SOLSC '26 Day Thirty-one: Here's to fourteen years of trying

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Fourteen years!

I had to go to my other blogging platform to double check the date, and there it was, thirty-one posts in March of 2013.  I've let that platform gather dust, but this one...at the very least, it gets shined up each March.

Fourteen years.  It's longer than any job I've performed, or campus where I was located.  It's longer than most habits I've attempted to establish, except for brushing my teeth and making my bed.

I decided to take a peek at my first year of participating.  In 2013 we were challenged to write about life outside of the classroom.  Here are the first ten topics I wrote about:

1)  Shopping for yarn

2)  The school carnival

3)  Morning quiet time

4)  What I live for

5)  Birthday gifts

6)  Technology woes

7)  Wonky week before Spring Break

8)  Saying goodbye before Spring Break

9)  The pride of a military BRAT

10)  My messy, but functional, home

Other than shopping for yarn (I've forced myself to use what I've got these days), I could still write about all of these topics!  In fact, I'm pretty sure I've duplicated several of them over the years.

Back then, I wrote really long posts.  Now, not so much.  Do I have less to say, or am I just getting better at being pithy?  Either way, I'm glad this is one habit that has stuck.  Looking forward to number fifteen in 2027.  And congratulations to all you Slicers who stuck it out with me in 2026!

SOLSC '26 Day Thirty: FOMO and fiesta

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge

My librarian friends are posting pictures from the statewide library conference, and I'm experiencing a bit of FOMO.  Which is weird, because I decided long before I knew I'd be on medical leave that I wasn't going to the conference.  The timing was odd--a Sunday through Tuesday conference--and I really didn't relish the thought of going back to work on a Wednesday after the exhaustion I usually experience from long days of peopling.  It's also my last year in the school library, and I want to leave a decent amount of funds in the activity account for the next librarian.

The pictures are reminding me of all the learning that goes on in this conference:  the introductions to new books and authors, programming ideas, connecting with the vendors we use for furniture, collection development, databases.  Reminders that we librarians are so much more than a friendly face at the circulation desk.  But I won't be a school librarian next year; it's an identity shift that will take awhile to get used to, and not attending the conference is a small nudge to start thinking that way.

So what did I do to lift my spirits a bit?  I started planning my retirement/ 60th birthday party!  I spoke with the event coordinator at my chosen restaurant, and put out a "soft" invitation to friends on Facebook to get a headcount.  The responses I've received have been heartwarming. I've been fortunate to work with so many wonderful people over the last thirty-nine years; I can't wait to celebrate with them.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-nine: What I need to learn

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

My retirement from public education is looming; according to my countdown app, I am staring down the last sixty days of a thirty-three year career.  I am planning on working outside of the school environment, so I've been thinking that I need to learn a few things.  Here's what I've come up with so far:

• How to eat a meal in more than ten or fifteen minutes
• How to sleep past 430a, even if it's just an hour later
• How to only work 40 hours of work a week (or less!)
• How to reserve energy and time for my home and family
• How to take my given days off in a timely manner, and without feeling guilty (and hopefully, without having to spend hours making plans to do so!)
• How not to spend my money (or too much of it) on the job I'm earning the money from

I know we have a few retired educators in this Challenge; do you have anything else to add to the list?

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-eight: It's all about the love

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Disclaimer:  I am, in some ways, a self-help content junkie.  Why this is so is the topic of another Slice, or perhaps better shared with a qualified therapist...

I tuned in yesterday to a webinar for a book launch, The Meaning of Your Life: Finding Purpose in an Age of Emptiness by Arthur C. Brooks.  I had preordered the book, so I was invited to the "VIP Room" of the Zoom meeting with hundreds of others who had done the same.  To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to the details of the event beyond the start time; I assumed it would be about an hour or so.

I assumed wrong.  Brooks invited one guest speaker after another, interspersed with the invitation to join a virtual community to explore the book, related reading, and spread the message (for a fee).  And while I successfully talked myself out of joining, I kept coming back after each break to see who would be up next, and what pearls of wisdom they would drop.  I took copious notes.  Five plus hours later (where did that time go...how did I...?), in the final Q&A session just for the "VIP Room", the webinar ended with this mic drop:

"The meaning of life...is love."

So there you go.  I've saved you five hours.  I'm still going to read the book when it arrives, but I'm pretty sure the compass needle will always point back to that one line.  

You're welcome.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-seven: Globetrotting

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts for the 

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

This post is modeled after Amy's Slice, "Places I've Lived".

I am from

a makeshift bassinet

in a dresser drawer

in the land of Mona Lisa's smile

I am from

gold Buddhist temples, sweet sugar cane

two birthdays celebrated 

with international ex-pats

and a maid we called Mnop

I am from

a cute white house on Hiawatha Street

grandparents opening their door and hearts

when dad had to go to war,

go to work where we couldn't go

my kindergarten class just down the road

I am from

first grade on the east coast,

not far from the base

second-third-fourth grades

that took field trips to castellos and Pompeii

fifth-sixth grades on the west coast

seventh-eighth-ninth

on the west side of the wall,

developing a taste for jaegerschnitzel mit pommes frites

I am from

tumbleweeds and scorpions

the desert of tenth-eleventh-twelfth grades

stark contrast to Bavarian forests

I am from

a small senior class of Matadors

a major university of Longhorns

staying to work,

to marry, become a family

the wandering of my youth

replaced by comfortable consistency.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-six: Pajama Thursday

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I set out an outfit before I went to sleep last night, a long gauze dress that would let me be comfortable yet presentable.  I planned on doing an "everything shower" in the morning before asking for a walk-in pedicure appointment at a nearby nail salon.  The incisions are still healing on my belly, and it's difficult to bend with them to reach my toes.

So what happened today?  I woke up with a goopy eye (it tends to do that), and tired from tossing and turning last night, brain buzzing with a to-do list of adulting tasks needing attention.

Without an ounce of guilt, I had a pajama day at home.  I sent and received a necessary email; talked to the surgeon's nurse about the steri-strips that won't fall off; sorted all of my scented body sprays, lotions, and perfumes by season so I won't smell like a gingerbread cookie for Easter; and finally put away my Christmas-themed Toms shoes.  I had a nice long phone chat with a friend and texted with another.  I read my library book, napped a little, and made a strawberry-orange-banana smoothie, all in the comfort of my pajamas.

The gauze dress is still sitting there...there's always tomorrow.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-five: Baby steps

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

1)  Take a deep breath.

2)  Open up the LinkedIn app on my phone.

3)  Find some colleagues and coworkers I've forgotten to connect with.

4)  Send connect requests.

5)  Navigate to my profile.

6)  Click on the "Open to work" button.  Edit and post the recommended verbiage.

7)  Screen capture the LinkedIn post and send to immediate family for emotional support.  

8)  Edit and refine jobs to any title related to public library services assistant.

9)  Realize it will only allow four titles; edit again.

10)  See the "Request recommendation" button I've never noticed before.

11)  Unabashedly request recommendations from former and current colleagues, coworkers, and directors.

12)  Spend a good portion of the afternoon and evening checking on LinkedIn to see if connection and recommendation requests have been picked up.

13)  Announce my LinkedIn post in a Facebook post, because, why not?  Receive emotional support from FB friends.

14)  Receive first recommendation from an outstanding former colleague that has me over the moon and realize that I just may have left a good impression on folks, after all.

15)  Take another deep breath, release job-hunting anxiety until it pops up again tomorrow, when I tackle my resume...and teacher retirement options...

Proof of LinkedIn post.  Chris Margocs, March 2026

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-four: No, not V.....!!!

 

Thirty-one posts for thirty-one days of the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

It's Tuesday, which means it is "NCIS" night in our household.  I wouldn't say that we are superfans, but there have been very few weeks that the long-running procedural isn't on our TV screen.  

Tonight was a special night--the five hundredth episode of the original series.  I jokingly suggested popcorn and my husband took it literally, handing me my own bowl and paper towel.  We took up our usual stations, me in the armchair, his legs stretched out sideways on the couch.  

The storyline was twisty, as usual.  We chatted a bit during the commercials about the other shows the guest antagonist had been on.  Forty minutes in, I wondered if the case at hand would be wrapped up by hour's end, or if we would be left hanging with a to-be-continued storyline.

Ten minutes later, we gasped simultaneously as the plot took a hard left, one we didn't see coming.  Case closed...and an unexpected, permanent goodbye.

(Character name withheld to avoid spoilers...)

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-three: Spring highs, achoo!

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Ah, spring in Central Texas!  Roses are blooming, trees are adorned with bright green leaves, wildflowers are appearing at roadsides.

Sideways pic of the knockout rose next to my house.

And everything is coated in a fine yellow dust.  Case in point, my car:

Note the dead junebug. Yep, here already, too.

Do other states run allergy counts and forecasts?  One of our more humorous local meteorologists, Avery Tomasco, has a few Facebook posts about the "very high" oak pollen count; here are my faves:

Photo from Avery Tomasco's Facebook page

Photo from Avery Tomasco's Facebook page

This comedian, specializing in Southern idiosyncrasies, pretty much nailed it, too:  https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1FXvjN1fCe/

And we haven't even peaked yet!  I lived all over the world for the first third of my life, and never had allergy issues until moving here.  Not sure there's enough allergy meds in the world to fight the pollen levels we have here; may have to go back to wearing that stash of Covid masks I still have on hand.  

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-two: Windows and sliding glass doors, mirrors too

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Today, online, I read

an article about the removal of 

almost one thousand, five hundred

books

from a school district's libraries,

just down the highway

from where I am sitting

reading a book that I would have placed

in the hands of my own older teenaged children

with some caveats, the overall story--

historical fiction, but well-researched--

a window, a sliding glass door

into the prejudice and maltreatment 

of people with skin darker than ours,

in a time that wasn't much darker than

ours is now.

We would have looked in the mirror, 

together, after sharing the book

and talked about our white privilege

and my own more modern experience

as a military BRAT in the same spaces

as many of the book's settings.

I bet this book would be on that list,

had it been on their shelves 

(it's not--I checked; did you know

that most public school library catalogs

have been available for public viewing

for awhile--the book banners

would have you believe otherwise).

I am glad that I can read this book

from my own public library.

It's not my favorite genre, but I

feel compelled to keep reading,

keep learning,

keep growing in understanding and

compassion.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty-one: Making soup

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts

for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

Definitely not soup weather

but what would I know, staying inside all day,

not wanting to relinquish my pajamas,

just feeling kind of "off".

So I got out the pot and the cookbook, found the recipe

the one with three stars, inked exuberantly

side notes penciled in--one I'll use, 

the other, ignore.

Potatoes

carrots

onions

diced small.

A lot of chopping ensued.

So much so, that I took a break halfway through

My core not quite healed to withstand being upright

for more than thirty minutes at a time.

Returning to the kitchen counter, I realized

I had forgotten the celery--how?

Gathered a few stalks, chopped them, too.

Potatoes boiling in the microwave, butter melting in the pot.

Onions cooked down first, easier on hubby's sensitive stomach.

Carrots and celery added, stirred, softened.

Throw in Bisquick, paprika, pepper--leave out the cayenne.

Stir, stir, stir.

Chicken broth and water next.

More stirring, waiting for boiling bubbles to appear.

Quick break to sit and breathe.

The kitchen smells so good.

Now boiling--take off the heat!

Stir in half-and-half, the potatoes (now cooked), and

two cups of grated cheddar.

Back on the heat; stir, stir, stir.

Tell hubby soup will be ready in five minutes.

Empty the dishwasher, pull out bowls and spoons.

He's not ready, but I am.

I ladle out my portion, and sit to eat.

SOLSC '26 Day Twenty: Silly food rules

 

Thirty-one days, thirty one posts for the 

Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I stood in front of the fridge and pantry for a few minutes apiece.  Nothing seemed appetizing for lunch.

"Peanut butter and jelly it is," I said to no one in particular.

Had to be plain white bread, not the fancy country loaf my husband and I like to eat for other meals.  Smooth peanut butter on one slice, raspberry jelly on the other.  Next, the chips...wait, there weren't any corn or tortilla chips in the pantry, only BBQ with ridges.  Nope, won't do.

I walked to my daughter's old bedroom at the other end of the house.  My husband set up shelves there to store extra stuff during the lockdown, and never really got out of the stockpiling habit.  We call it "H-E-B 2", after our favorite grocery store.

Score!  A bag of tortilla chips.  Lunch saved.

When it comes to chip-sandwich combos, it has to be corn-based chips with my pb&j, and potato chips with mayo- or mustard- based sandwiches.  Sometimes the chips end up on the sandwiches themselves.  Do you have any silly food rules?

SOLSC '26 Day Nineteen: Topsy turvy

Thirty-one days,  thirty-one posts. 

Showered and got dressed at four pm today.  Why?  Maybe because I wanted to wear my pajamas for bed again, and knew they needed to be washed after wearing them for eighteen hours straight.  Maybe because I was tired of my hair looking ratty, and knew the only thing to fix it was a good shampoo, conditioner, and curly hair routine.  Maybe because I knew that for the sake of my mental and physical health, I needed to go outside for at least a few minutes, and only "real" clothes would do.

These days seem topsy-turvy.  I'm not sleeping well, which means I'm tired during the day.  I don't seem to gather steam until almost lunch.  I only manage to accomplish one or two adulting tasks before dinner, the simplest chores taking me twice as long. 

It's occurred to me that having a hysterectomy is not unlike having a baby, having done both.  The body is in healing mode, insides rearranging to inhabit newly available space.  Days and nights are mixed up as meeting the needs of both baby and mother come first, all other tasks made subordinate.

Whatever the similarities, it doesn't change the fact that in two-and-a-half weeks, that four thirty alarm will ring again.  It may be time to start inching back toward that schedule.  

SOLSC '26 Day Eighteen: Stepping up on a soapbox

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I pulled up the lab report again, then pulled out my tape measure.  I'm a visual learner...found fifteen inches, matched it up to the zero at the end to make a circle.

A little more than a grapefruit, little less than a cantaloupe.  Either way, my largest fibroid had been taking up quite a bit of abdominal real estate.

****************

When I first got diagnosed, I went down a rabbit hole of internet research.  Figured out what kinds of fibroids I had, what the different treatments were, what the side effects could be.  I was shocked when I read the statistics:  up to eighty percent of women will experience some kind of fibroids, most during their childbearing years.  Eighty percent.

So then I started wondering--why don't we know more about this, especially with numbers so high? Why aren't we screened for them at every annual exam?  Why aren't we talking more about this?   

The answer, of course, is the lack of research on women's health issues.  The algorithm handed me one way to help with that problem today.  I made a small donation to the Foundation for Women's Health, after spending some time reading up on their mission and medical advisory board.  

I can only hope that progress will be made before my daughter faces a situation similar to mine.  After all, there is an eight in ten chance she will...

SOLSC '26 Day Seventeen: DQ for the win!

 

Thirty-one days, thirty-one posts.

Loafed away the morning.  Did some online banking, watched the live broadcast of the Dublin, Ireland St Patrick's Day parade on PBS, and finally put away most of the the Christmas candles, swapping them out for spring-scented ones.

I could have stayed in my pajamas all day (they were green, no danger of being pinched),  but then I had a hankering for ice cream.  A DQ Blizzard, to be exact.

Nothing like a sweet treat to get me moving!  Found a shamrock-patterned pair of Lularoe leggings--which have become my "pants" of choice recovering from the hysterectomy, the waistband reaching Urkle-levels, floating over incisions--and a baggy green sweatshirt.  A shower and some light makeup, and I was ready for the five minute drive to our local DQ, son in tow. 

It was good to be behind the wheel and out and about for the first time in ten days, even if it was just for a quick drive through the neighborhood.  Bonus that we got there for "Happy Hour", and I scored a one dollar corndog along with my Mocha Brownie Blizzard and a Diet Coke.  

Not the healthiest recovery meal, I admit!  But it sure tasted good, sitting on my front porch, enjoying the weather and my treats.

SOLSC '26 Day Sixteen: Shades of green, signs of spring

Thirty-one posts for the Slice of Life Story Challenge.

I've pretty much given up on the thirty-one walks in thirty-one days as a theme for this year's SOLSC.  Today's excuse for not going outside for a walk was a thirty-degree drop in temps, high winds, and forgoing post-surgical pain meds for a day.  Instead, I stayed in my warm fleece jammies and managed to empty the dishwasher and make a home-cooked dinner for the first time in over a week.  I continued reading Project Hail Mary (yes, the new movie).  I napped.

So here are some pictures of the plants in my yard from my time outside on Saturday.  Inspired by arjeha's post on the surprise appearance of spring, I took note of all the different shades of green (and some red) on display before the skies turned cold again.  I hope that wherever you are, there are some signs of spring, with the vernal equinox just four days away.

(Please excuse the sideways photos...)

Photos by Christine Margocs, March 2026

SOLSC '26 Day Fifteen: What we miss--Stepping outside, part two

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

My husband and I took a right at the end of the driveway.  "Just to the end of the block and back," I said, hands holding my sore belly.  Always the pacesetter when we've walked before, this time he followed my lead.

The skies were blue and the temps were just a smidge on the warm side.  We noticed one of the grand old oaks in a neighbor's yard that had been trimmed to half its height, bare thick trunks forming a natural sculpture of sorts, the cuttings still littering the yard.

"Maybe that's what we should do with our tree in the back."  Our old mother oak is dying of oak wilt; I just hate the thought of the tree completely disappearing.

We reached the corner and turned around.  The second house we came to was being painted by the neighbor from the third house.  My husband knew him and said hello. After I was introduced, my husband asked if he was just doing the couple a favor by painting.

"Oh, the owner passed away in October," he said.  "The wife is going to sell the house and move into assisted living.  My partner and I offered to help get the house ready for the market."

After getting over the shock and discussing the circumstances, we said our goodbyes and headed back home, a bit more somber, the blue skies a bit less bright.  The neighborhood is aging, both trees and people.  The weight of that fact is an inescapable reality, whether we are paying attention or not.

SOLSC '26 Day Fourteen: Stepping outside, part one

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It was getting too warm at night to wear flannel nightshirts.  I was tired of them, anyway, having worn nothing but the recent Lands' End purchases since Monday afternoon.  It was time to put on real clothes.

Thank goodness for my Lularoe-wearing era.  A pair of high-waisted leggings skimmed over the steri-strips on my belly; an oversized sweatshirt completed the outfit.  

I put my freshly washed hair in a ponytail, swiped on some concealer, blush, and mascara to look a little more alive for our monthly SoulCollage session via Zoom.  Not that the group would have cared if I showed up a hot mess; we have a more come-as-you-are kind of vibe.

Several hours later, I had two cards in my hand.  As I pondered their messages for me, one point seemed clear--nature heals.  I needed to get some fresh air and sunshine, pronto.

My husband came home from running errands as I was putting on my shoes.  "You're just in time," I said.  "Do you want to go for a walk with me?".

To be continued...  

SoulCollage Card by Chris Margocs, March 2026

SoulCollage Card by Chris Margocs, March 2026

SOLSC '26 Day Thirteen: Preparation steps

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

The days leading up to my surgery were a whirlwind of preparations:  sub plans, picking up medications, washing clothes and bed linens, shopping for ready-made meals, and buying my husband's birthday cards and gifts.

By the time I got around to the last thing on that list, it was at the end of a twelve-hour workday, my last before medical leave.  My husband is hard to shop for as a rule, and I had little to no brain power left to be creative.   

I drove to my local Hallmark and spent a few minutes choosing a couple of heartfelt cards.  The decision fatigue was closing in fast as I wandered the boutique sections, trying to find something, anything that would keep me from having to go somewhere else.

There--fancy pancake mix and syrup.  Something I could make for him when I felt up to it again.

It wasn't much, but at least there were cards and gifts, waiting for him on his birthday this morning.   

SOLSC '26 Day Twelve: Step by step

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Opened the door today, took a breath of fresh air...and didn't make it much farther.  Another restless night, feeling a little shaky, I just wasn't ready to head outdoors yet.  I also still need to figure out what clothes I own that will accommodate incisions placed a bit higher than I anticipated.

I did take a much needed step elsewhere--into the shower!  I had avoided the hassle of taking one while the pain med pump was still in place; the instructions for that scenario included swathing my midsection in plastic wrap, and, well, it just didn't seem like a pleasant process.  Hubby took care of removing that last night, so I was free to shower as usual.  The added bonus of some fancy soap arriving in the mail today (a gift to myself) was like a self-care sign from above.

Washing my face with actual facial cleanser, then lathering up in perfumed soap reminiscent of a sea cove made me feel one more step closer to normal.   

SOLSC '26 Day Eleven: A little stir crazy

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I was really hoping to make it to the front porch today.  But after a rough night of pain with very little sleep, it was another day of walking around the living room and up and down the short hallway.  

The morning started off as the night had been, gray and rainy, but by afternoon the sun was shining.  Through the kitchen window, I watched a squirrel clamber around our old playscape and people enjoying the weather on the hike-and-bike beyond our yard.  Inside, I was wearing a path between my bed, the living room armchair, and the dining room table.

The pain pump is empty, which means my husband gets to help me remove the catheters.  Despite the instruction sheets saying it should be a fairly painless procedure, I'm still a bit nervous about it.  Once it's done, though, I am cleared for normal showering--and a shower may be just the ticket to feeling one step closer to normal.  

SOLSC '26 Day Ten: Mandatory walking

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Well, I survived the yeeting of my reproductive system, as the kids would say.  

Thank God for anesthesiologists.  When mine came to my pre-op bed to go over the details, I told him what I've told every anesthesiologist that's ever worked on me or my children: "You're the most important person in the operating room.  You're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) don't feel a thing and keep breathing, and you're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) wake up afterwards.  This surgery isn't happening without you."  He appreciated the compliment; maybe that's why I don't remember anything after he said he was starting the IV push.  I woke up in the post-op bay, blissfully unaware of what had transpired the two hours before.

I was home by mid-afternoon, with doctor's orders to rest, hydrate, and walk to prevent clotting.  I changed out of my cute jumpsuit into jammies that better accommodated the ball of local pain meds tethered to my body via catheters in two of my six incisions.  Since I like to name medical apparatuses (our daughter's apnea monitor was Monty), I've named the ball Q-bert.  After I took a much-needed nap--time change plus impending surgery did not allow for a good night's sleep beforehand--it was time for me and Q-bert to take a walk.  Still wobbly, my husband stayed by my side for the first few walks between bed, bathroom, and kitchen.

Today, I've managed the walks pretty much on my own.  I slept so heavily last night that I was up at four a.m., fixing myself some protein toaster waffles and my first cup of coffee in over twenty-four hours.  I still feel a little weak, but the hallway in our little house is just long enough for a couple of laps before I need to rest again.  Carrying Q-bert is a little annoying, but I'm thankful for the pain management and the little strapped bag that makes it easier for it to handle.

Been sitting long enough.  Time for another mandatory walk.  Maybe tomorrow, I'll manage going out to the front porch...

SOLSC '26 Day Nine: A letter to my reproductive system

 

I'm taking a detour from my walking theme with this piece, 

which I'm writing the day before it will be posted. 

The reason will be made clear...

Dear Reproductive System,

     Our time together is coming to a close, but I didn't want you to leave without my gratitude and apologies.  We have had a love-hate relationship over the years, but I really thought we'd signed a truce post-menopause.  I guess it was a false assumption on my part, as has now been proven by multiple ultrasounds, CAT scans, an MRI, and detailed labwork.

     But I'm getting ahead of myself here.  Let's revisit our history together, starting from the beginning, way back when I was thirteen.  You were fairly kind to me then, making your monthly presence known without much fanfare.  After listening to my mother's horror stories of floods and pain, I felt lucky to have skipped a generational curse.  

     Fast forward to our first pregnancy.  You did a great job making it happen...and a lousy job finishing the work.  No one gave you permission to just clock out at twenty-six weeks.  I spent the better part of sixty-five days hating you as our firstborn began her life in a neonatal unit.  She survived though, and thrived, so I finally gave you some credit for what you did get done and moved on.

     Then came the second pregnancy.  You had the decency to send some sort of signal to my brain to let me know not to count on this one at all...so thanks for that early RSVP.  Knowing that sometimes it just happens that way, we were still on good terms. 

     Third pregnancy, and I had high hopes.  Twenty-six weeks went by, twenty-seven...we made it to thirty-seven!  No major glitches either, until we got to the delivery room.  You had to throw HELLP syndrome into the mix, making the hospital staff scramble once again, only this time to keep me alive.  After two traumatic births, I promised the nurses that the next time they saw me, it would be to make sure you didn't get the chance to botch a delivery ever again.  I kept that promise a year later, thanks to day surgery and two little plastic clips.

     We had a few minor hiccups after that, but nothing serious.  You gifted me with a blessedly easy and early menopause, maybe to make up for your previous misbehavior.  I thought we would ride off into the eternal sunset together as a complete package.

     But it wasn't to be.  A simple annual physical exam unearthed what you'd been hiding--a grapefruit sized fibroid I've since named Gertie, since she's got me swollen as a five-month pregnancy.  You gave her a couple of walnut-sized cousins, too.  I can't help thinking this is partially my fault, for not showing you more love and appreciation over the years.  After all, you did give me two wonderful children, for which I will always be grateful.  Maybe it's because I've been stifling my creative pursuits and working under stressful conditions; I know both aren't good for our sacral chakra.

     Whatever the cause, it is time to part ways.  I am a little worried about the space left when you are gone, both physically and emotionally.  There are side-effects that I hope will disappear along with you.  And maybe I will learn my lesson and practice a bit more self-love and self-expression. 

     So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye.  It's been real, reproductive system.  Thanks for the memories--Chris