Dear Uterus,

Though this letter is about my own journey with you, I also want to hold space for all those whose stories with their uterus are different, for those who’ve wanted children but couldn’t, for those who’ve chosen not to, for those whose uterus causes only pain, or for those who have none at all. All of our relationships with you are varied, complicated, and valid in every form.

First, thank you for my four most prized possessions: my children. You gave them to me, kept them safe, and for that, I will always be grateful.

We have had a very complicated relationship. You decided at the young age of 10 years that I would be ready to take on womanhood. You also decided that it would be fitting for my ultimate mother, my grandmother, to be the one to be there for me as I started my menses. There I was at Grandma’s house, playing with my cousins, when I felt that strange new sensation and ran to the bathroom. Grandma went upstairs to borrow some pads from Chachi’s bathroom and came down to teach me how to use them. She was so delighted, while I was mortified. She then made me lie in her bed and treated me with care. It was as if I had achieved something so big. My mom came to pick me up, and both my grandma and mom came into the room with glee. That night, my mom announced my womanhood at the dinner table, with me eating quietly wishing this wasn’t happening. Then that weekend, they decided to tell everyone at the gurdwara!! Why oh why was I being subjected to this embarrassment!!

Just like that though, you made every month ever so difficult. The cramps were unbelievable, and the bleeding just so intense, even to the point where I had to visit the ER in high school due to the pain and amount of bleeding. Poor Grandma was so worried; she sat next to me begging Babaji to give her all that pain instead. Lucky for me, I needed to go on birth control because I was taking Accutane for my acne, which in turn started to help me with my dysmenorrhea.

You gave me my first son and helped me to deliver him safely. Just six weeks later, you decided I didn’t need much of a break, and my first postpartum period arrived right on time. Here we resumed the horrible menstrual cycles. That summer, you surprised us with a joyous occasion while we were in Ireland for a wedding. We dreamt of the next baby that you were holding inside you, only to realize on the plane ride back to the U.S. that you decided to let them go. You gave and you took away, and I learned that this journey in life is never just joy or grief, but always both. Just a few months later, while on a cruise for my sister-in-law’s fellowship celebrations, you decided it would be best to give me the worst period while we were on the sea. Every time I would breastfeed the baby, you decided to cramp so intensely while I writhed in pain. How fitting, when I needed to nurse my baby to nourish him, you would punish me. I kept taking as much Advil as I could, even crying to even go to the cruise doctor for more help.

Next, you held onto H, and while growing him inside you, also gave me hyperemesis gravidarum, making me lose weight, and later giving me cholestasis of pregnancy. Poor V would help me itch my legs and watch me scratch so much while I caused deep cuts, until finally, it was decided to deliver that baby you were holding. You then surprised us again five months later with a ruptured ectopic pregnancy—but I guess we can’t really blame you for that, can we?

A few months after this blowup, we were excited to find out you decided to hold life again! We were so excited, dreaming of a third, even thinking of her name. Asha, you would have been our dream. One day, I got a call that V had lice in his hair. Ugh! What a nuisance! I picked him up, took him home, and sat him on a chair in our shower. While he was watching Cocomelon, allowing me to take those live lice and nits out of his hair, you decided at that moment to expel a life out of me. While the water was washing away those lice, the water was also washing away the large clots coming out of me. A painful memory that will always be embedded in my brain and heart. I will forever hold that against you.

You made it up to us later that year and held the next baby boy for us until, at 35 weeks, you made me contract while I was seeing newborns in the hospital. How fitting and convenient! I finished rounding, ran over to labor and delivery, and got evaluated and was given the appropriate medications to stop the contractions. I drove home dizzy and wired from the medications, home to a husband and two sons, only to find those annoying critters in their hair yet again. Looks like you and lice had a contract with each other, it seems.

I will thank you for allowing me to try a natural birth for the third. It was a wild ride, with me banging on the door, screaming he was coming out. You gave me the courage to try it, but man, you were so intense with the contractions that day.

Five months later, as my best friend called me to announce his happy news with his wife, I was going through another loss that very day. How you always picked the right moments.

The last one you added on cholestasis towards the end of the pregnancy and after YOU pushed the baby to slide out on his own, you made me bleed for almost two years after delivery. TWO YEARS of daily bleeding, cramping, and wearing overnight pads during the day. No matter what my OB tried with medications and intrauterine devices, you wouldn’t stop expelling your lining. My OB finally suggested we take you out and throw you in a bucket. In fact, she said, you tried to kill me once, so really we were done with you.

But I was not done. I am still not done. Even though you are gone, I still miss the idea of you being able to give me more. I don’t miss you or your lining you would expel almost every day. I miss the dreams you gave me. I miss the ideas that you would let me live with. Since you left, you have left my pelvic floor weaker than ever. It hurts so much. You moved from my body, only to allow my bladder to fall a bit more onto my pelvic floor. Think about it, even my body needed you inside.

Thank you for all that you have given. Even thank you for all that you took from me. Without that, I would not have learned how precious life is. I appreciate all that you do for me and for all women. But not only are you appreciated, you are also resented. You are the one who holds the cards on what kind of journey a woman goes on in her life. You are the one who causes immense pain with fibroids and endometriosis. You are the one who won’t allow life, for whatever reason you choose. I wish that men would understand what a woman goes through with you inside her. I used to resent feeling like I was just a vessel holding a baby, as it always felt like that when others were concerned for the baby’s health only during pregnancy, but it was more than that. You were my connection to creation, to grief, to womanhood itself. Now that you’re gone, I realize how much of my identity was tied to you, not just as a mother but as a woman. You are the one who makes us into strong goddesses, and you are the one who brings us to our knees when you give us pain and loss.

You have been a source of creation, destruction, and identity. But I also know that not everyone’s story with you looks like mine. For some, you bring only pain or disappointment; for others, you’re absent altogether, and yet their womanhood, their wholeness, remains complete. Our experiences are all different. Each of our journeys is valid, and worth honoring. We, as women, are ever so strong and continue to be so together.

Love,
Jasmine