Discovering my fibroids was one of the most emotional and life-changing journeys I have ever faced. For months, I brushed off the heavy periods, pelvic pain, and the strange fullness in my stomach, convincing myself it was just a normal part of womanhood. I told myself that other women had gone through the same thing, so I just needed to be strong and push through it. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. The pain grew sharper, the bleeding heavier, and the constant discomfort harder to ignore. When I finally went to my doctor and received the diagnosis, I felt an overwhelming mix of emotions—relief that my suffering finally had a name, but fear of what living with fibroids would mean for my body, my health, and even my dreams of motherhood one day. It was the kind of news that made me pause and question everything I thought I knew about myself and my future.

The symptoms took a toll on me in ways that went beyond the physical. There were days when I felt utterly defeated, drained not only by the heavy bleeding and relentless pain but also by the emotional weight that came with it. It often felt like my body was betraying me, trapping me in cycles of exhaustion and frustration. Socially, I pulled back, too tired to explain to others what I was going through, and sometimes too ashamed to admit how much it was affecting me. Each day became a balancing act—trying to show up for work, family, and life, while quietly fighting a battle inside myself. When I finally learned more about fibroids and my treatment options, the decision to undergo a myomectomy was both terrifying and empowering. It meant putting my trust in my medical team, facing the unknown, and accepting that surgery was the only way forward to reclaim my health and my life.

The surgery itself was a defining moment. I’ll never forget what my doctor told my parents afterward—that my uterus, which should have weighed about 40 grams, had been overtaken by a fibroid that pushed it to 173 grams. Hearing those numbers was sobering. It painted a clear picture of just how much this condition had taken over my body, piece by piece, without me even realizing the full extent of it. My fibroid wasn’t just a small growth—it had consumed me, inside and out, dictating my energy, my mood, my confidence, and even my sense of identity. Waking up from surgery, I felt both broken and whole at the same time—broken from the pain and the struggle I had endured, but whole in knowing I had taken a powerful step toward healing.

Recovery was far from easy, but it was also where I found my strength again. There were days when I questioned whether I would ever feel like myself, but with time, patience, and determination, I began to heal. Slowly, I celebrated the small victories—being able to move without wincing, sleeping through the night without waking in pain, and feeling lighter in my body in a way I hadn’t for years. This journey taught me invaluable lessons about listening to my body, speaking up for myself in medical spaces, and allowing others to support me when I needed it most. I found comfort in the stories of other women who had walked the same path, reminding me I wasn’t alone. Above all, I discovered a resilience I didn’t know I had—that even when something threatens to take over your life, you can fight your way back, piece by piece, and rediscover the strength you thought you had lost.