An Open Letter to My Uterus

Dear Uterus,

As you know, we have been together for some time now. Thirty-nine years to be exact. I feel as if I have treated you well over the years. I've always kept on top of your health and never put toxic chemicals in my body that would make you do things you didn't want to do, nor were you designed to do. I've let you do - your thing.

And while you have been extremely cranky once a month for many years, I have rarely complained. I have always given you Advil or Tylenol to make you and I both feel better. I have always looked out for you.

You have been very efficient in the childbirth process over the years. You have never become cranky, acting up, before the allotted time and when it was time, you've done your job smoothly and swiftly. You were a little overzealous this last time at the end of labor and decided you were going to do the job without my assistance. But once again, I forgave you as I know that we were both tired and you just decided to get the job done.

So why this letter, you ask?

For the first time ever, I feel as if you deceived me this last Tuesday evening. For the first time ever, you messed with my head. For the first time ever, you played with my emotions and frankly, I'm a little mad.

You gave me contractions for many hours. And not just the Braxton-Hicks kind, which you know I pretty much ignore. No, you gave me the good-strong-this-is-labor kind of contractions. So much so that I even contacted my midwife. You had me convinced that Tuesday night was thee night.

You fooled me, my little ovum loving friend. And then you stopped. But not until 2 am. When I was good and tired.

I bet you got a good chuckle out of that, huh?

Ha ha, let's mess with her head and wear her out and then stop!! It'll be funny!

Not funny, dude! Not one little bit!

At any rate, I'm writing you to ask you to please stop the funny business. You got me. You got me good. I was fooled. Joke's over now would you please step up and get the job done? A few hours of work will greatly benefit both of us.

I get the baby and you get to go back to your once a month duty - and that's not even for a while! You get a vacation!

After the baby is born you'll get to lie around and be flabby for a while. Actually, I will too. See? It's a win win situation. All you'll need to do for a few days is contract occasionally, clamp back down and your job will be done!

At that point, the Mammary Gland Gang will have to do most of the work and the REM folks in my brain will be doing all the suffering. Not to mention our little Hormone friends. There's a lot of friends armed and ready for action, they're just waiting on you!

Is this an attention seeking thing? You realize your time is coming to an end and now you're yearning for extra attention? You will get your props, my friend, I promise. But if you try this deceitful joke again, I'm afraid I will no longer be able to trust you. When you actually mean business then I might have to ignore you and that could be bad.

Do you realize the ramifications of me not trusting you? We could end up with an unassisted birth! A birth in Phil the Suburban! Or worse yet.. A HOSPITAL BIRTH! Do you want that? Do you want your other uterus friends to whisper things behind your back? Things like:

"Michelle's Uterus cried wolf and then messed up the WHOLE birth!"

or

"Did you hear that Michelle's Uterus couldn't be trusted and didn't get the job done?"

Oh they will say these things, my friend. Uterus's can be cruel that way.

In closing, I just want to say that I still trust you. We've been a good team over the years and you haven't let me down yet. Please don't start now. No more funny business, alright? We've got a job to do, now let's just do it.

And sooner rather than later would be ideal. I mean it's the least you could do to make up for the wicked way in which you behaved this week.

I'm ready now. So contract, please.

Much Love,

Michelle