I have to say goodbye to my uterus and one ovary on Tuesday. (I get to keep my other one.)  Should be good times. Not really, but I'll get over it.

She did do me proud, though...carried my two sweet girls for 9 (well, only 8 with Jane) months. But it's those two sweet girls who wrecked her, and made a mess of my insides. Rude. And after all I did for them.

I've been calling her "Bertha" for the last few days. Pretty funny, I think. We shall refer to my uterus as Bertha for the remainder of this post.

My sweet friend, Audra, has arranged meals for my family for a month while I recover. I'm so thankful for one less thing to take care of.  Thanks, Audra!

The irony of all this is that I am pregnant on paper (aka, adoption) during the time when I am losing my physical ability to ever bear children again. And if I sit and ponder the latter point very long, I might get sad. So I shant. Ponder, that is. (I like to talk like I'm in a Jane Austen novel. That's why I say shant.)

That's about all I have to say regarding this event. Except I said earlier that I would refer to my uterus as Bertha, but then I never really mentioned her again. So...bye-bye, Bertha. I'll miss what might have been, old girl. But I also get to say BUH-BYE to all the cramps, pain, and all the rest of the stuff she brought along with her. SEE YA, sister!