyes wider. After realziing I was in a hospital room, I noticed a feeling of pressure radiating from my shoulders down to my abdomen. I immediately went to touch my belly, to cradle and protect it. A voice I’d not heard previously called out “no no, don’t touch, don’t do that!” and I dropped my hands. I looked around and saw a tall woman with blonde hair. She was in scrubs and came over to check my vitals. I immediately asked to go to the bathroom. She offered to come with me but I turned to her and said ALONE. I wanted to look at myself. To see if I still looked the same. after my hysterectomy She held my arm and I shuffled to the bathroom and shut the door.

I lifted up my gown to look at my stomach. The top of my vagina. To examine my breasts. I wanted to see all the physical things that made me look like a woman. Turns out that everything checked out. Even after a hysterectomy, I’m still a lady, but I cradled my stomach none-the-less. I had four puncture wounds covered in a silicone patch. From this point on it’s a blur. I remember eating crackers and drinking water, asking for my friend Maria, who’d come to support me for my surgery. When getting in her car and hugging her, I smelled the floral aroma of her hair and the softness of her chest. I wanted to crawl into the small nook of her arm and be cradled like a child because I felt hallowed out.

Recovery from a Hysterectomy

I suffered at home, wincing through pain, crying to myself, tucked away in my bed. Having MJ and Alex wait on me hand and foot. Catering to my frivolous need for a snuggle or chocolate cake. It’s as if the removal of the parts that made me an adult woman had turned me back into a baby.

The here and now…


I’m now at day 29 post hysterectomy. I feel bearable pain that I am controlling with over-the-counter meds. Finally, I have energy and my mood is better. I’m walking 20 minutes every day. I’ve been getting iron infusions every Monday for 5 hours. I’m feeling stronger. I know I made the right choice, but each day that I get up, I feel a twinge of guilt, and a longing in my belly. I’ve been avoiding every baby section in every store. I’ve been looking at crying babies with an elevated sense of tenderness. My heart, while broken, has softened. It’s weird because I’m mourning a life I never wanted, all while learning to celebrate the one that I have.

Author: Allie LeMons. Allie is Market Director for Sixx Cool Moms of Northern New Jersey, and Mom to 9- year-old Ave, and her fur babies Manolo and Puzzle. She enjoys shoes, marshmallows, and champagne. She considers herself a pretty okay mom.

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