Saying Goodbye to the Part of Me That Made Them because of pmdd

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thought I’d feel relief.
After everything my body has put me through… the hormones, the spirals, the days where my own brain turns on me…
I thought choosing a hysterectomy would feel like finally being free.
And it does.
But today it feels like grief has wrapped itself around my chest and refuses to let go.
I’ve cried all day.
The kind of crying that doesn’t ask permission.
The kind that comes from somewhere deep inside your bones.
Because this isn’t just a surgery.
This is me closing the door on the one thing I truly, deeply believe I’m good at.
Being a mum.
And yeah… I mum-shame myself daily.
I doubt myself.
I overthink everything.
I lie awake replaying moments, wondering if I got it wrong.
What mum doesn’t?
But underneath all of that…
I love being a mum.
It’s the one place in my life where, even in the chaos, even in the mess, even when I feel like I’m failing…
I know it matters.
I know I matter.
And now I’m choosing to end the part of me that creates that life.
No more pregnancy tests.
No more ultrasounds.
No more little kicks that feel like magic and terror all at once.
No more.
And I wasn’t ready for how final that feels.
I didn’t know the last time was the last time.
I didn’t get to hold onto it.
To soak it in.
To say goodbye properly.
It just… ended.
And now the next time I walk into a maternity ward, it won’t be me in the bed.
It’ll be my children.
My babies having babies.
And I don’t even know how to carry that yet.
Because this isn’t just about hormones or pain or treatment.
This is identity.
This is me letting go of the version of me that grew life.
That carried it.
That felt it move inside me.
That version of me is slipping away.
And I’m not ready to lose her… even if I have to.
The injections have helped me more than I can put into words.
They’ve quieted the storm in my head.
They’ve given me a version of myself that feels calmer, steadier… more here.
That’s why I’m doing this.
Because I want to be present.
I want to be better.
I want to live a life where I’m not constantly fighting my own body.
But today…
today I’m grieving the one thing I always believed I was truly good at.
And I think that’s why it hurts so much.
Because I’m not just letting go of having more babies…
I’m letting go of a part of myself that felt like purpose.
And I don’t think anyone talks about how heavy that is.
thought I’d feel relief.
After everything my body has put me through… the hormones, the spirals, the days where my own brain turns on me…
I thought choosing a hysterectomy would feel like finally being free.
And it does.
But today it feels like grief has wrapped itself around my chest and refuses to let go.
I’ve cried all day.
The kind of crying that doesn’t ask permission.
The kind that comes from somewhere deep inside your bones.
Because this isn’t just a surgery.
This is me closing the door on the one thing I truly, deeply believe I’m good at.
Being a mum.
And yeah… I mum-shame myself daily.
I doubt myself.
I overthink everything.
I lie awake replaying moments, wondering if I got it wrong.
What mum doesn’t?
But underneath all of that…
I love being a mum.
It’s the one place in my life where, even in the chaos, even in the mess, even when I feel like I’m failing…
I know it matters.
I know I matter.
And now I’m choosing to end the part of me that creates that life.
No more pregnancy tests.
No more ultrasounds.
No more little kicks that feel like magic and terror all at once.
No more.
And I wasn’t ready for how final that feels.
I didn’t know the last time was the last time.
I didn’t get to hold onto it.
To soak it in.
To say goodbye properly.
It just… ended.
And now the next time I walk into a maternity ward, it won’t be me in the bed.
It’ll be my children.
My babies having babies.
And I don’t even know how to carry that yet.
Because this isn’t just about hormones or pain or treatment.
This is identity.
This is me letting go of the version of me that grew life.
That carried it.
That felt it move inside me.
That version of me is slipping away.
And I’m not ready to lose her… even if I have to.
The injections have helped me more than I can put into words.
They’ve quieted the storm in my head.
They’ve given me a version of myself that feels calmer, steadier… more here.
That’s why I’m doing this.
Because I want to be present.
I want to be better.
I want to live a life where I’m not constantly fighting my own body.
But today…
today I’m grieving the one thing I always believed I was truly good at.
And I think that’s why it hurts so much.
Because I’m not just letting go of having more babies…
I’m letting go of a part of myself that felt like purpose.
And I don’t think anyone talks about how heavy that is.

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