It is quiet outside. For a neighborhood inundated with remodeling, today is strangely silent. The humid air is still and calm. As I look out the french doors that open onto my front patio and above the high wooden fence, all I see are trees. Giant Pine and Elm. I could be anywhere. I could be on vacation.

I have been in a daze since my surgery this morning, and everything hurts.

I tied my tubes on a Tuesday.

Blithe and ignorant, I imagined it would be like getting my wisdom teeth pulled out. I was wrong. My first clue was when the anesthesia doctor told me that my throat would hurt when I woke up, from the tube. I blacked out as I thought, “Holy shit. That sounds serio..”

The pain is magnified by my emotional ties, pun intended, to my womb.

I will never have another child.

I made that choice, loud and clear.

I guess you could call me dramatic.

Go big or go home! I always say.

I must stop saying that.

In my mind, by the time I meet someone, and get to know them enough to have a child with them (unlike with my ex) I will be almost a hundred years old.

Speaking of my Ex, he offered to drive me to the hospital early this morning and then drive me home. After he dropped me off, he left. He left me some soup in the fridge. I couldn’t even get up to heat it up. He called an hour later and asked if I wanted him to come back and help me.

I did.

I told him I didn’t.

I laid on the couch, unable to move, and took enough painkillers to numb everything that hurt, including my heart.


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