Jennifer Zigler
My first step towards moving forward came in January of 2024 when I had my hysterectomy. I had just turned the calendar on the worst year of my physical health. My endometriosis and adenomyosis symptoms were at an all-time high. The pain was so intense I was frequently vomiting. I had such severe bloating that any sort of waist band touching my stomach was torture. I was experiencing nerve pain and my left leg would twitch and tingle. My lower back was in constant pain. Bowel movements (when they did happen) were so intense I was nearly passing out on the toilet. I wasn't living any sort of quality life. Most days it felt like I was barely surviving. Having a third endometriosis surgery and a full hysterectomy at 37 was not how I saw my life playing out but I was desperate for relief. It was not a decision my GYN or I were taking lightly. I made endless pro and con lists in my head. The obvious pros were pain relief and quality of life. The cons were immense and difficult to explain. How do you properly articulate to someone what it's like to mourn a future? To finally put a pin in fertility treatments. To drawing a line in the sand of becoming a mom. How do I even understand that myself? Ultimately, my husband and I agreed my quality of life is what we needed to focus on.
The day after my surgery I felt relief from the physical pain I had endured and knew in that moment without a doubt we made the best decision. I felt so much peace. Post-surgical pain was minimal and recovery (for me) was a breeze! The pain was far less than what I had trudged through in the previous year. The hardest part of recovery was relaxing and letting my body heal. I felt so good and I just wanted to go. While I was in bed recovering, I started making plans. I started planning for my new future. My husband and I were looking at a blank canvas ahead of us. My best friend and I dubbed 2024 my comeback year. It felt amazing planning events with such confidence. Historically, I would have to look at my calendar and plan around my cycle. I was always nervous to commit because of all the "what ifs". What if I had a flare up? What if I was in so much pain I couldn't get out of bed? Post hysterectomy there were no contingencies to plan for.
First thing on my list was to get back to running and racing. I ran my first post-surgical race at the end of April. I felt so free and so me out on the course. It had been years since I enjoyed running and lacing up my shoes again was so healing. Next thing up was travel. My best friend and I planned a trip out west to hike. I would have never dreamed of doing that prior to my surgery. I remember being on the trail with my friend and telling her I would have never committed before due to the what ifs. What if I felt fine but then had a flare up at our furthest point out? It was such a wonderful time filled with laughter, food, and wine. Even more of me was healing.
My husband and I started making plans for the fall of 2025. It would be our 10-year anniversary and we wanted to go to an all-inclusive resort. Again, prior to surgery I would have never been so bold to leave the country! Now, there was nothing holding me back! We found the perfect resort and booked our stay. Who was this woman making plans a year in advance? I was actually feeling excitement for the future again. Next up on the list was concerts. I am obsessed with live music. I feel the most alive and most me when I'm surrounded by people singing our favorite songs in unison. Who wants to go to concerts when you're feeling miserable though? Now pain free, I was setting alerts and tracking all my favorite artists. I could feel more joy sneaking back in.
Not all healing came in the large, grandiose moments. I felt joy and contentment coming back to my daily life. I started cooking again. I had always loved making new recipes and didn't even notice that I had slowly stopped cooking at all. The pain and exhaustion stole that joy overtime. I started appreciating that I had the luxury of quiet evenings where I could lose myself in a good book. I could stay up on a Friday night until the early hours of the morning playing the "just one more chapter" game so I could get to the plot twist.
There were a few summer nights where my husband and I had ice cream for dinner. We declared we were adults and there were no rules! So, birthday cake ice cream with sprinkles for dinner it was! We looked forward to lazy Saturdays in the fall where we could watch college football all day.
We loaded up our coffee table with snacks and dips and grazed all day. I became more present at work and returned to turning in much more quality work. I was offered an attractive promotion and was able to accept without fear of what ifs. I started serving more at church. I was able to be in a regular rotation on our tech team and went for a nominated position of treasurer. I started adult piano lessons. I've always wanted to play and I figured there's no better time!
My husband and I love being an uncle and aunt to our family and friend’s kids. Being an aunt is not a consolation prize for motherhood. It is its own relationship and its own kind of love. I can adore the kids that call me Aunt Jenn while sometimes still feeling the ache of never hearing anyone call me mom. Both things can be true. We love sharing in birthdays, milestones, and the day to day. We don't want to be the giant elephant in the room. Being childless not by choice is certainly part of us, but not all of us. My husband and I are healing parts of our younger selves in the way we show up for our nieces and nephews. We didn't always have people show up for us as kids. Seeing their eyes scan the crowd at a t-ball game or dance recital and catch our eyes and light up melts my heart. We have a different relationship with the kids because we have a different time capacity. My husband and I aren't rushing through life. We can really be present with them and I can tell they notice that and feel it.
We have the pleasure to babysit our friends’ kids. It truly is an honor that our friends trust us on such a deep level. I assure you that these are not one-sided relationships. These are friends that showed up for us and continue to do so. They have offered shoulders to cry on. They have listened with genuine curiosity and sympathy while I pour my heart out to them. They showed up with food during my recovery. They drove multiple hours back to my hometown for my mom's services after her passing. These aren't surface level friends. They are friends that we've experienced a lot of life with. The ability to be raw, unfiltered, and real with them has helped my healing is so many ways. We recognize our life paths look different, but there is such a common language of support and rooting for one another that runs so deep.
When we first ended treatments, I felt like I needed to do something larger than life. That I needed to fill every minute of the day with something since I didn't have children. A simple life wouldn't do. I needed to overcompensate. One night while I was sitting on my couch reading it hit me. I didn't have to do something astronomical to prove my worth or validity to myself. I just needed to stop waiting for my real life to begin. I spent so many years waiting to be a mom and waiting to be pain free. I didn't want to keep waiting for permission to be happy. At times I hesitate to share the things that bring me joy. I don't want it to come across like a laundry list of reasons I'm happy I don't have children. They certainly are not. Being childless not by choice is part of my life and my story. But this is my reality and my story, and somewhere along the journey I have stopped measuring my life by what is missing from it. Moving on isn't getting over it. I will never have enough book, concerts, or travels to compensate for what happened. But I am allowing myself to love the life that exists alongside the life I sometimes still wish I had. Both things can be true.
