“I didn’t know what endometriosis was. I just thought periods were something you survived.”

May 18

This is my Endometriosis story. From an emergency surgery at 13 to surgical menopause at 34.

I’ve told parts of this story before. The short version. The “I’m okay now” version. The one that sounds more like a timeline than a life.

But this is the full story. The one that starts with a little girl who thought periods were just supposed to hurt this much, and ends with me at 34, trying to understand how one disease could shape so many parts of my life.

It started younger than I realized

I got my period around 11, and almost immediately, something felt off. The pain was different from what everyone else described. But I kept hearing the same thing: it was “normal.” Just cramps. Something every girl goes through.

I missed a lot of school because of it. And honestly, the worst part wasn’t even the pain, it was the embarrassment. Trying to explain why you can’t come in at that age is humiliating. I remember feeling like I had to push through, even when I physically couldn’t.

I didn’t know what endometriosis was. I just thought periods were something you survived.

The day everything changed

When I was 13, we had just moved to Illinois. New school, new town, everything unfamiliar. I remember sitting alone in the cafeteria, trying to figure out where to bring my tray. When I stood up, or tried to, I couldn’t fully straighten because the pain was so intense.

I had a fever. I ended up in the nurse’s office, then my mom rushed me to the nearest medical building. From there, I was taken by ambulance to a hospital.

I went into an emergency surgery that lasted seven or eight hours. I had a bowel perforation, internal bleeding, and needed a bowel resection. They removed my appendix too.

For years, we were told it was diverticulitis. I believed that into adulthood. But now, knowing what I know about endometriosis, especially how it can affect the bowel, I can’t help but wonder if that was the beginning.

Growing up in pain without answers

Through high school and college, the pain never left. Severe cramps. GI issues. But by then, it had just become my normal. Something I worked around instead of questioned.

Everything changed when I came off birth control to try to have kids. The pain became excruciating. I developed severe urinary symptoms and was constantly running to the bathroom, unable to function normally at work.

I begged for help. I was treated repeatedly for UTIs, even when tests came back negative. I felt like I was explaining the same symptoms over and over, and still not being heard.

Eventually, scans revealed a mass about the size of a large strawberry that had invaded my bladder wall. And the first concern wasn’t endometriosis. It was cancer.

I was in my 20s, sitting in cancer centers, waiting for answers, not knowing what was happening to my body.

Finally hearing the word “endometriosis”

After multiple tests and specialists, I was referred to an endometriosis specialist in New York.

In 2020, I was diagnosed with stage four endometriosis.

The disease had spread everywhere, my bladder, bowel, cervix, ureters, rectum. Everything was essentially stuck together. Hearing that changes you.

I thought surgery would fix it. I didn’t realize how much this disease would continue to shape my life.

The part that is also beautiful

In the middle of all of this, I became a mom.

We got pregnant with our first daughter, and later our second. Those moments were some of the most beautiful parts of this journey. I felt so grateful just to be able to get pregnant at all.

But the disease didn’t disappear. It just paused.

In 2023, during a C-section with my second baby, everything changed again. I started bleeding heavily due to how vascular the endometriosis had become. Doctors had to perform an emergency hysterectomy to save my life.

That moment changed everything.

Learning to Live in a Body That Keeps Changing

After my daughter’s birth and the emergency supra-cervical hysterectomy, I still had pain. I still had symptoms. And emotionally, I had to face that my life didn’t look the way I once imagined.

There were times I didn’t want to talk about endometriosis at all. I didn’t want it to define me. I just wanted to feel normal.

But ignoring it didn’t make it go away. It just made it lonelier.

Enough Was Enough

2025 became harder and harder to get through. Then suddenly, I broke out in full-body hives, swelling in my face, and chest tightness that made it hard to breathe.

When my doctor couldn’t find answers, I was sent from specialist to specialist, searching again for something that made sense.

Life today, at 34

Now, I’m living in surgical menopause.

My life has changed again in ways I’m still processing. This last chapter is one I’m not fully ready to share yet.

Why I’m Finally Telling the Full Story

This is the first time I’ve shared everything from beginning to end.

Not just the surgeries or diagnoses, but the emotional side, the embarrassment, the confusion, the loneliness, and the gratitude I feel just for being here.

I’m sharing this because I know someone out there is where I once was, sitting in pain, being told it’s normal, wondering why their body feels so different.

If this helps even one person feel less alone, it’s worth it.

If any part of this feels familiar, I want you to know you’re not alone. I know what it feels like to be dismissed. I know what it feels like to question your own pain. And I also know how powerful it is when someone finally says, “I understand.”

Because I do.

Thank you for being here.

Keep creating, keep healing 💛