June 2015
Who am I? She asked. I answered my name was Hannah.
Part One of My Myomectomy Journey
I looked gingerly down at my cell phone at a text from my husband; he was informing me of the status of his arrival. “I am downstairs,” he said. I replied, letting him know I was on my way. Ms. Dot and I took one more pass around the room to ensure nothing was left behind.
“Do you have your phone charger?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.
The room, with its tiled floors and contemporary furnishings, was reminiscent of a hotel suite—outside of the big white elephant in the middle of the room: a hospital bed.
My phone vibrated again, informing me I had another message. This time, it was from my sister, my best friend.
“What are you doing? Have you been discharged yet?” she asked in the series of short lines quickly coming across the screen.
“Yes, Oji is downstairs in the car. They are rolling me out now,” I texted her back as Ms. Dot wheeled me down the corridor.
With my free hand, I aimlessly waved to the nursing staff as they said their final goodbyes. I was walking fine—just not on my own—but it is hospital policy: no discharged patient leaves without the assistance of a wheelchair.
On the ward, I could hear the cries of newborns as I recovered and the frustrated urges of new mothers attempting to calm their babies to sleep.
Then there was me. No baby’s crib was posted in my room near my bed. The foot-long incision on my abdomen was my merit badge, a sign I belonged among this odd grouping of ladies.
“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.” – Psalm 147:3 (NLT)
➡️ God was there, even when the room echoed with the lullabies I had yet to sing.
Stapled closed, I did not go into the hospital to have a baby, but my stay and surgery were similar to that of a pregnant mother scheduled for a C-section. For two years, I delayed the inevitable—going under the knife to correct a problem that was threatening my ability to carry children.
My doctors told me that my womb, though filled with life, was not the kind that could one day bring me more joy than the pain it caused each month during my period. I was diagnosed with uterine fibroids. They found several large ones during a sonogram, and their presence extended my abdomen to that of a woman pregnant for at least five months. To have them removed, I would need surgery—a myomectomy.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11 (NLT)
➡️ Even when the diagnosis felt like a death sentence to my dreams, God’s plan was still life-giving.
However, the original plan of action laid out to me almost two years ago fed my fears more than my faith. Though she was charming and sweet, my gynecologist at the time directed me to a gynecological oncologist.
My mother experienced eight pregnancies. She had six live births, a stillborn, and a miscarriage. Mama had her first baby while still in her teens and ended up giving birth to me in her early forties.
I thought I had time.
I never thought my body would be my greatest adversary when it came to becoming a mother. It hurt me to the core when I was first diagnosed. It hurt me even more profoundly when I learned that after almost six hours of surgery—with the removal of nine to ten noncancerous masses and four pints of blood—it was advised that I not even attempt to get pregnant. Like really?
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.” – Isaiah 41:10 (NLT)
➡️ Fear met me in the doctor’s office. But so did God.
I don’t have all the answers. But I do have my voice. And now, I share it for the women who have ever sat in a hospital bed, womb aching, and wondered what comes next.
“Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later.” – Romans 8:18 (NLT)
➡️ This is only the beginning. The pain, the healing, and the purpose are all part of the glory unfolding.
To be continued in Part Two
Works Cited
Myomectomy – Better Health
http://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/bhcv2/bhcarticles.nsf/pages/Myomectomy
© 2023 – 2025, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
