"My journey with endometriosis and adenomyosis began when I was about 13 years old. From the moment I got my first period, my menstrual cycle was always uncomfortable and then gradually got worse. On cycle days, it was almost as though I had a standing reservation at the school nurse to lie down until my Tylenol helped.
Fast forward, I was a sophomore and spent most of my time dancing for a private studio and my high school. Practicing nearly 15, sometimes 20 hours a week, I was physically the strongest I’ve probably ever been, but my insides begged to differ. When summer came, I had embarrassingly bled through my costume and tights at a national competition (it just had to be ballet with pink tights, too) despite doing everything I could for period protection.
That fall, one of my periods left me stuck in bed with extremely sharp, knock-me-off-my-feet pain, and my mom took me to the emergency room. An abdominal one revealed a hemorrhagic ovarian cyst could have burst or twisted onto itself—but thankfully didn’t. So, I was put out of dance (which felt like the absolute end of the world) and any other physical activity while we hoped it resolved on its own.
It was the first time endometriosis was mentioned to me, but it was only the beginning of the chokehold the disease would have on my life. It took me eight more years to get a formal diagnosis of stage 4 endometriosis and adenomyosis. And things never really got much better.
Very long story short, 20 years, four full surgeries, four more surgical procedures, nerve damage, hormones, medications, physical therapy, injections, pain management, fertility treatments, a bionic device, lots of heartbreak and tears, therapy, and over a hundred thousand dollars (out of pocket) later—my doctor and I decided to do a hysterectomy.
It took me a long time to make the decision, but once I did, I never looked back. I’m now seven weeks post-op. Here’s what to expect while preparing for, having, and recovering from a hysterectomy.
What is a Hysterectomy?
For those who may not know, a hysterectomy is a surgical procedure to remove the uterus. There are different types, including total (removing the uterus and cervix), partial (removing just the uterus), and radical (removing the uterus, surrounding tissue, and parts of the vagina). Hysterectomies are often performed to address severe cases of fibroids, endometriosis, cancer, or other chronic pelvic pain issues.
After years of pain, multiple surgeries, and countless hormonal treatments, my doctors and I decided that a hysterectomy was the best option to relieve my chronic symptoms. We opted to keep my ovaries in place to avoid early menopause (since I had already been through chemically induced menopause twice) and to get rid of everything else. Like, everything—tubes, cervix, and uterus.
Why I Needed a Hysterectomy
We had gotten to the point in my endometriosis journey where we were just chasing new endo and the scar tissue, which was left behind by each operation. My bladder and bowel were not functioning properly from the trauma of surgery and damage from the adhesions. I had both new endo and old fibrous adhesions that were causing, once again, some key organs to fuse together—my bladder was stuck to my colon, and my ovary was attached to my rectum; there was new endo on my bowels. The pain was impacting every aspect of my life.
A hysterectomy was the biggest step I could take towards feeling better—though, it’s important to state, not a cure. My surgeon was very honest with me that this would help as much as it could help, but endometriosis is systemic, and I had already had nerve damage from previous surgeries. To me, a hysterectomy was still worth it.
Preparing for Surgery and the Hysterectomy Recovery Process
The weeks leading up to my hysterectomy were a little emotional but largely fine. I was torn between feeling hopeful about a life without—or at least with much less—pain and still feeling trapped in a broken body. For the past three years or so, my husband and I knew I had been through too much to even consider attempting another pregnancy. We have spent the last six years treasuring our rainbow girl. He (who might be the most supportive man on earth) and I had many long, raw conversations about our future and what this surgery would mean for us. We were both more than ready.
I spent months researching the procedure, reading other women’s experiences, and mentally preparing myself for the physical and emotional aftermath. I packed my hysterectomy hospital bag with essentials, enlisted the support of my family, and made peace with my decision.
The Day of the Surgery
For the first time ever, my surgery was scheduled later in the day. It’s sick that I’ve developed a “preferred time” for surgery—but first in the morning is always much more my jam. Wake up and go.
Surgery Prep
Nope. I had started bowel prep the day before at 2 p.m., so I was absolutely running on empty by the time I got to the OR. My husband was with me the whole time until they took me back, and then I was on another planet for the remainder of the surgery. It was estimated to take an hour and a half—it took four—but I wasn’t surprised.
After Surgery
I woke up in a lot of pain. It was hard to get under control initially, but then we did. My daughter was hoping to be able to see me before bedtime, and thanks to some really awesome nurses, we were able to sneak her in for some kisses and hugs and for her to see that I was OK. (She’s always been such a trooper with these kinds of things, and I really wanted her to see that I was OK to alleviate her anxieties.)
It took FOREVER for me to get a room, and around 4 a.m. I got a private room on the… wait for it… mother and baby floor. Not the most sensitive placement in the world, but I was surprised at how it didn’t crush me like I thought maybe it would. In fact, it was kind of a full-circle moment. Though it wasn’t the hospital I delivered at, I experienced the best moment of my life on the mother and baby floor. Now the organ that made that possible was gone. It did its job, and now it was gone.
But it really was a trip, waddling around the halls and rolling my IV once I was on my feet, drinking out of the *iconic* huge plastic water container, and hearing newborns crying. It was maybe even a little poetic?
I tried to sleep; it was impossible. I had to do a lot of breathing exercises to prevent blood clots. It took forever for me to be able to pee, but eventually the catheter came out and I could. And I got to go home around dinner time.
My Hysterectomy Recovery Timeline
The hysterectomy recovery process was (and remains) challenging, both physically and emotionally. In the first few days, I relied heavily on pain medications and the support of my family. I spent the night at the hospital and was released early the next evening. I thought the recovery would be similar to my previous pelvic laparoscopies, but it wasn’t at all. Yes, I had a laparoscopic excision of endometriosis. But while in there, I also had a partial colectomy (they removed a part of my colon). And because they took my cervix, the actual hysterectomy part was done vaginally.
In the place of my cervix was now a “cuff”—essentially, the top part of my vagina sewn shut to create a new closure. And it HURT. It still kind of hurts to be honest, and it meant a much longer recovery. A cuff is sensitive and fragile. So I had strict restrictions of pelvic rest for 12 full weeks (and I’m still under those restrictions). This means no lifting over 10 pounds, no intercourse, no vigorous exercise, and no swimming/bathing—though my doctor let me swim a bit earlier than usual.
The First Two Weeks of Hysterectomy Recovery Are Rough
The first two weeks were really hard. But by the end of the second week, I was able to walk my daughter a block and a half to school. By week five, I started physical therapy.
But those early two weeks were a bit of a shock to me. Simple tasks like getting out of bed or walking to the bathroom required immense effort. Gradually, I began to feel the fog lift. And then a morning I’ll always remember came—the morning I felt different. Still healing, still hurting, but that deep, heavy, hot, grinding pain that was my baseline felt so much less. I was finally able to breathe deeply without wincing. Actually, I was finally able to breathe. I felt then this was all worth it.
It Gets Better
I’m seven weeks out now and still have some pain, but it feels different. I’m not bleeding, and I’m not having that contraction-like pain or passing clots. Mostly, I am dealing with nerve pain, muscle tension, and inflammation. I knew these symptoms would be worse post-op and not be completely solved by the hysterectomy. I’m working on this in physical therapy, and it is manageable.
Emotionally, I have to be honest and say there really wasn’t much grieving the loss of my uterus. I kind of hated it at this point. I definitely don’t miss it. My husband and I decided long before the surgery to count our blessings for our daughter, our marriage, and our life. We chose not focus on “what could have been” if things were different. We are happy, and now, I could finally be healthier, too.
Physical Changes After a Hysterectomy
Physically, my body went through a lot of changes after my hysterectomy. Without a uterus, I don’t have a period, which is amazing. I do still ovulate, which is kind of weird but also fine. Keeping my ovaries meant my hormones would get back to being stable once the synthetic hormones left my body. I’m still, seven weeks out, a bit swollen and bloated.
My energy levels have gradually returned, and I’ve started feeling more like myself again. The most significant change was the dulling and inconsistency of pain. Right now I’m still hurting, but it’s not the same. It’s more manageable, less cyclical, and I know it will continue to get better as I heal.
Life Without a Uterus
If we want to be really, really honest, after the results of the 2024 presidential election, I feel relieved that I no longer have a uterus that can be controlled. In 2016, we had a tough miscarriage that required, in technical medical terms, a surgical abortion. I can’t imagine what would have happened if I was not allowed to have it.
Now, even if I’m missing an organ, my body is my own.
Yes, my body still has chronic and incurable disease and scar tissue that sometimes steal the show, but at least no other human can control it. At least I was “allowed” to make this decision for myself, for a better life.
Advice for Others Facing a Hysterectomy
If you’re considering a hysterectomy, my advice is to gather as much information as you can and surround yourself with a supportive team. The decision is deeply personal and can be emotionally taxing, but for me, it was the right choice.
Don’t be afraid to seek second opinions, explore fertility preservation options, and prioritize your mental health during the process. And, if I might be able to help—feel free to reach out. You’re not alone in this process.
Erin Celletti, Contributing Writer
Erin is an NYC-based writer with a BA in Journalism from Quinnipiac University and two master’s degrees in education. She is a proud mama to a little girl and a lifestyle, beauty, wellness, and trends reports writer. Beyond The Everymom, Erin’s editorial work has been featured in publications like Bustle, Allure, Byrdie, The Everygirl, TeenVogue, BRIDES, Sunday Edit, and TODAY.