Penny's Story

A cute little drummer living her dream.

What does one do with a potential uterus?

I’ve been keeping myself from thinking all that much about the possibility that I have a uterus. First off, I guess I’m still skeptical that it is, in fact, a uterus. It’s stretches credulity to believe that I would have a uterus and no one would notice that fact until now. And yet, the only CT scan I’ve ever had on my pelvis says that I have a uterus, and the tech may have said that it didn’t look completely like a normal uterus, but they also said it didn’t look like male anatomy.

So, I’ve been purposely keeping myself from dwelling too much on it. I even just mentioned to the Darling Boyfriend that I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to refer to it as “my uterus.” I feel disconnected from my body at the moment in a way that’s unusual for me nowadays. How can I talk about, or even think about “my uterus?” Do I have that right? I don’t know. It’s funny, when people express doubt that I might have a uterus, I get defensive, almost as if they’re trying to take something from me. But when people act like it’s a good thing that I have a uterus, I’m equally ambivalent.

Weird.

And the reason I’m being so ambivalent was articulated by a friend last night. We talked about my test and the results and all that. And she basically said that I should have it hooked up to my vagina and throw an embryo up there and see what happens.

Would that it were so easy.

Of course this is something that I would give my right arm for. But even if I do have a uterus, I can’t see any way in which it would be physically useful to me. This is the tease. This is the thing that I can’t let myself think. I can’t let myself get caught thinking that this potential uterus is a path to pregnancy. That’s what I’ve been afraid to think about. I know me, and I know my potential to get caught up in useless thought-loops. I’m really trying hard to not let that happen with this news.

Who knows? Maybe it is possible. Maybe in a couple years I’ll have a baby in my belly. I’m very skeptical at the potential, and in this moment I think that’s the right attitude to have. What I mean is that anything is possible, and I will ask the question of doctors, but I’m not expecting to be pregnant in six months (or ever, really).

But damn, why couldn’t I have had a test when I was 20 that mentioned a uterus?

So, I think I’m still pretty detached from the news. I don’t want to let myself get caught up in it. Indeed, if my friend hadn’t said what she said last night I probably wouldn’t be writing about it again now.

But she voiced my heart’s most desperate wish, and I guess those deserve to be voiced.

(I just now went and searched for uterus and prostate CT scans on Google images, and they look sorta different – seems like an expert should be able to tell the difference. This was the first time I’ve done this since my doctor appointment last week, which surprises me. I’d have thought it would be the first thing I’d do, but I guess I just couldn’t do it immediately. It was informative, I guess. Maybe now I’ll request a copy of my scan for myself so I can have a peek. Maybe the only way to know for sure is for someone to go cutting around in there, and unless they’re gluing an embryo in there on their way out that ain’t happening.)

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1 Comment»

  Corrvin wrote @

So, maybe you’ve got a uterus. And if you do, this is good! Because you’re a woman and it’s good for a woman to have all her parts and that’s one of the parts.

But if you do, and you’re still infertile, then it’s not that you’re infertile because you’re missing parts because you weren’t born with them; it’s that you’re infertile because your parts don’t work, like a lot of other women. So it’s like the emotional equivalent of standing up at the altar beside the person you love most in the world– as their maid of honor. Bleah.

I think the reason I’ve stayed quiet is because, God knows why, I feel entitled (like everyone else in the known world, right?) to have an opinion on why some of us are strongly cisgendered and some of us aren’t. Maybe this is my cuckoo side, but I don’t think that we’re meant to interpret what we get as any kind of cosmic crib notes on our destinies. It’s not like a big note from God: “Hey, you were right all along, here’s your woman-parts.” You’re a true and honest woman, WHATEVER it turns out that you have down there.


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