Goodbye Granny Panties!

Happy successful sportswoman raising arms to the sky on golden back lighting sunset summer. Fitness athlete with arms up cele
Happy successful sportswoman raising arms to the sky on golden back lighting sunset summer. Fitness athlete with arms up celebrating goals after sport exercising and working out outdoors. Copy space.

It was a big decision. It meant no more babies would be created in my body. It meant one of the things that defines me as a woman, would be permanently removed.

After I had my two kids, things downtown started to get quite disgusting. I had always had heavy periods but this was bordering on ridiculous.

Instead of having a weekly period, I seemed to bleed more than not. I had a reverse period. It felt like I had my period three weeks and one week off.

Lime-sized clots emerged from my nether regions and I turned into a crazed lunatic at times. I ruined every pair of underwear I owned.

Once, out with friends at a bar, I got up from the chair and realized that I had painted the seat red from leaking. Mortified I tried to secretly wipe it up with the cocktail napkin.

To prevent such incidents from happening again, I was up to Super Plus tampons paired with an uncomfortable pad. I felt like I was wearing a diaper.

I couldn't go for a run without worrying that a stream of red would appear down my legs.
I felt absolutely disgusting. I was grumpy all the time and extremely tired. After trying to change up my birth control pills, my doctor and I had a serious conversation about how to make my quality of life more "quality."

Only 38 at the time, I was scared to make the decision.

I debated on whether or not Tom Brady would be leaving Giselle anytime soon and bearing children with me. When I realized that probably wasn't going to happen, I bit the bullet and took a big breath. I called my doctor.

"Okay, let's take the baby bag out."

The day of the surgery I'm not sure what I felt. Sad? A little. But the way I was going, people were going to start calling me Moses as I constantly was putting out enough blood to create my own red sea.

I don't really remember much, other than the recovery was harder than I thought. My friends rallied with meals and magazines. I am forever grateful for the strong circle of women I have supporting me.

Now two years later I don't even think about it. At 40 I don't think as much about having another baby. It's easy to be content when I look at the two beautiful children I created. They inspire me everyday through love, frustrations, laughter, curiosity, kindness, caring... did I say love?

I can now go to the beach and not worry about the cotton tail hanging out of my bikini bottom. Or worse, I don't worry about serving as shark bait as I no longer bleed buckets.

There are times I wonder if I should have waited. I did keep my ovaries to avoid prematurely turning into a prune, so I do still get a touch hormonal each month, but nothing like I did prior to my hysterectomy.

It's a decision that, in the end, I'm glad I made. I feel better. My confidence is back up and I no longer have to run off to Target to purchase a pack of granny panties that are strictly worn during that time of the month.

Nope, I get to wear sexy underwear whenever I want without fear of ruining them.

Except for those days when I laugh so hard that I wet my pants. That's a story for another day.