I don't want more kids, why am I sad?

Awwwe, honey- I think we all can relate to this. I've been putting off a hysterectomy for over 10 years now because up until 2.5 years ago, I was a single mom and didn't know if I'd end up marrying someone who wanted children. I 'sort of' liked the idea that I had the ability to have more. My 'boys' are 23 and 25 (wow, how did THAT happen?) and you'd think I'd want to be done with all that. But I wanted to keep my options open.....

Well, it just so happens that the love of my life came along four years ago and he is sterile. You'll notice that I started getting serious about the hysterectomy by the date that I joined this site... two years ago- right after we got married. I think that I accepted the fact that he can't father children and that made it a lot easier for me to accept that I wouldn't have any more.

Then I had to stall the surgery due to work. Always somethin', eh?

I've been told that women also have this sadness when they go through menopause. It makes perfect sense to me.

Hugs,
Lori

I know exactly how you feel... I have never been able to carry a child and I am perfectly happy with the two I have been blessed with and do not want anymore( my kids are through adoption a gestational surrogacy, my ovaries work it's just the uterus thats a dud! ) so I have long dealt with that feeling of loss. However, there is always that underlying " what if " feeling. Hysterectomy takes the "what if" away, permanently. It is perfectly and profoundly normal to feel a tremendous sense of loss. I think we all, each one of us are grieving that loss in one way or another.
It's ok to be weepy ( Just when I think I am cried out, another wave hits, VERY unlike me )
grieve, mourn, feel....it's ok....

I knew you'd understand! It's hard letting go of something that's given me such pleasure. It's knowing (and admitting) and I am getting older and facing the fact that my body is telling me that bearing children is no longer an option. But, it's the finality of it all.

I found out at the end of August this year that I had a large fibroid and basically 2 options to treat - hormones or hysterectomy. I didn't want to do hormonal treatments because of reports of correlation with several types of cancers that are in my family. Didn't want to treat something benign with something that could trigger cancerous genes and then have something much worse to deal with; that left hysterectomy. At 42, I knew, realistically, I wasn't going to have more children; to me, it was the agony of feeling that it wasn't my choice - I was not in control. I didn't just decide to get rid of my uterus. I had a medical condition that almost necessitated the removal and I felt powerless. I also realized that I had always had in the back of my mind that I could change my mind anytime and have another child until I hit menopause, what with healthcare and medical technology being what it is in this day and age. This surgery was taking away that "last resort" option. I was sad and mad. When I had my next period, it reminded me that I don't want to live the way I was living, and the reality is, with a large fibroid, even if I wanted to, I probably would not be able to get pregnant again. I allowed myself to have the feelings that were coming up, and processed them with my friends and family, and by the time surgery rolled around, I was okay with it. Terrified of the surgery itself, but okay with the idea of not having my uterus anymore - no more excruciating pain, 2-wk periods, back pain, trying to plan vacations and annual gyn visits around the monster that was my menstrual cycle. I think grieving is a natural part of the process when faced with hysterectomy. If we're lucky, we get the chance to work through the emotional stuff before having to actually go through the physical stuff.

I'm glad to see this thread too. I don't have any children (nothing would stick, so to speak), and somewhere along the way, I convinced myself I didn't want any. But now that I have made the decision to go ahead with the hysterectomy, I find myself feeling sad too. I guess I always figured I had lots of time (I'm 37) and it just might happen. At least my husband is perfectly content without kids--that helps. I suppose we just have to go through a grieving process and accept the finality of it all.