The Day Everything Changed
On a cold March morning, I walked into the hospital with my overnight bag, a playlist of calming music, and more questions than answers. My body had been through battles before, but this was different. A hysterectomy is final — it’s not something you bounce back from in a week.
What I didn’t know then was that my surgery would last 11 hours. My organs had fused together — and in some places, to my bones. Before my surgeon could remove my uterus, they had to carefully sever and separate each organ. It was a delicate, high-risk procedure. By the time I woke up, my life — and my relationship with my body — had been permanently changed.
Week 1: The Shock of Stillness
The first week felt like someone had pressed pause on my life. My body demanded stillness, a challenge for someone used to constant motion. I couldn’t lift more than a gallon of milk, couldn’t drive, and couldn’t even roll out of bed without pain reminding me exactly what I’d been through.
The biggest shock? How deeply exhausted I was. Recovery wasn’t just physical — it was emotional.
Tip: Rest isn’t lazy. Rest is the work.
Weeks 2–4: Negotiating with My Body
By week two, I thought I could speed things up. I was wrong. Every attempt to do more than my body was ready for led to pain and swelling. The truth about post-hysterectomy recovery is this: it’s not a straight line.
Some days I felt unstoppable. Others, I was right back at square one. Accepting that fluctuation was harder than any lifting restriction.
Tip: Listen to your body like it’s your boss — it sets the timeline.
The Emotional Recovery No One Talks About
People talk about pain management and lifting limits, but few mention the grief. I gained freedom from years of pain, but I also had to face a sense of loss — physically and emotionally.
There’s a quiet mourning that comes with a hysterectomy. For me, it arrived in waves, and I learned to let myself feel it rather than push it away.
What Helped Me Heal
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Support System: Friends who checked in, brought meals, or just listened.
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Small Wins: Celebrating milestones like walking around the block.
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Mindful Movement: Gentle stretching and breathing when cleared by my doctor.
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Patience: Giving myself the same kindness I’d offer someone I love.
Where I Am Now — August
It’s now August, and while I’m much stronger, I still have to be gentle with myself. That 11-hour hysterectomy didn’t just repair my body — it taught me to honor it. My organs may no longer be fused, but my mind and body are more connected than ever.
If you’re facing a hysterectomy, remember: your healing is unique. Take the time you need, and know that moving forward doesn’t have to mean moving fast.
Ink and Echo is a raw, unflinching poetry collection that moves like a sermon, sings like the blues, and stings like truth.
Blending spoken word fire with intimate confessionals, this collection explores the tension between love and lust, faith and fury, community and chaos. Through poems like Redemption, a battle cry for cultural accountability, and The Rhythm, a sensual unraveling of desire and regret, the poet bears witness to what it means to be a Black woman in a world that demands resilience but rarely offers rest.
Each page pulses with the rhythm of protest, prayer, pleasure, and pain. These verses don’t just speak; they echo. They echo the sermons we heard growing up, the secrets we never said aloud, the heartbreaks we carried in silence.
Ink and Echo is for anyone who’s ever wrestled with their reflection, questioned their worth, or wanted to burn the world down just to rebuild it softer.
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