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Dear Uterus

Now that we’ve finally come to the end of our life together, I find saying goodbye is much harder than I thought. I can’t say that I’m not pleased to see you go. Let’s face it, our relationship has been a rocky one ever since I first got to know you back in the 6th grade. You’re the reason my mother tried to force me to eat iron-rich chicken livers in high school, and the reason I sampled every birth control pill known to woman once I was married. Then, when I finally needed you to do your job, you had to be begged, bribed and cajoled into action.

But when push came to shove, you really came through for me in a big way. Together we endured 2 pregnancies in 19 months. And as the triplets writhed and flipped and generally tried to tear us both asunder, you held strong, cradling them safely for longer than anyone could have imagined or hoped. I guess that’s why relegating you to the hazmat bin seems kind of unfair.


Is this any way to say "Thanks for the memories?"

So I’ve been brainstorming, and have come up with a few alternatives:

I could have you cremated and made into keychains.

So you'd always be on the go.

Unfortunately, they only come in sets of three, and I don’t think it would be fair to leave one of the boys out. I suppose I could order a double set, then Jason and I could have one, too. But I just don’t see him getting on board with this idea without some serious cajoling on my part. Even if I did talk him into it, I have a strong suspicion his portion of you would be “lost” within 24 hours.

There’s always a memorial tattoo.

It's not like this guy's Pit Bull deserves more credit than you, right?

But…let’s face it…I’m just not a tattoo kind of girl. And I think I might become increasingly less fond of you if I had to see you every time I look in the mirror. Heaven knows I’m not on speaking terms with my stomach and upper thighs for just this reason.

When it comes down to it, I think my first inclination was by far the best and most appropriate — a Viking Funeral.

Picture this floating down the Cahaba River next week.

Really, the only downside I can see is the very real chance of your starting a raging forest fire. But other than that — genius, right?

Seriously, Uterus…even if I can’t wrangle a permit for the flaming longboat, don’t think your hard work hasn’t been appreciated. The boys are incredible — so healthy and perfect. Full of silliness and wonder. That’s a legacy you can be proud of. Heck, anyone would be. Goodness knows I am.



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4 Responses

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  1. Elizabeth Anne says

    My dad has a pond and paddle boat…would that make you happy? It’s yours if ya want it…he loves to play with matches!

  2. Alonna says

    Go Girl! I can almost relate. When it was time for the good ole ovaries to do me the favor, they were like ” what do you mean you need our help?” We did fertility and quit and then on a sunny August day an egg appeared on my monitor like “what up girlfriend we are still here give this one more try!” and sure enough they helped me out. Good times 🙂

  3. Anne Riley says

    Hahahahaha oh my gosh! Well, good luck on saying goodbye to the uterus. I’m slightly jealous, actually, but I’m not quite at that point just yet.

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